Søren plodded obediently after Mrs. Snedker. She handed him a torch and a yellowing booklet. The VCR was from 1981. Søren went down on all fours and started pressing various buttons until the clock was correct.
As he got up, Mrs. Snedker said, “How funny, my memory seems to have returned. I remember it vividly. The first time the man waited was Monday afternoon and the second time was Wednesday evening.” She beamed.
“Last night?”
“No, May, ten years ago,” she teased him. “Of course it was last night! Yesterday, tenth of October.”
“Where was Anna, since he had to wait?”
“How would I know? Up to no good, I expect.”
“And Anna has no idea who he might have been?”
“No, she was convinced it was Johannes, a fellow she shares an office with at the university. Mainly because of his hair color. The man was wearing a hat, but I think some auburn hair stuck out from under it, and I told Anna that, which made her think it was Johannes. But I’m not so sure. I was busy closing my door. It could have been him, but how would I know?” Mrs. Snedker suddenly sounded hurt. “I’m not hired help here, am I?”
“What’s keeping them?” Søren said, suddenly impatient. Even with a toddler in tow they should have been home by now.
“Perhaps it wasn’t them after all?” Mrs. Snedker shrugged.
Søren gave her weary look. “Of course it was,” he said. “They must have gone somewhere else.”
“The supermarket in Falkoner Allé is probably your best bet. Another glass while you wait?”
Søren declined.
“I’ll come back and talk to you later,” he said.
Mrs. Snedker pretended to be terribly flattered. “Perhaps you would be kind enough to buy me a small white loaf?” she called out after him.
Søren spotted Anna and her daughter almost immediately. They were plodding along very slowly and had only just passed the spot where Søren had parked his car. He followed them at a distance and when they crossed Ågade and walked down Falkoner Allé, he crossed to the other side and followed them on the pavement. He couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but he observed their body language. The child was walking at a snail’s pace. She kept stopping to look at things, and several times she sat down on someone’s doorstep. In one hand she held a soft toy, which she dragged along the muddy pavement. Anna seemed lethargic. Her body language told Søren she needed every ounce of her strength to stay calm. One hundred feet from the supermarket, Lily sat down in the middle of the pavement. Anna pulled her arm. The situation boiled over and Anna stomped off after yelling at Lily so loudly that Søren could almost make out the words. When Anna had almost reached the entrance, she stopped and buried her face in her hands. Lily was still sitting on the pavement, sobbing her little heart out and several passersby threw anxious looks at the toddler. Anna went back and picked Lily up. At first, the child kicked her legs in anger, but Anna whispered something in her ear and the crisis passed. For the time being, at least. Anna carried her daughter inside the supermarket, and Søren crossed the road and entered as well. He waited at the entrance where some sad-looking flowers were hoping to find a buyer and watched Anna put a coin in a shopping cart, remove Lily’s snowsuit, and ease her into the child seat. Their first stop was the bakery at the front, where they bought a snail-shaped pastry for Lily. Anna took off her jacket and beanie and briefly looked up. Søren took a step backward and when he looked out again, Anna and her cart had gone down an aisle. Her face was grimy and her hair flattened and greasy from the wool beanie.
Once they were out of sight, Søren found a basket and started doing his own shopping. He trailed them around the store, keeping a suitable distance. He could hear snippets of their conversation. Lily wanted to get down from the cart. As soon as Anna lifted her down, she ran off. Anna caught her, and Lily laughed out loud. Anna wasn’t laughing. Anna grabbed her firmly to put her back in the child seat. Lily went rigid. The two of them struggled. Søren watched them and felt an urge to pick up the child. The girl was the same size as Maja would have been, Søren imagined. Not that he knew anything about children. Lily looked huge in Anna’s arms, like a wild animal Anna couldn’t control, but Søren knew the child would be tiny in his arms. She would curl up like a mouse and fit perfectly inside his shirt pocket. Together, they could smell funny cheeses in the delicatessen or find a bicycle with training wheels and colored streamers on the handlebars while Mommy did the shopping.