Page 21 of The Second Chance Bus Stop
‘I’m sorry to be asking all these questions, it might be nothing, but, did your uncle ever live in London?’
‘London?’ She laughs. ‘He would hardly go to Lund. He hated planes. I can’t remember a single time he travelled during my childhood. I don’t think he even had a passport.’
Well, there goes that dream. It could of course be as simple as my mum having gotten the Sven wrong. She must have found the same list of Svens and their addresses that I did and tried them all, not knowing where hers had gone. That’s why she sent a postcard to this shop.
‘Is this to do with your dad search? Listen, Sven is a very common name. I’ve met several of them.’ She doesn’t expand but begins to fiddle with the hem of her shirt again. She’s unfortunately right. How many Svens would have lived in Svedala over the years? It’s like looking for a John in Ipswich. Or a Sebastian or Max in an investment bank. I’ve crossed the deceased Sven from yesterday off my list and am now crossing the shop Sven off it too. Four left: all in different parts of the country.
‘He’s not my dad, this Sven. I’m not even sure who he is exactly but I’m doing my best to find him. To help someone who lost contact with him years ago.’
‘Oh.’ She gestures for me to come behind the counter where she’s filled a glass with tap water for me. ‘I’m sorry I can’t help be of more help. And I actually have to start working now. I have a lot of things to pack up.’
I drink some water, although I’m not thirsty, just reluctant to leave. This was the best lead I had and I’m not quite ready to let it go.
‘Do you have kids?’ I ask her. There is a drawing on the wall behind her. It shows a man and a little girl and then awoman standing behind them; she’s just as big, though. Whoever drew them hadn’t learnt perspective yet. They all wear flower-patterned clothes, and to the left is a square house with curtains and a chimney that exhausts in grey.
‘No. I made this when I was little. With my uncle. We used to have these characters: Miss Grass Flower and Mr Yarrow and Miss Marigold. We’d draw them in their little house and talk about what they’d be up to.’ Her whole face lights up as she’s telling me.
‘They look like a lovely family.’
‘I think they were as happy as stick people can be.’
I smile and she returns it sending my eyes everywhere but hers. Looking down I notice the large cardboard boxes in the back room.
‘Another funeral?’
‘Won’t be telling you in case you decide to crash it.’
‘Honestly. Those days are behind me. Well,aday behind me.’
‘I’m going on tour. Eksjö, Tenhult, Markaryd and Jönköping,’ she says listing a string of places and one of them jumps out at me. ‘IfI can squeeze everything I need into my car. It’s a large job, and I sort of said yes without exactly having a clear plan in place, hoping that I could figure it all out later. But it’s proving to be a rather difficult task carting all these flowers all around the country.’
‘Jönköping. That’s not far from where I’m headed. I’m going to Växjö.’
‘It’s actually the town farthest away on my contract. The others are a bit sporadically dotted along the way,’ she adds.
I pause for a moment, know this is going to sound absurd, but before I can stop myself the idea slips out.
‘This is going to sound strange, but I actually have a large mobile home—well, an RV. A camper-van. The rental place at the airport was all out of alternative options, holidays andsuch, and I needed a way to get around Sweden. To look for this Sven. So I said yes and now I’m driving this large RV around—but it’s massive, see, and it would likely have plenty of space—for all your boxes, flowers, whatever else you need to bring. And we’re headed to the same location it sounds like...’ I trail off as my brain catches up with my mouth.
Did I just...?The urge to be wiped off this earth by, say, a falling hanging flowerpot has never been this strong before. I clearly should not be allowed out in public. Fuckingever.
Sophia
Svedala
Lina is here, coming in for her usual morning break. And she clearly overheard the conversation that just took place.
‘Did you hear that, Sophia? This man here is driving a large mobile home with a lot of space, all over Sweden!’
‘Yes, so he said.’
‘Space for flowers! And space for a Sophia!’
Oh no. She can’t possibly think that—
‘You should totally go together! Would you believe—what a coincidence!—you both are heading the same way. I’d say sharing is caring, and also half the price in fuel would help balance that spreadsheet even faster.’
‘I really wouldn’t mind,’ I hear Funeral Crasher say. By now I’ve decided that he is most likely a red dragon,Persicaria microcephalia, which is prized for the beauty of their leaves but can be invasive and will need to be controlled.
