Oh dearie me she said. Dearie me this looks something else the way you’ve done it up.

I went back outside to drive the car into the garage. Now that the snow had stopped falling the cold was setting in. The air was chilly and clear. Northern lights played across the sky. The stars were not out yet.

Angelika had helped mother take off her coat and hat. She was halfsitting halflying on the velvet sofa with a cushion under the small of her back watching as angelika and bror got the diningtable extensions into place. The chandelier was already lit.

Don’t forget the undercloth she said. And use granny’s linen tablecloth on top. It’s christmas after all.

Granny’s white tablecloth still had palepink stains of spilled wine. Mother’s voice was unmistakably issuing orders. Now and then bror’s and my eyes met. Had I brought home the wrong oldie.

We went to the kitchen. Angelchimes were chiming powered by slender candles. Angelika was choosing music. Peterjöback bror said. Say what you like that lad can sing.

I’ll come home for christmas. I share my feelings with you.

At least it wasn’t jameslast. 316

There was a knock on the door. Almost a thump. Frozen people could be heard shuffling and snorting in the hall. Lukas was barking.

Göranbäckström and sonja put their boots in the coldlobby and called out merrychristmas.

I invited some old friends bror said. Thought we’d need it.

Soon afterwards there was more knocking. And again and again. The hunting crew.

Stefanhansson and his johan. Petra. Noragran and her gunnar. Märitljungqvist and nordin the corpseshifter. Several people from my job and other people as well whom I barely knew but who had decided that kippofarm was the place to celebrate christmas.

In a chink between the calls of merrychristmas and merry-christmas I slipped away and went up to the attic taking a long stride to miss out the eighth step.

I locked myself into my girl’s room. The swedish nineteenhundredandseventyfour national team watched me with serious eyes. But I wasn’t trying to hide. I just needed a moment by myself.

I burrowed into my wardrobe to find a dress. Sniffed the material in the armpits. It would do and I pulled it over my head. I couldn’t remember when I wore it last. At my confirmation. Or never.

It fitted me. It was unfashionable. It had to do.

Music and voices filtered through the wooden floor. We used to lie in bed listening trying to gauge the shifts in tone. Music at a higher volume than before. Raised voices. Footsteps on the stairs.