Henrik was now wearing an apron. He stared at the waiting customers, then moved closer to the counter, listening as Ingemar ordered.
Nora looked inquiringly at Ted. “Do I just carry on as normal?”
“Absolutely. In a few minutes we’ll do some filming here in the café, then we’ll do the tour of the whole place with you and Henrik.”
Nora went and stood next to Hassan.
“My usual, please,” Ingemar said. “A cheese roll and a coffee.”
“That will be twenty-five kronor,” Hassan replied, sliding a roll onto a plate.
“Sorry, what did you say?” Henrik was frowning at Hassan.
“I ... er ...” Hassan glanced uncertainly at Nora. “Twenty-five kronor.”
“I see. Twenty-five kronor. Right.” Henrik folded his arms.
Nora rolled her eyes and turned to Maggan, who ordered a prawn sandwich and a coffee.
Ingemar dug into his pockets. Eventually he produced a wallet, then put it away. “The thing is, I have a tab here ...” He looked at Nora. “Nora writes down what I owe, then I pay when I can afford it.”
“It’s okay, this is on me,” Maggan said, and Nora let out a long breath. No doubt Henrik would have some snide response.
“Wait,” Henrik said. “Can you do that again?” He waved to Elnaz. “We ought to film this.”
Elnaz nodded to the camera operator, who pointed one of the static cameras straight at the till. Elnaz clapped her hands to indicate that they were rolling.
Henrik smiled at Ingemar. “Did you say you have a tab here at Nymans?”
Nora put Maggan’s sandwich on a plate, then turned her attention to Ingemar. “Are you really okay with them filming this, Ingemar?”
“We have permission from all the customers,” Ted said quickly. “There’s a guy outside sorting it out before they come in.”
“I’ve got nothing against being on TV.” Ingemar’s eyes were sparkling.
“There you go,” Henrik said with a triumphant look at Nora. “Don’t worry, this is a good thing—it builds character.”
“Excellent, let’s go again,” Ted said.
Ingemar smiled at Henrik. “Yes, I have a tab here at Nymans. Sometimes I’m a bit short on money, you know how it is, and thenNora lets me have credit. She’s great. She understands people in this town.”
The camera was pointed at Nora. The merciless glare of the spotlights was shining straight in her face, and she realized why Elnaz had looked so horrified earlier. There was no hiding anything in that light.
8
1945
Tuula had made it to the weekend, but she wasn’t looking forward to it. She loved going to work, and although she looked forward to spending time with the children, her first free day brought a sense of emptiness. There had been something invigorating about going back to work. Back home in Rovaniemi she had worked hard in a small hotel before the children came along: serving meals, cleaning the rooms, and sometimes baking. She had loved baking the most of all—kneading dough and spending time alone in the peaceful kitchen, with the warm oven and the smell of the bread. Working hadn’t just been about earning a living, it had given her a sense of community, of belonging, of normality. And now she had a job in a bakery! She could hardly believe her good fortune. It didn’t even matter that she wasn’t baking herself; it was simply a lovely place to spend her days. There was the almost mushroomy smell of the yeast and the flour when the bakers opened a new sack and tipped it out onto the benches. And finally the aroma of freshly baked bread. There was nothing better.
After breakfast, she and the children strolled along the river before going to the café. Would Nils be there? She knew that he spent a lot of time there, pitching in and checking on things. He seemed to love his work. When he wasn’t busy in his office, he came out and helped the bakers. She liked seeing him knead the dough, and sometimes allowedherself to watch him for a moment when she went into the bakery to collect the loaves for packing.
She hadn’t felt attracted to any man since Juhani, but she wasn’t the only one sighing over Nils. According to Aino he was seen as a real catch. Her little crush felt perfectly innocent; Nils Eklund, the golden boy of the village, would never notice a war widow with two children. Especially not a Finn. She knew what some people around her said about the Finns, the same thing she had heard ever since she arrived in Sweden. There were nice people, too, of course, in fact most of those she had met were friendly and helpful. But prejudice existed—the assertion that the Finns did nothing but drink and fight, that they were different, not like the Swedes, even though the two countries lay side by side and couldn’t have been more alike. However, some Swedes seemed to regard the Finns as a completely different race. She’d heard rumors that some men had visited the camp she was in, measured skulls and noses and closely examined bodies.
The idea that Nils Eklund would want anything to do with her was ridiculous, so she didn’t think it mattered if she let herself swoon a bit over his chocolate-brown eyes, his broad shoulders, his olive-colored skin, and the dark hair curling at the nape of his neck.
The mild March weather that had met them on their arrival at the railroad station had lasted. Spring was in the air as they walked through the village down to the river. She gazed at the large, colorfully painted houses. Tuula had left behind a decent house that she loved, but it hadn’t been as beautiful as these, with their decorative carving. At home her life had focused on the practical. Neither she nor Juhani came from an affluent background, but they had managed fine on Juhani’s salary as a farm foreman. They had never been able to afford anything luxurious or frivolous, though—no gold-rimmed china for them.
The rich, round aroma of coffee reached her nostrils from some distance away, along with the smell of bread. Sweetened bread. Something she hadn’t experienced much in the past few years.
