The Scent of Almonds and Other Stories. Camilla Lackberg

everyone had filled their plates and then taken seats at the beautifully set dining-room table. Outside the window the snowfall had increased, turning into almost blizzard-like conditions. As Börje moved around the table pouring cold schnapps into everyone’s glass, he seemed worried.

      ‘It’s not looking good. According to the weather forecast, we’re in for a real storm. It may be difficult for anyone to reach the mainland if they have to,’ he said, nodding at the snow outside.

      ‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Ruben in his dry, old-man’s voice. ‘We’re not planning to go anywhere until Sunday, and we’re certainly not going to starve.’

      Everyone laughed at his remark. A bit too loudly, a bit too heartily. A disapproving furrow appeared between Ruben’s bushy eyebrows. He’s probably sick and tired of everyone fawning over him, thought Martin. For a second they exchanged glances, and Martin realized that the old man was aware of what he was thinking. He lowered his eyes and focused on spreading a dab of mustard on one of the little sausages that curled up at either end. When he was a kid, Martin had called them ‘permed’ sausages, which was something his parents still reminded him of every Christmas when he visited them.

      ‘So, Bernard,’ said Ruben, shifting his attention to his grandson. ‘How’s the firm doing these days? I’ve heard a number of rumours lately.’

      A few seconds of oppressive silence ensued before Bernard replied.

      ‘Nothing but spiteful gossip. Business is better than ever.’

      ‘Is that so? That’s not what I’ve been hearing,’ said Ruben. ‘And my sources – as you well know – are considered highly reliable.’

      ‘No offence to your sources, Grandpa Ruben, but I can imagine that they may not be in the thick of things any longer. So what would they know about …’

      A sharp look from Vivi made Bernard fall silent. Speaking in a somewhat less aggressive tone, he said: ‘All I can say is that your sources are wrong. We’re going to show excellent results in the next quarter.’

      ‘And what about you, Miranda? How’s it going with your design company?’ Ruben’s eyes were as piercing as X-rays, and Miranda squirmed as she answered the question.

      ‘Er, well, we’ve had a bit of bad luck. A number of orders have been cancelled of late, and we’ve had to do a few jobs pro bono in order to establish customer references, and—’

      Ruben held up his bony hand. ‘Okay, thanks, that’s enough. I get the picture. In other words, there’s not much left of the capital that I invested. Am I right?’

      ‘Um … well, you see, Grandpa, I was planning to talk to you about that …’ She twirled a strand of her lovely dark hair around her finger as she gave the old man an ingratiating smile.

      ‘The children are so clever and they work so hard,’ said Vivi, trying to rescue the situation. Tugging nervously at her pearl necklace, she babbled on: ‘Lately, Gustav and I hardly ever see them at home. They’re always working, working, working …’

      The bits of sausage started to swell inside Martin’s mouth. The conversation had taken an unpleasant turn, and he tried to catch Lisette’s eye. Like the other family members, she was sitting at the table in tense anticipation, greedily following the exchange of words.

      ‘Any plans to start working sometime soon, Lisette?’

      Lisette found herself stumbling for something to say as her grandfather suddenly focused his attention on her.

      ‘I’m … I’m … well, you know, I’m studying,’ she stammered nervously as she seemed to shrink in her chair.

      ‘Yes, I do know that,’ replied Ruben drily. ‘I’m the one financing your studies. And have been for eight years now. I wonder whether it isn’t time for you to put some of that knowledge into practice.’ His tone was deceptively gentle, but Lisette kept her frightened gaze on her lap as she murmured, ‘Yes, Grandpa.’ He snorted and then turned to his sons.

      ‘Having some problems at work, I hear.’

      Martin saw Harald and Gustav quickly exchange glances. A wordless communication that lasted all of a second, but in that moment Martin was able to read both hatred and alarm.

      ‘What have you heard, Father?’ Harald said at last, accompanying the question with a big but superficial smile. It was his hands that betrayed his true feelings, manically tearing the napkin to shreds as he talked.

      ‘Everything’s going smoothly, as always. Business as usual, you know. Just like in your day.’

      ‘My day,’ grunted Ruben. ‘You know quite well that “my day” was no more than two years ago. You make it sound as if a hundred years has passed since I stood at the helm. And if I hadn’t developed these …’ he searched for the right words ‘… health problems, I’d still be standing there. But I have my sources within the company. And I’ve heard some things that are very disturbing.’ He shook his finger as he looked from Harald to Gustav.

      Prompted by an urgent glance from Harald, Gustav cleared his throat and spoke. ‘As Harald said, everything is fine. I don’t know what you may have heard—’

      Again Ruben grunted and saliva spewed from his mouth as he exclaimed: ‘What a sorry lot you are! All your lives you’ve been holding on to my coat-tails, spending my money, expecting to receive a silver spoon the minute you open your mouths! And against my better judgement I’ve given you countless opportunities. I’ve handed out more and more money for your enterprises, and I’ve allowed you’ – he indicated his two sons – ‘to take charge of my company, because I wanted so dearly to have the firm stay in the family. But you’ve all betrayed me! You’ve misappropriated and squandered and diminished everything I’ve ever given to you. And now I’ve had enough!’

      Ruben slammed his fist on the table, making everyone jump. Martin knew that he should flee from this unpleasant situation he’d found himself in, yet he had the same feeling as if he’d happened upon a traffic accident. He just couldn’t tear his eyes away.

      ‘It’s my intention to disinherit every single one of you! I’ve rewritten my will, and it’s ready to be signed and witnessed. You’ll get no more than I am legally obliged to give you. A number of carefully chosen charities will thank their lucky stars, come the day I kick the bucket – because they’ll be getting the bulk of my fortune!’

      The whole family stared at the man in the wheelchair. It looked as if someone had hit pause and frozen the tableau, because not one person moved. There wasn’t a sound in the room except for Ruben’s laboured breathing and the storm outside that now pounded like a wild animal on the windowpanes.

      His outburst must have made Ruben thirsty, because he raised his water glass with a trembling hand and greedily drank every drop. Still no one spoke, no one moved. Ruben set down his glass, looking as if the air were slowly seeping out of him, like a punctured balloon.

      A slight tremor in his face was the first warning that something was wrong, followed by a faint twitching on the right side, which rapidly moved to the left. Spasms began rippling through his body. To begin with they were barely noticeable, but they quickly intensified. A guttural sound issued from his throat, and then his whole, wizened frame started shaking as he sat in his chair. At that point the others reacted.

      ‘Grandpa!’ shrieked Lisette, throwing herself towards him.

      Bernard also leapt to his feet, but both of them hesitated, unsure what to do. Bernard gripped Ruben’s scrawny shoulders, but the spasms were so strong that he couldn’t hold the old man still.

      ‘He’s dying, he’s dying!’ screamed Vivi, yanking so hard on her pearl necklace that the string broke and pearls cascaded all over the floor.

      ‘Do something!’ shouted Britten, looking around helplessly.

      Martin rushed towards Ruben, but no sooner did he reach the old man’s side than the spasms abruptly