The Royal Copenhagen coffee cups were still on the table, with just the dregs in the bottom; the cake dishes were cleaned out and the glasses of juice empty.
Blue polka-dot napkinsโboth fresh and soiledโwere lying all over the place. The tablecloth was covered in coffee stains and crumbs, and here and there were red rings left by the glassware. The youngest children had rushed off, leaving the chairs pulled out from the table.
Half of the children were now on the Josef Frank sofa. The other half were running around shrieking, caught up in a heated sugar rush. A tennis ball came out of nowhere, fortunately hitting a gap between the souvenir plates hanging on the wall depicting different cities in Europe: Berlin, Prague, Budapest, Paris, Rostock, Leipzig, Bonn.
During the last week of school, the grandchildren had stayed with their grandparents so that their parents could take a holiday to Brittany. Sisters Malin and Lotta wanted to do it before the summer holidays began, and half of Sweden went down to France. During the past week, Grandpa Stellan had taken refuge in the study while Grandma Agneta had made breakfast and dinner and driven the kids to and from school and their leisure activities.
Not to mention keeping an eye on them as they bathed off the jetty in the unusually warm early summer evenings. As well as all the clothes, tablets, chargers and schoolbooks. And now both of the sisters were there with their husbands, to take their children home again. It was almost as if the house was breathing a sigh of relief at the fact that peace would soon reign supreme and everything would return to normal.
