Stella Descending Read Online Free PDF Page B

tight-lipped.

Axel
    It is an annoying fact of life that Money Sørensen always lets herself into my apartment at the most inconvenient time. It’s true that we agreed on every Thursday at ten, and it’s true that she turns up every Thursday at ten, but
for me
Thursday at ten is and always will be an inconvenient time! Exactly thirty years ago, when we came to the arrangement whereby she would come here on that day at that time to clean and tidy this place, I felt as if I were committing myself under duress. It would have suited me better if we had agreed, for example, on every Friday at one o’clock, at which time I am always out for a stroll. Every Monday at twelve would also have been quite suitable, since I usually spend a few hours downtown at Deichmann’s library around that time. Even Wednesdays after eleven would have been fine, Wednesday being my day for errands in town: shopping for food, going to the bank, that sort of thing. But Thursday at ten is, and always will be, the most unsuitable time imaginable. Unforeseen things are always happening on Thursdays. Today, for example—today I have a funeral to attend, so I have to take a bath and get changed. Isak Skald was also buried on a Thursday. But I’m not just talking about funerals. Young Amanda often looks in on a Thursday—she finishes school early that day—and the last thing I want when Amanda pays me a visit is to have that old hag moping around here, putting both the girl and me in a bad mood. I talked to Stella about this on one occasion, and naturally Stella asked me why I hadn’t discussed it with the old hag herself.
    “Why haven’t you tried getting her to come at some other time?” she asked, laughing.
    I told her it was easier said than done. Money and I had had this arrangement for thirty years: She would come here to clean and tidy the place every Thursday at ten. That I had felt pressured into it in the first place is another matter. I distinctly remember saying to the old hag, “Miss Sørensen, it would suit me better if you were to come on Fridays at two o’clock. Thursdays are no good for me.”
    And I distinctly recall her replying that she could not come on any day but Thursday. If that did not suit, she was sorry but she could not help me.
    The fact that she was a friend of Gerd’s sister made it only harder for me to maneuver. She knew I had to treat her civilly, if only to disprove what Gerd’s sister, my daughter Alice, and all Gerd’s other relatives were starting to say: namely, that I was a “brute.” She also knew I would need someone to “do” for me in the new apartment, since neither Alice nor Gerd’s sister were prepared to help me any longer. I was completely on my own.
    In other words, there is no way, I told Stella. No way any of this can be altered. If I were to strike up a conversation with the old hag for the purpose of changing the time appointed for her regular appearances, she would (1) be mortified and (2) turn nasty and spiteful. It would be something along the lines of:
How
do you like that? Grutt wants to change an arrangement that has
worked perfectly well for thirty years
.
    Here, having been given my chance, I might attempt to plead my case. But, my dear Miss Sørensen, it has not always worked
perfectly well for me. You may recall the conversation we had when you
started cleaning for me, in which I pointed out that Thursday was not
the most convenient day?
But then she would, of course, sniff and, claiming to remember no such thing, assure me that if I was dissatisfied with her work, she could easily find more enjoyable things to do of a Thursday. No point staying on where she wasn’t wanted. Whereupon I, having shrunk to a nothing before her eyes, would have no course but to retreat: that was not what I had meant at all, it was only a suggestion. And then, with a (clenching) cheeriness, I would be obliged to add,
I only thought a
little change in our routine might perhaps perk us up a little,