All the houses were made of stone, he noted. Many of them didn’t appear to have thresholds under their front doors,
and there were no decent window seals to be seen. Ove thought it slightly barbaric. One couldn’t bloody build houses like this.
He was on his way back to the hotel when he saw Schosse leaning over a smoking brown car at the side of the road.
Inside sat two children and a very old woman with a shawl around her head. She didn’t seem to be feeling very well.
Schosse caught sight of Ove and waved at him in an agitated manner with something almost like panic in his eyes.
“Sennjaur,” he called out to Ove, the way he’d done every time he’d spoken to him since their arrival.
Ove assumed it meant “Ove” in Spanish, but he hadn’t checked Sonja’s phrase book so carefully.
Schosse pointed at the car and gesticulated wildly at Ove again.
Ove stuck his hands into his trouser pockets and stopped at a safe distance, with a watchful look on his face.
“Hospital!” Schosse shouted again and pointed at the old woman in the car.
In fact, she didn’t look in very good shape, Ove reaffirmed to himself.
Schosse pointed to the woman and pointed under the hood at the smoking engine, repeating despairingly, “Hospital! Hospital!”
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