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Thursday, June 14th, 2012 11:39 pm
I was at work today when it occurred to me that I hadn't posted to LJ for a long, long, loooong time.  And since in the intervening time I've moved city and got properly connected to the internet I have absolutely no excuse not to post any more.  First of all, then, here's the rest of the story I started posting several decades ago.

Five First Dates - Dates Four and Five, and the Epilogue



Four In which Wallander has a lucky escape… again.
Why did he keep doing this? Wallander pondered the question as he sat tensely at a table in Istvan's Pizzeria, his favourite restaurant waiting for yet another complete stranger to turn up. If he thought about it, Linda's constant badgering probably had a great deal to do with it. It was almost like being married again, he thought. When Mona used to go on one of her jags she would pester him like this. Now, he loved Linda, and was glad that they now had a better relationship than before, but sometimes she reminded him a little too much of her mother. He sighed and drank another glass of water hoping that, whoever turned up, it wasn't a drug dealer, a convicted serial fraudster or his boss. He shivered slightly at that thought.
A woman entered the restaurant, caught his gaze and wandered over to his table.
"Kurt?" she asked, tentatively.
"Yes, that's me. How do you do?" He cursed himself for being so formal, but better that than overly-familiar, he thought.
"Marit Svedman." She shook his hand eagerly and sat down opposite. She was quite a pretty young woman, he thought, definitely younger than the others, especially… no, he would try not to think of that again.
"So you're a policeman? I'd better behave myself tonight!" she giggled. This time, Wallander had thought it best to come clean about his job before they met, just to give any criminals the chance to avoid him. He smiled at her and confirmed that yes, she needed to behave, or they might be in for a little trip down to the station.
"That's all right though, I'd love to see where you work!" she giggled again. Wallander hoped that the next comment out of her mouth was not going to be about handcuffs; it could get a little awkward and besides, he had never understood the appeal of handcuffs to certain people. Fortunately the subject was never raised, although he was quietly amazed at how flirty Marit was. She was very open and candid, and within five minutes of introducing herself had told him about her job, her favourite holiday destination and the kind of men she liked. Apparently Wallander fell into this category. He supposed he should be honoured, even though he felt that, based on their relative ages, he should probably be dating Marit's mother.
They ordered their meals, after much approving comment from Marit over the menu.
"I'm so glad you invited me here!" she enthused. "I love pizza!"
"Well, good. This is one of my favourite little places in Ystad. I hoped you would enjoy it."
At this point Istvan arrived with their starters. Marit dug in with great relish; Wallander had never seen anyone enjoy a salad so much. If only all the women in his life had been this easy to please, he thought. Those years married to Mona could have turned out to be so much more pleasant.
The thing that bothered him now, however, was that Marit was enjoying her food so much that she kept insisting he try it, even trying feed him a forkful of her salad. He could feel himself becoming flustered and self-conscious. What would the other customers in the restaurant think? Eventually he persuaded her to eat the salad herself, to which she shrugged and proceeded to finish her plate, with obvious enjoyment. He found her enthusiasm quite charming, really, even if she was making a spectacle of them both.
In spite of little embarrassments, it was an enjoyable, if exhausting evening. Marit was lively company, and gratified him by laughing at his jokes, even telling a few of her own in return. She asked him if he wanted to go dancing, which surprised him a little. It had been a long time since anyone had wanted to go dancing with him. He regretfully declined, as he had to be at the station early the next day. He was conducting a press conference, which would only be made worse by turning up tired and aching. Marit looked disappointed, but took it in her stride.
"Maybe next time, then?" she suggested.
Wallander was about to agree that this would be a very agreeable plan for their next evening together, when a tall, hefty-looking man burst into the restaurant. He saw Marit and stormed over to her.
"I knew I'd find you here!" he shouted. "Did you think I wouldn't find out what you were up to, you stupid cow? Shared email account, remember?"
"Oh, frick…" Marit said in a small voice.
"Marit?" said Wallander, incredulously. This was going to get ugly, he thought.
"You get the hell away from my wife!" bellowed the man, with a great deal of menace in his narrowed dark eyes.
"Your wife?" replied Wallander. "She said nothing to me about being married. Nothing at all."
"No, she wouldn't," the man snarled.
"Ingvar, please!" interjected Marit. "The way you behave is it any wonder I have to get out for the evening sometimes?"
At this moment, Istvan hurried over to their table.
"Please!" he implored. "You're upsetting my other customers. Please do not fight in my restaurant!"
"Fight? I haven't started yet!" Ingvar growled, tensing his fists.
Wallander had no idea where his sudden sense of calmness came from, but in his position there was only one thing to be done.
"Istvan, please call the police. You know the number for the station." The Hungarian obediently trotted to the phone and made a call, still shooting nervous glances back over at them. Ingvar glared at Wallander. Wallander stared back. Situations like this made him nervous, but better to call for help than try to handle this angry man himself and end up with a broken jaw for his pains.
"I think I'm entitled to confront my wife when I find her carrying on with another man," said Ingvar in an unpleasant voice.
"You're not entitled to make threats," Wallander countered. "And especially not to police officers."
"Police officer? Right, that's it!" Ingvar snapped. "I hate the lot of you, crooked pigs!" He loomed intimidatingly over Wallander. "It was your lot that sent my brother down for something he didn't do. Let's take this outside." He grabbed Wallander's collar, but before he could do anything Svartman and Stefan rushed into the restaurant and pulled him away.
"All right, that's enough!" Stefan shouted. "I might have known it was you, Svedman. Not very bright are you? Come on, let's go."
Stefan and Svartman handcuffed Ingvar and hauled him into Stefan's car, where he sat glaring out at them. Stefan wandered back to where Wallander was leaning against the wall. He suddenly felt very weary.
"Thank you, Stefan," he said weakly. His colleague nodded.
"I keep having to get you out of these situations, don't I?"
Wallander gave him a feeble smile. Stefan knew exactly what had been happening there that night. He wouldn't say anything about it, short of some mild ribbing the next day, but the fact that he knew made Wallander uncomfortable. This really was getting embarrassing.
"Actually, you've done us a favour," Stefan said. "We've been looking for him in relation to something else. He's a complete nutter. Stupid too. Well, see you tomorrow, okay?"
Stefan got back in his car and drove away. Vaguely aware of Marit's presence beside him, Wallander turned to her.
"Look," he said. "We shouldn't see each other again. For obvious reasons, I don't think it would be a good idea."
Then he turned and walked off home. He had already decided, Linda was going to get a flea in her ear for this.


Five - In which Wallander gets more than he bargained for.
Wallander strolled by the shore, a pleasant breeze ruffling his hair. He watched the boats riding the strait between the shore where he stood and the rocky headland opposite, feeling slightly envious of the people in them. What he needed was a distraction like that. He wondered if he should go for a swim.
He was here at Holgersson's insistence, of course. He had accrued a lot of untaken leave and she had been adamant that he take a holiday. There were no major cases at the moment. Things were, in fact, so quiet that his team had been reduced to running a video game tournament to pass the time. Someone had brought in a Playstation and most of his officers' time was spent crowded round it in friendly competition. Being of the wrong generation to appreciate Playstations and such like, Wallander hadn't really needed much persuasion to take some time off. Most of Ystad's criminals seemed to be on holiday, he might as well go on holiday too.
So here he was, taking the air at Saltsjöbaden – the real Saltsjöbaden this time, not its hotel namesake – and trying to fend off boredom. He needed something to do.
As he was walking back to his hotel, wondering whether or not to go into Stockholm and contend with the mobs of tourists (tourists always made him feel grumpy and misanthropic), he clashed shoulders with someone. He turned round, apologising, and saw that it was the woman who was staying in the next room at the hotel. They had spoken for a while the previous evening and he had liked her. She was about his age and quite attractive, with friendly blue eyes.
"I'm so sorry!" she said.
"No, it was my fault. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going."
"You certainly looked deep in thought."
"I was just trying to make up my mind what to do for the rest of the day."
"Why don't you come for a walk? It's so nice out today."
Wallander agreed to join her and they walked away from the main part of the village, towards the woods, making conversation as they went. His companion, whose name was Agnetha, was good company. She was here on a short holiday with her daughter-in-law and grandson. They had gone to Stockholm, so she was on her own today. She was divorced, kept several dogs and worked as a translator. On a whim, Wallander asked if she wanted to join him for dinner that night.
"Of course, I'd love to!" she said, giving him one of her warm smiles.
"Shall we say seven o'clock?"
"It's a date!"
They parted, and Wallander went back to the hotel with a spring in his step. He felt that this evening would go much more smoothly than his previous four evenings out. For a start, he had actually met her in person before the date. He knew who he would be spending the evening with. These things tended to make a difference, he thought.
At seven o'clock Wallander waited for Agnetha by the door to the hotel restaurant. She was a few minutes late, but he really didn't mind that, as long as she got there in the end.
A few minutes after seven, Agnetha appeared, looking flustered and towing a small boy.
"I'm so sorry, Kurt," she said. "Sonja my daughter-in-law is not well tonight, so my grandson Mathias will be joining us. I hope that's not going to be a problem."
Wallander tried not to look as crestfallen as he felt. Of course Agnetha had to look after the little boy, but he couldn't help feeling disappointed that they were not going to have the cosy meal that they'd planned.
"Of course it's not a problem," he said, forcing a smile. "Let's find a table, shall we?"
The restaurant was busy, as it was popular with hotel guests and non-residents alike. In the midst of the bustle and chatter they found a table situated near a fish tank. This immediately posed a problem, as Mathias refused to stay in his seat, preferring instead to stand watching the fish. Agnetha gently scolded him and he pulled a face at her and sat down reluctantly.
Eventually a waiter arrived and they ordered their meals. Wallander ordered some wine for himself and Agnetha, and orange juice for Mathias. Unfortunately, the boy had decided that he wanted some of his grandmother's wine, despite her admonitions to the contrary.
"But I had wine at home!" he protested.
"No you didn't, dear," said Agnetha. "That was lingonberry syrup in a special glass." Wallander watched, amused by the boy's stubbornness. However, a moment later he was very unamused when Mathias knocked Agnetha's wine glass flying while reaching for his juice. The deep red wine soaked into everything, including Wallander's shirt. Agnetha gasped in horror.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she cried, helping him mop himself with napkins.
"No, don't worry," Wallander tried to reassure her, as he examined the large red stain on his new shirt. "It could have happened to anyone."
With the waiter's help, they cleaned up as much of the spill as possible. The shirt was probably ruined. Agnetha moved her glass as far from Mathias as possible, threatening him with a high-chair if he didn't sit still. Mathias threatened her back with a Transformer toy in her salad. Wallander would have found it comical if he hadn't just been soaked in wine.
After a while the main courses arrived. Wallander had ordered fish, which was of an excellent standard at this hotel. He tucked in, trying to make light conversation with Agnetha, who was carving up a steak.
"That's not a reindeer is it?" Mathias interjected.
Agnetha looked mildly embarrassed. "No, dear, it's not reindeer, it's beef. Please keep your voice down, you're putting Kurt off his food."
"I'm putting you off your food as well, grandma!" beamed the little boy. Wallander laughed silently to himself at the lad's mischief.
At long last, they finished their meal. Mathias had taken an age to eat his spaghetti and then bolted through his ice cream and sat fidgeting as Wallander and Agnetha talked. When they got up to go, he bolted for the door.
"I'm going up to see Mum!" he yelled. Agnetha flinched at the volume of his voice. She turned to Wallander, looking absolutely exhausted.
"I'm so sorry about that," she said. "He's normally so good, but I think Sonja has filled him up with sugary treats today. And I'm sorry about your shirt. Let me give you something toward the cleaning bill?"
"No, no need for that," Wallander replied. "Well, it's been… fun. But I think we both need a rest now, hmm?" Agnetha nodded and began to climb the stairs.
"Well, goodnight Kurt," she said. He waved goodnight to her, went into the bar and ordered a large Scotch. Grandchildren, he thought, just one more thing for me to look forward to. He downed the drink in two gulps and went upstairs to bed.


The Aftermath
Wallander returned from his holiday refreshed, if a little sheepish. When Linda pressed him for details he told her about Agnetha and Mathias. She fell about laughing, much to his chagrin.
"It wasn't that funny!" he protested.
"I would have loved to have met Mathias," Linda smirked. "He sounds like he had you both wrapped round his little finger."
"His grandmother, certainly. Me, well, I wouldn't be so sure."
Linda smiled warmly at him. She enjoyed these times with her dad, drinking whisky and talking about the ups and downs of their lives. Wallander also enjoyed these things. He had spent so much time away from Linda when she was young that it was good to make up for lost time now.
The next evening he decided on a whim to go out. Linda was out of town on an investigation and he was bored and in need of company. For a moment he toyed with the idea of asking Stefan or Nyberg if they wanted to go, but then thought better of it. Nyberg had been in a bad mood all day and Stefan probably didn't want to spend his leisure time with his boss.
Sitting at the bar he reflected that on evenings like this it was good to have a companion. He thought about the few women he had dated since his divorce. There was Baiba, over in Riga. That had petered out; the distance hadn't helped. Then there was Anja. That was a sore one. He still missed her.
Perhaps this is it for me, he thought. Perhaps I'm not meant to be a success with women. This made him gloomy, and he ordered another Scotch.
As he drank he glanced across the room. A woman was at the other end of the bar with her back to him, presumably arranging her handbag on the seat next to her. However, there was something familiar about her. As she straightened up and turned back to her drink Wallander could see her in profile. It was Höglund. He was surprised. Irrationally, he was also very pleased. He finished his drink and went over to speak to her.
"Ann-Britt," he called to her.
She looked up in surprise when she heard his voice, but didn't seem unhappy to see him. The children were staying with their father, so she was letting her hair down for the evening. She too was glad to have company. They chatted for a few minutes. The minutes turned into a couple of hours. Before they knew it, it was closing time and they were walking slowly through the streets. Wallander walked her to her door.
"You know," she said as they stood on the doorstep, "We should do this again."
"Yes. Yes we should," agreed Wallander.
They said goodnight and she went inside. Wallander stood by the door, lost in thought for a moment or two, before turning and strolling in the direction of home.
Could it be? He could be completely off track, of course, but was it possible that what he'd been looking for had been right under his nose the whole time?
The next day he cautiously arranged to meet up with Ann-Britt again the following week. Just friends having a drink? Possibly, but there was the hope of something else, something that they were both looking for.
Linda returned from her investigation with a spring in her step. Both Wallander and Stefan suspected that she had met someone, but she refused to tell them anything. To Wallander's relief she also stopped trying to patch up his love-life.
Stefan, after much moping, which had worried Ebba no end, finally began a new relationship with a psychologist that Wallander had introduced him to. Everyone in the team was surprised, especially Stefan.
Lisa Holgersson put her evening of indiscretion behind her and found a good divorce lawyer. Wallander never mentioned their "date" to anyone. It was more than his life was worth. They both gave their erstwhile acquaintance Eriksson a wide berth.
Life, as usual, carried on, regardless of relationships, loneliness, embarrassments and excitements. There were crimes to solve, lawbreakers to catch and, Wallander decided, no more spare for looking at the Personals column.