Hell Fire

33 April 2005

One day, Bonnie Hayden received a letter. She stood by the mailbox and studied it because she didn’t often get letters and this was fortunately not a bill — at least, she didn’t think it was. She felt immediate relief. It was a rather fancy yellow envelope, and on the bottom left-hand corner it said in blue script “Falck Law Firm.”

Lawyers? She did a double take. She had no idea what lawyers might want with her. For some reason, it made her feel uneasy. She went back to the steps where Simon was waiting, unlocked the door, and went in. She put the letter down on the kitchen table. At first she wanted to rip it open, but then she got nervous. There was something ominous about a letter from a law firm. Why did they want to get in touch with her? She sat down in a chair and looked at the envelope in her hands. Simon was standing in the doorway watching her.

“Do we have to pay more money?” he asked anxiously.

“I don’t know,” was her curt reply.

“Open it.”

“Later. Let’s have something to eat first.”

She put the letter on top of the fridge and started to make supper. After they had eaten, they cleared the table and settled down on the sofa. Bonnie held the letter up to the light, as close as she could to the bulb, in an attempt to read the message. But the writing inside the envelope remained unintelligible black scribbles. Eventually she tore open the envelope and read the letter.

The full address and business hours were given at the bottom.

Bonnie lowered the letter into her lap. It was certainly unexpected. But Erna’s will, what could that mean? She had only worked for her — they weren’t related. She was struck by an amusing thought: perhaps she had inherited something, some coffee cups or silverware. If it’s silverware, I’ll sell it right away, she thought with a smile. Simon saw his mother smiling. It was time for her to read him a bedtime story.

That night, Bonnie lay awake thinking about Erna. She had sometimes wondered if the old woman actually belonged in a mental hospital of some kind, what with the socks on the furniture legs. Whatever the case, she had children and they would be her legal heirs. When she eventually fell asleep, she dreamed about Alex, whom she had grown so fond of in such a short time. And she was getting pretty good at chess. She hadn’t managed to beat him yet, but she had promised herself that one fine day she would.

The Falck offices were in Engene. Bonnie stood outside and looked in through the arched windows. She was wearing her good clothes and smelled of Chanel No. 5. The doors were made from oak and had heavy brass doorknobs. When she entered the waiting room, she walked across the thick carpet and sat down in a nice leather chair. There were paintings and diplomas on the walls and several healthy-looking plants in the windows. She had been thinking of Erna all day. She wasn’t the first client she had lost, but she had been one of the most difficult — the one she always dreaded going to most. As she sat there and waited, she started to feel ashamed. What did she know about getting old? She might become an old battle-ax herself when the time came. If it ever does, she thought, because not everyone lives to be that old. She took a box of IFA lozenges out of her bag and popped one in her mouth. When Christian Falck opened his door, she was amused to see that he looked a bit like the man on the IFA box, the opera singer Ivar F. Andersen. He might break into an aria at any moment. He seemed like a nice man, tall and dark and well dressed. He was a good deal older than she was. She crossed the thick carpet again, her sandals sinking into the deep pile. It felt like she was swaying. She shook his hand and followed him into a very grand office. She had never seen such a desk or such beautiful leather chairs; they were black with dark wood. On the desk, a green lamp gave off a soft glow.

“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I wrote to you,” he said.

“Yes. To be honest, it made me a little nervous,” Bonnie admitted. “I thought that maybe someone was after me.”

“You have no reason to be nervous,” he said. “You knew Erna far better than I did. But I understand from her family that she could be rather difficult. I believe it was you who found her?”

“Yes,” Bonnie said. “She was in the bathroom. I don’t know what the cause of death was, but she had hit her head. I went to the funeral because I felt I should.”

“Did you talk to her family?”

“No, I’d never met them. They wouldn’t have known who I was and there were so many people there. I didn’t go to the reception afterward either because I had to get to a client.”

“And when you lose one client, you are immediately given a new one?” Falck asked.

“Yes, you can say that again. We’ve got long waiting lists.”

She looked around the office. There were shelves and shelves of books, and lots of plants that were far nicer than her own. She spotted a fern, a Swiss cheese plant, and a succulent.

“Now, let me tell you why I’ve asked you here,” Falck said with a smile. “Not everyone writes a will, but Erna Vibe certainly had. It was done long before she died and is very detailed. And signed by several legal witnesses, so no one can contest it. Because, as I’m sure you know and have heard, that does sometimes happen. Inheritance is not to be taken lightly. And the fact is that you are a beneficiary of Erna’s will.”

“I see,” Bonnie said, shaking her head. She had never felt loved by Erna in the way that she did by Gjertrud.

“As regards the house, furniture, and other movables, they will of course go to the family,” he explained. “But she has also left money, and some of it has been left to you.”

“Money?” Bonnie said, astounded. “I didn’t know she had any money; she was very frugal.”

“All old people are frugal,” Falck said. “No matter how wealthy they are. Perhaps that is why they are wealthy. And Erna had a lot of money.”

“Right,” Bonnie said quietly. “I had no idea. Did she inherit it from her husband? He died a long time ago now.”

“Yes,” Falck said. “He was a successful businessman. And Erna looked after his money well. Some wealthy elderly people give their money to various foundations, but Erna gave a lot to the local social services. Which you are part of. But some of the money is directly for you. Your son Simon is also mentioned. She thought of you both.”

Bonnie had never been so surprised in all her life. She remembered the five bottles of perfume and how thrilled she had been to get them.

“Are you sitting comfortably?” Falck asked.

Bonnie looked at him, baffled. “Yes,” she said with a light laugh. “Your chairs are very comfortable.”

He leaned forward over the desk; she noticed that he had a thick gold band on his finger and was wearing not a tie, but a bow tie. He smelled good too. There was something familiar about the scent. Olav.

“Erna has left you two million kroner.”

You could hear a pin drop. His smile was roguish.

“No,” Bonnie said automatically. “No, I don’t believe it. There has to be a mistake.” She felt like the ceiling was floating down and a gentle breeze was playing in the plants.

“A mistake?” Falck said, grinning. “Why do you say that?”

“She’s got children. She’s not allowed to deny them their inheritance — aren’t there laws against that sort of thing?”

“The children are also inheriting a fortune; like I said, she was very wealthy. They have no reason to complain, nor have they. In fact, they have asked me to pass on their regards and thanks for everything you have done for their mother over the years. Erna talked about you all the time, it seems. And how good you were. You were irreplaceable — reliable and good in every way.”

He looked at Bonnie’s astonished face. She kept shaking her head. It was more than she could comprehend. This sort of thing happened to other people, people who had rich uncles in America.

“You must have meant a lot to her,” he continued. “And you have no doubt earned every single penny. That’s what the family says too. Congratulations,” he added, chuckling. “Two million goes a long way. It might take some time before the money comes through, though, but I will let you know as soon as it does. In the meantime, I will need your account details. And now I think you should go out and buy yourself a bottle of good champagne.”

When Bonnie got up from the comfortable chair, her legs would hardly hold her; she took his hand but felt she had no strength. She was a little dizzy, beside herself.

“It will sink in at some point this evening,” Christian Falck assured her. “You may not even be able to sleep tonight. You’ll be floating a foot above the mattress.”

Bonnie had to laugh at that. She thanked him and went back through the waiting room. She opened the heavy oak door and stepped out onto the street into the blue afternoon. I will never again judge anyone in my life, she promised herself. Erna was probably just shy and afraid to show her feelings: old school, the war generation, the ones who never got anything. They kept it all bottled up. She decided to go to Sydney Grill. She ordered a cheeseburger, struggled up onto one of the high bar stools by the window, and looked out. Suddenly she loved this town more than anything in the world. The river and all the bridges, the riverside walk. Saint Hallvard and his woman in the boat, the old theater. The old run-down pubs, Lauritz and Dickens and Kongens Våpen. The old brewery that was illuminated at night. When you saw it on the other side of the river from the station, it looked like a dream palace. A pigeon had strayed into the road, presumably from the main square. It strutted down the grass divide, lithe and beautiful. It wasn’t a gray pigeon with blue feathers. It was a white dove with golden flecks. Didn’t they symbolize peace?

“Old people often save up all their money,” she explained. “And then when they die, the money is given away. And you and I have been given a lot. We don’t have it quite yet because it takes some time before it’s in the bank.”

“How much did we get?” Simon asked, wide-eyed.

“A lot,” Bonnie said. “So we can buy ourselves nice things. You can get a new bike, and I can get a new car.”

“Oh,” he squealed with delight, “is it really that much?”

“We might even be able to go to Gran Canaria,” Bonnie added with a laugh.

Simon sat with his mouth open. What he was hearing was making his head boil and he was flushed to the roots of his hair. “I want to go to Africa,” he said, full of hope.

Bonnie gave it some thought. “Yes, let’s go to Africa and see the lions,” she said. “But we’ll have to get vaccinations first. You know, shots, so we don’t get ill.”

“Yes,” Simon whooped and clapped his hands. “I’ll have loads of shots!”

He started to run around the room with a plastic lion in his hand, and Bonnie went into the kitchen to open the champagne. Just as Falck had said, it really hadn’t sunk in yet, and she certainly wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not on a day like today.