The real estate agent rubbed his hands together as if he were about to dive into a pool of ice-cold water.

‘That’s why I’m here,’ he said. ‘I’m only thinking of your benefit.’

He shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

‘The young couple can’t afford any more than that.’

‘Right, I see,’ she said softly. ‘Then I guess I’ll have to go along with it.’

The agent took the cigar from his mouth and suddenly became lively and efficient. He asked everyone to sit around the table in the middle of the room, and he pulled papers out of his folder.

‘You sign here.’

He gave the young man a fountain pen, and they spoke in a businesslike manner, almost with elation. Words like priority, appraised value, and mortgage floated in the air around the two silent women who each sat lost in her own thoughts.

When everything was in order, the real estate agent regarded the nice young couple with a satisfied expression. Happy people, he thought, with a pleasant, albeit vague sensation of having played the role of their benefactor. The husband got up quickly. He thought the air was bad. Grete looked pale.

‘Goodbye. Nice doing business with you,’ he said rather formally, shaking the owner’s hand. ‘I will send you the check tomorrow.’

Grete tried to say goodbye to the little girl sitting on the floor in front of her play kitchen, but she glared up at her crossly and put both her hands behind her back.

Grete turned around self-consciously. She would have liked to see what the upstairs was like, but the men seemed to be in a hurry to leave.

Out in the yard they stopped and looked at the house again.

He put his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

‘Well,’ he said gently, ‘Are you happy? That was a good deal, you can trust me on that.’

She looked down and scraped the ground with the tip of her shoe.

‘Why didn’t you give her what she was asking?’ she asked. ‘We have the money.’

Both men laughed heartily.

‘Women,’ said the real estate agent condescendingly.

The sun was going down. Shadows fell across the brick wall. A sudden nausea rose inside her. She leaned against her husband.

‘It’s a good thing you can think for both of us,’ she said.

‘For all three of us,’ he smiled, correcting her.

The real estate agent tilted his head like an affectionate bird.

‘Young people,’ he said, feeling moved.

Then he laughed his peculiar, gratuitous laughter, which rolled down the front walk like a partly deflated ball.

The three of them walked to the car.

From behind the curtain, the mother stood watching them leave.

The Bird