those who have come to meet them.
âSo this is good, you say?â the brother asked when he had put the cognac back and picked up the liter of malt whisky instead. He glanced nervously over his shoulder. As I nodded, I pulled my bottom lip over my top one and tried to give him the impression that he was being given advice by a specialist. I quite expected him to ask for more advice, perhaps chat a little now that his wife had gone off, but he was satisfied with what I had already told him, placed the bottle carefully in his basket, and added another liter of malt whisky. Then he thanked me again and went off, clearly pleased with his purchases.
I hadnât intended to buy whisky but while I imagined Eyvi and his brother in the living room with both bottles on the tableâit wasnât easy to guess whose bottle had been openedâI put one in my basket. Then I chose a good cognac and some Belgian chocolates for Vigdis. I added a liter of dry martini and two cartons of Camel filters, as well as cigars that looked as though they were one hundred percent tobacco, though it wasnât stated on the box. Before placing everything on the counter, I grabbed six cans of beer too. I expected to be told that I had exceeded the allowance, but I wasnât stopped at the counter or at the customs gate.
I still hadnât seen the fair-haired woman, but I had spotted Armann again and it was obvious that he was having some trouble. I decided not to bother about him. Instead, now that I had gotten through customs, I cheered myself up with the thought that I was a free man and after four hours of going without could even enjoy a cigarette. I welcomed myself and pulled my overcoat out of my suitcase. It was cold in the entrance but I enjoyed the fresh air and looked forward to settling down on the bus.
First of all I had to have a smoke. While I was unwrapping the pack of Hamlets that I had bought at Heathrow, I looked across the hallway and amused myself by wondering if Eyvi had arrived to pick up the couple from the duty-free store. I was keeping an eye out for the blonde woman at the same time. I saw two men who could have been Eyvi. One of them was half bald and wore a dark blue fleece jumper and grey Terylene pants and the other, whom I recognized from somewhere downtownâeither he worked in a shop or at the Post Officeâwas quite like the brother, with thinning fair hair, running shoes, and some kind of tracksuit under his anorak. He was holding a set of car keys that he rattled to announce his arrival.
When I walked outside, I saw the couple in front of me looking in the direction of the car park. The Fly Bus had arrived and the driver had started to load suitcases into the luggage compartment. The couple stood surrounded by their suitcases and duty-free bags and were looking rather miserable, not exactly dressed for Februaryâs frost. I lit a cigar and took a sip from the Cointreau bottle from the plane. When I looked at them again, the woman seemed to be quietly scolding the manâI imagined it was because of the whisky he had boughtâand I didnât think she did much to warm him with her hard, fierce expression. I strained my ears to catch what she was saying and seemed to hear her mention the bus. A few minutes later the man walked slowly back towards the entrance of the airport building. He stopped close to me, turned around, and looked at his wife, as if he was tired rather than annoyed. Then he carried on and went inside.
The frost was beginning to sting my cheeks. I put out the half-smoked cigar and was about to get into the bus, but when I swung my bag up on to my shoulder I noticed the blonde woman standing outside the door with her luggage. She was lighting a cigarette. I had another drink from the miniature bottle and got out a pack of cigarettes from my coat pocket as I walked over to her.
âI have to ask you for a light,â I said.
âItâs alright to do
âSo this is good, you say?â the brother asked when he had put the cognac back and picked up the liter of malt whisky instead. He glanced nervously over his shoulder. As I nodded, I pulled my bottom lip over my top one and tried to give him the impression that he was being given advice by a specialist. I quite expected him to ask for more advice, perhaps chat a little now that his wife had gone off, but he was satisfied with what I had already told him, placed the bottle carefully in his basket, and added another liter of malt whisky. Then he thanked me again and went off, clearly pleased with his purchases.
I hadnât intended to buy whisky but while I imagined Eyvi and his brother in the living room with both bottles on the tableâit wasnât easy to guess whose bottle had been openedâI put one in my basket. Then I chose a good cognac and some Belgian chocolates for Vigdis. I added a liter of dry martini and two cartons of Camel filters, as well as cigars that looked as though they were one hundred percent tobacco, though it wasnât stated on the box. Before placing everything on the counter, I grabbed six cans of beer too. I expected to be told that I had exceeded the allowance, but I wasnât stopped at the counter or at the customs gate.
I still hadnât seen the fair-haired woman, but I had spotted Armann again and it was obvious that he was having some trouble. I decided not to bother about him. Instead, now that I had gotten through customs, I cheered myself up with the thought that I was a free man and after four hours of going without could even enjoy a cigarette. I welcomed myself and pulled my overcoat out of my suitcase. It was cold in the entrance but I enjoyed the fresh air and looked forward to settling down on the bus.
First of all I had to have a smoke. While I was unwrapping the pack of Hamlets that I had bought at Heathrow, I looked across the hallway and amused myself by wondering if Eyvi had arrived to pick up the couple from the duty-free store. I was keeping an eye out for the blonde woman at the same time. I saw two men who could have been Eyvi. One of them was half bald and wore a dark blue fleece jumper and grey Terylene pants and the other, whom I recognized from somewhere downtownâeither he worked in a shop or at the Post Officeâwas quite like the brother, with thinning fair hair, running shoes, and some kind of tracksuit under his anorak. He was holding a set of car keys that he rattled to announce his arrival.
When I walked outside, I saw the couple in front of me looking in the direction of the car park. The Fly Bus had arrived and the driver had started to load suitcases into the luggage compartment. The couple stood surrounded by their suitcases and duty-free bags and were looking rather miserable, not exactly dressed for Februaryâs frost. I lit a cigar and took a sip from the Cointreau bottle from the plane. When I looked at them again, the woman seemed to be quietly scolding the manâI imagined it was because of the whisky he had boughtâand I didnât think she did much to warm him with her hard, fierce expression. I strained my ears to catch what she was saying and seemed to hear her mention the bus. A few minutes later the man walked slowly back towards the entrance of the airport building. He stopped close to me, turned around, and looked at his wife, as if he was tired rather than annoyed. Then he carried on and went inside.
The frost was beginning to sting my cheeks. I put out the half-smoked cigar and was about to get into the bus, but when I swung my bag up on to my shoulder I noticed the blonde woman standing outside the door with her luggage. She was lighting a cigarette. I had another drink from the miniature bottle and got out a pack of cigarettes from my coat pocket as I walked over to her.
âI have to ask you for a light,â I said.
âItâs alright to do
Similar Books
