The Sandman

55

It’s snowing as they get out of the taxi at the Glenn Miller Café. Saga turns her face towards the sky, shuts her eyes and feels the snow fall on her warm skin.

The cramped premises are already full, but they’re in luck and find a free table. Candles flicker in frosted lanterns and the snow slides wetly down the windows facing Brunnsgatan.

Stefan hangs his coat on the back of a chair and goes over to the bar to order.

Saga’s hair is still wet and she shivers as she takes off her green parka, its back dark with damp. The people nearby keep looking round and she’s worried they’ve taken someone’s seats.

Stefan puts two vodka martinis and a bowl of pistachio nuts on the table. They sit opposite each other and drink a silent toast. Saga is about to say how hungry she is when a thin man in glasses comes over.

‘Jacky,’ Stefan says, surprised.

‘I thought I could smell cat-piss.’ Jacky grins.

‘This is my girl,’ Stefan says.

Jacky glances at Saga but doesn’t bother to say hello, just whispers something to Stefan instead and laughs.

‘No, seriously, you’ve got to play with us,’ he says. ‘Mini’s here as well.’

He points to a thickset man who’s making his way towards the corner where an almost black contrabass and a half-acoustic Gibson guitar stand ready.

Saga can’t hear what they’re saying; they’re talking about some legendary gig, a contract that’s the best so far, and a cleverly put-together quartet. She lets her eyes roam round the bar as she waits. Stefan says something to her as Jacky starts pulling him to his feet.

‘Are you going to play?’ Saga asks.

‘Just one song,’ Stefan calls with a smile.

She waves him off. The noise in the bar subsides as Jacky takes the microphone and introduces his guest. Stefan sits down at the piano.

‘ “April in Paris”,’ he says simply, and starts to play.