Then, before he could protest, she squeezed past him and headed for his bathroom.
“Yes,” said Ove, lifting the telephone to within a couple of inches of his ear,
slightly unclear about whether he was still talking to Parvaneh or the person at the other end.
“Hi!” yelled the journalist woman, Lena. Ove felt it might be wise to move the phone farther away from his ear.
“So, are you ready to give me an interview now?” she went on in a gung-ho tone.
“No,” said Ove, holding the telephone in front of him to work out how to hang up.
“Did you read the letter I sent you? Or the newspaper? Have you read the newspaper?
I thought I’d let you see it, so you can form an impression of our journalistic style!”
Ove went into the kitchen. Picked up the newspaper and letter that Adrian fellow had brought over a few days earlier.
“Have you got it?” roared the journalist woman. “Calm yourself down. I’m reading it, aren’t I!”
Ove said out loud to the telephone and leaned over the kitchen table.
“I was just wondering if—” she continued valiantly. “Can you CALM DOWN, woman!” Ove raged.
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