The others collectively rolled their eyes at this. All except Estelle, who shivered and asked: “It’s cold in here, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it? Cooler than Roger had budgeted for!” Ro exclaimed, to lighten the mood, then regretted it at once because Roger’s mood didn’t seem to have been lightened at all.

Julia, who by now was aching in most parts of her body, and who had run out of patience altogether, elbowed her way past them all and went and closed the balcony door. Then she went over to the open fireplace and started to sort out the wood.

“We might as well light a fire while we wait for the pizzas.”

The bank robber stood in the middle of the room with the pistol in her hand, for all the good that was doing. She looked at the group of hostages, which had now grown by one more person, which the bank robber could only assume would increase the length of her prison sentence proportionately. So she sighed: “You don’t have to wait for the pizzas. You can all go now. I’ll give up and let the police do… well, whatever they’re thinking of doing. You can all go first, I’ll wait here, so that no one else gets hurt. I never meant to… take anyone hostage. I just needed money for the rent so my ex-husband’s lawyer wouldn’t take my daughters away from me. It was… sorry… I’m an idiot, you didn’t deserve any of this… sorry.”

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she was no longer making any attempt to stop them. Maybe it was the fact that she looked so small that got to the others. Or maybe they each in turn found themselves thinking about what they’d actually experienced that day, and what it had meant for them. Suddenly they all started to protest at the same time, talking over each other:

“But you can’t just…,” Estelle began.

“You haven’t hurt anyone!” Anna-Lena went on.

“There must be some way of solving this,” Julia nodded.

“Perhaps we could find a way out?” Lennart suggested.

“We certainly need a bit of time to gather all the information before you let us go!” Roger declared.

“And the bidding hasn’t even started yet,” the real estate agent piped up.

“We could just wait for the pizzas, couldn’t we?” Ro suggested.

“Yes, let’s have something to eat. This has all turned out to be rather pleasant, hasn’t it, getting to know each other like this? And that’s all thanks to you!” Estelle beamed.

“I’m sure the police won’t shoot you. Not much, anyway,” Anna-Lena said comfortingly.

“Why don’t we all go outside with you? They won’t fire if we all leave at the same time!” Julia insisted.

“There must be a way out, if it’s possible to sneak into a viewing, then it must be possible to sneak out,” Lennart pointed out.

“Let’s all sit down and make a plan!” Roger demanded.

“And make bids on the apartment!” the real estate agent added hopefully.

“And eat pizza!” Ro said.

* * *

The bank robber looked at each of them in turn for a long time. Then she whispered gratefully: “Worst hostages ever.”

“Help me lay the table,” Estelle said, taking her by the arm.

The bank robber didn’t resist, and went with Estelle into the kitchen. She returned with glasses and plates. Julia carried on sorting out the fire. Zara wrestled with her personality for a while, then handed Julia her lighter without her having asked for it.

Roger was standing beside the fireplace, unsure of how to make himself useful, and said to Julia: “Do you know how to do that?”

Julia glared at him, and was about to tell him that her mom had taught her how to make a fire, in such a way that Roger couldn’t be sure that didn’t mean Julia and her mother had set fire to her father. But it had been a long day, they had all heard one another’s stories, and that made it harder to dislike one another, so Julia said something incredibly generous instead.

“No. Can you show me how to do it?”

Roger nodded slowly, crouched down, and started to talk to the wood.

“We can… I’m assuming we can, unless you… we can do it together,” he mumbled.

She swallowed and nodded.

“I’d like that.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

Then he showed her how he usually started fires.

“Is it supposed to smoke that much?” Julia wondered.

“There’s something wrong with the wood,” Roger grunted.

“Really?”

“There’s something wrong with the damn wood, I tell you!”

“Have you opened the damper?”

“Of course I’ve opened the damn damper!”

Julia opened the damper. Roger muttered under his breath and she started to laugh. He joined in. They weren’t looking at each other, but the smoke was stinging their eyes and tears were streaming down their cheeks. Julia glanced at him.

“Your wife’s nice,” she said.

“So’s yours,” he replied.

They each poked at separate pieces of wood in the fireplace.

“If you and Anna-Lena would really like the apartment, then—” Julia began, but he interrupted her.

“No. No. This is a good apartment for children. You and Ro should buy it.”

“I don’t think Ro wants it, she finds fault with everything,” Julia sighed.

Roger poked harder at the fire.

“She’s just scared she isn’t good enough for you and the baby. You need to tell her that’s nonsense. She’s worried she won’t be able to mend the baseboards herself, so you’ll just have to tell her that no one can fix the damn baseboards until they’ve done it once. Everybody has to start somewhere!”

Julia let that sink in. She stared into the fire. Roger did the same. Each of them staring at a different piece of wood, a bit of flame, a lot of smoke.

“Can I say something personal, Roger?” she whispered after a while.

“Hmm.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to Anna-Lena. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone anymore. You’re good enough.”

They each poked at the fire. And they both got a hell of a lot of smoke in their eyes. They said nothing more.

* * *

There was a knock at the door. Because the policeman outside had finally figured out that the doorbell didn’t work.

62

“I’ll get it,” the bank robber said.

“No! What if it’s the police?!” Ro exclaimed.

“It’s probably just the pizzas,” the bank robber guessed.

“Are you mad? The police would never send a pizza delivery guy into a hostage situation! I mean, you’re armed and dangerous!” Ro said.

“I’m not dangerous,” the bank robber said, hurt.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Ro said, apologetically.

Roger got to his feet over by the fireplace, which was smoking considerably less now, and pointed at the bank robber with a lump of wood as if it were his hand.

“Ro’s right. If you open the door, the police might shoot you. It would be better if I went!”