Читать книгу Shadows of Sören - Nicola Stöhr - Страница 20

After dinner she had still not come home. He should ring the university. What faculty dealt with theoretical physics? What if she wasn´t there? Oh hell, this was ridiculous; he was a grown man, a successful man. And he was pacing around his own house, looking out of the window every few minutes, waiting for her to appear, like a love-sick teenager, or a jealous psychopath. Was she with a man? Did she have a boyfriend?

Someone from the university maybe?

Okay, he had to stop this right now or he really would turn into one of those creeps who hijacked young women and kept them prisoner in their basement for endless periods of time.

If she didn´t come back, she didn´t come back. He would survive; he had a life to live. He had lived without her before, hadn´t he? And he hadn´t been unhappy, so what had changed?

Everything, he knew that now.

There - he heard a car.

He looked outside. Yes it was her.

He felt immensely relieved. He would go over there right now and ask her what the hell she thought she was doing coming home at this late hour.

He walked over and knocked on her door. She had only just come in herself, so she opened at once.

“Hi”, she said.

“Where have you been?” Sören demanded to know.

“Excuse me?”

“Where have you been, why did you come home so late. I didn´t know where you were, you could have called, you know.”

Clarice was nonplussed. Was this really normal behavior for a landlord? She looked behind her, just to make sure that Sören was really talking to her and not some other person standing behind her. But of course there was no one there.

“Er, I wasn´t aware that I needed to justify my whereabouts to you or keep you informed about my timetable,” she said snootily.

Sören bristled at that, “Oh to hell with that. And don´t use that snooty tone of voice on me, it doesn´t suit you. You never go anywhere, you never have anyone here, you always come home the same time every day and then all of sudden you come home late, so where were you?”

“You know Sören, there was always something I wanted to ask you.”

“What?”

“Are you nuts?”

Now he was really annoyed.

“You think I´m nuts because I worry about you? Why did you come home so late? Were you with a man, is that it? You can tell me you know and then...well then I´ll know.”

Clarice was starting to feel a little more than irritated herself now, “Well, call me King sensitive of the year, but you didn´t seem that worried about me this morning did you? After you spent the night with Stick Insect. You told me in not so many words to stay away from the house and from you.”

“I never said that.”

“Well, I must have misinterpreted your words then. So when you said “don´t walk around here like you’re the lady of the manor and don´t talk to me anymore”, you really meant “I care and worry about you?” That´s quite a complex code you´ve got going there, Sören, do you always say exactly the opposite of what you feel?”

“I was angry with you, I admit that. But I never told you not to talk to me anymore and why am I standing here defending myself? You were out of order then, I know it and you know it and now I want to know where you have been tonight.”

“None of your business,” Clarice answered curtly.

He was stunned, “Excuse me? What? None of my business? You have been sticking your nose into my business all the time ever since you moved in. You walk in and out of my house at your pleasure and you know, that´s fine, I actually like that, because I like you. You have gotten heaps of information out of me about my life, my interests, my past relationships, and my business. Anything you wanted to know I have told you and what have I gotten from you? Nothing, zero, zilch. And I haven´t been intrusive. I accepted that there is something, some unprocessed trauma in your past that makes it impossible for you to share personal details with anyone and you will run away from anyone or anything that forces you into confronting that trauma. But there is a limit to my patience and now I want to know where you have been and I am not leaving before you tell me.”

Clarice was speechless. Speechless because everything he had said was true. He understood her a lot better than she thought he did.

The door of Tilda´s house opened.

“Um, I´m sorry to interrupt, but Oscar just woke up. You´ve been kind of loud, you know shouting at each other and everything. Could you turn it down a bit, maybe?”

They both turned to stare at her. Neither had been aware of shouting.

Tilda bit her lip and said “Um, okay then, goodnight.” She went back inside.

There was a brief silence, and then Clarice said very quietly, “I was at the university.”

“In the evening?”

“I had a meeting. A very long meeting. I have to attend meetings now and again, you know. I am part of the faculty. And you Swedish people like long, boring, democratic discussions.”

“Yes, I know. Alright, that´s alright then. I just wanted to know. I really was worried, you know and I do care about you a lot. I think you should know that. Please don´t pack your bags and run away, I want you to stay. You will stay, won´t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good, that´s good.”

“Good night Sören.”

“Good night.”

He turned to leave, but then changed his mind, bent down and gave her a gentle, lingering kiss on the cheek.

Clarice felt a shiver run down her back.

“See you tomorrow then.”

He left; she closed the door and leaned against it. Yikes, this was getting too close for comfort. Why couldn´t he be an old, fat, ugly lord of the manor? Why did he have to be so understanding and insightful and so good looking?

“What to do, what to do?”

Nothing, that was the answer, she would do nothing and just let things take its stride.

Like Oscar.