the lawn. Just as Sophie arrived, one of the boys put a firecracker to the layer
cake, which exploded all over the table and the guests. The worst casualty
was Mrs. Ingebrigtsen’s red pants suit. The curious thing was that both she
and everybody else took it with the utmost calm. Joanna picked up a huge
piece of chocolate cake, smeared it all over Jeremy’s face, and proceeded to
lick it off again.
Her mother and Alberto were sitting in the glider a little way away from
the others. They waved to Sophie.
“So you finally had your confidential talk,” said Sophie.
“And you were perfectly right,” said her mother, quite elated now.
“Alberto is a very altruistic person. I entrust you to his strong arms.”
Sophie sat down between them.
Two of the boys had managed to climb onto the roof. One of the girls
went around pricking holes in all the balloons with a hairpin. Then an uninvited
guest arrived on a motorcycle with a crate of beer and bottles of aquavit
strapped to the carrier. A few helpful souls welcomed him in.
At that, the financial adviser rose from the table. He clapped his hands
and said:
“Do you want to play a game?”
He grabbed a bottle of beer, drank it down, and set the empty bottle in
the middle of the lawn. Then he went to the table and fetched the last five
rings of the birthday cake. He showed the other guests how to throw the rings
so they landed over the neck of the bottle.
“The death throes,” said Alberto. “We’d better get away before the major
ends it all and Hilde closes the ring binder.”
“You’ll have to clear up alone, Mom.”
“It doesn’t matter, child. This was no life for you. If Alberto can give you a
better one, nobody will be happier than I. Didn’t you tell me he had a white
horse?”
Sophie looked out across the garden. It was unrecognizable. Bottles,
chicken bones, buns, and balloons were trampled into the grass.
“This was once my little Garden of Eden,” she said.
“And now you’re being driven out of it,” said Alberto.
One of the boys was sitting in the white Mercedes. He revved the engine
and the car smashed through the garden gate, up the gravel path, and down
into the garden.
Sophie felt a hard grip on her arm as she was dragged into the den.
Then she heard Alberto’s voice:
“Now!”
At the same moment the white Mercedes crashed into an apple tree.
Unripe fruit showered down onto the hood.
“That’s going too far!” shouted the financial adviser. “I demand
substantial compensation!”
His wife gave him her full support.
“It’s that damned scoundrel’s fault! Where is he?”
“They have vanished into thin air,” said Helene Amundsen, not without a
touch of pride.
She drew herself up to her full height, walked toward the long table and
began to clear up after the philosophical garden party.
“More coffee, anyone?”