report to the foreman there tomorrow morning,” she said sternly.
Ove stared at her, then at the paper. She leaned in closer.
The director asked me to pass on another message: You did not take that wallet when you were nine years old.
And he’ll be deuced if you took anything now.
And it would be a damned pity for him to be responsible for kicking a decent man’s son into the street just because the son has some principles.”
And so it turned out that Ove became a night cleaner instead.
And if this hadn’t happened, he would never have come off his shift that morning and caught sight of her.
With those red shoes and the gold brooch and all her burnished brown hair.
And that laughter of hers, which, for the rest of his life, would make him feel
as if someone was running around barefoot on the inside of his breast.
She often said that “all roads lead to something you were always predestined to do.”
And for her, perhaps, it was something. But for Ove it was someone.
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