up. To Glenda's surprise, he answered.
– Yes, miss. You could have sprained your neck here. I read it too, albeit in other sources. – he straightened up, as happens when you suddenly remember that this is an important person in front of you, or you just want to show off in front of a young woman. – Iver Larsen from Copenhagen. Nice to meet you. – a man of about forty-five with a beautiful Greek nose extended his right hand as if he had only dreamed of doing this the entire flight. Surprisingly, he wasn’t so kind when landing, he didn’t even help her carry her bags upstairs.
– Glenda Miller from London, now from Copenhagen. I'm planning to buy a house there.
“Why am I telling him everything? Maybe I miss communication so much that I’m ready to pour out my soul even to strangers? Well, he is handsome, strong build, light brown, somewhere ashy hair, gray-blue eyes. Typical Scandinavian, but very attractive. A little old, but there is something so familiar about it. I think he can be trusted. Fortunately, there is no ring on my finger.”
While all this heap of thoughts ran through her naturally beautiful, but tired from sobbing, head, Glenda drank the juice that that same inattentive flight attendant Anna had so kindly served.
Iver also slowly sipped a Coca-Cola and looked over the seats towards the pilot’s cabin.
“Something happened there five minutes ago, as if we were in a dangerous zone, something like the center of a thundercloud, into which the plane is forbidden to fly.”
– You were asleep, weren't you?
– Yes, but I have good hearing. Coming out of the cockpit, the flight attendant forgot to close it for a moment, and I heard a couple of remarks.
– And what did you hear? – Glenda asked almost with delight. Her body pulled closer to the speaker, her face burned with interest, and goosebumps ran across her skin. This happens to children when, on a late autumn evening, their grandmother tells creepy stories in an armchair by the fireplace. You seem to be scared, but you feel so comfortable, because there is someone nearby who will save you from all the monsters of the world.
– “Branch of Hell.” We can't get around. We are walking straight into the face of death…
– What, that’s what they said?
– Yes. I reproduced it exactly.
– What a nightmare. What else have you heard? – No matter how hard she tried, the bloody faces could not leave Glenda’s head. Still, she managed to overcome herself and push away the terrible memories for a while.
– Nothing, then the light went out, and then everything cleared up.
– Marvelous. So does this mean we have passed death?
– One hundred percent.
– Lucky ones. I think this is a sign! – A sign? Which one?
– Today I was in such a decline that life was not nice to me. And now, having almost lost her, I understand that no guys in the world can deprive me of my thirst for life.
– So that's what it's all about! Love story. “Larsen’s face changed; he peered into Glenda’s brown eyes to see in them the answer to his silent question. “Are you still in love with that bastard who made you think about death?”
– You're right, but it's over. My life begins again. – she tore out the previously covered sheet of notebook and, without any regret, crumbled it into small pieces.
– If you drive along Vesterbrogade, you will see a small street called Helgolandskeid, where a nice two-story apartment with a private entrance from the street is for sale. I know the owner, I can tell you his number.
Glenda was a little taken aback by such a sudden transition back to the topic of her migration. This man is interested in her, one hundred percent. How else can you explain all this?
– Certainly! I would be grateful. – Glenda suddenly pulled herself up for her naivety and stupidity. What if he specifically sells her a house, which he will visit without invitation and rape her. – Are you by any chance a maniac?
A roar of laughter shook all of Mr. Larsen's muscles. He couldn’t stop for a long time, and people from the neighboring seats began to turn to look at him. It was so strange for her, Glenda, to feel alarmed and safe at the same time.
“He seems very social, but these are the people who end up in the dock as the most dangerous criminals. And also this look, cold and with a grin, saying, “I’m still smarter and stronger than you, stupid. I am a wolf, and you are a sheep. You can't figure me out." Although, he looks more like a cop than a killer. OK. Let him give me the number. At least I can look at this house, and I don’t necessarily like it.”
Kastrup greeted passengers with European style and long, exhausting corridors.
Luckily, Glenda was flying business class and she and her new acquaintance were taken in a minivan straight to the luggage compartment.
– Well, I was glad to meet you. I hope you will call my friend and consider this lucrative offer. – the northern accent betrayed a true Dane, although he spoke good English. Iver held out a piece of paper and, as if involuntarily, touched Glenda’s hand.
– Me too. Thank you. And how much is he asking for the house? – she did not allow herself to pay attention to this sly gesture.
– It seems like a hundred thousand euros. I can’t afford such a house, but I think it’s just right for you.
– Why do you think so? Didn't we fly business class together?
– Well, I flew for work, the bosses paid all the expenses. And you are going to move for a personal matter, therefore the wind is not blowing in your pocket.
“The wind isn’t blowing in your pocket? What kind of stupid phrase is this? What a boor. It's time for me to leave, I started chatting a lot with this stranger. Although if you think about it, the apartment is really inexpensive. A truly attractive offer."
Glenda smiled tightly, but her gaze remained hawk-like. Distrust oozed from her entire nature.
– Well, all the best, miss. Take care of yourself. – Patting the taxi cab, Iver sent Glenda on her way. Like a husband or father, or just a doorman, putting heavy bags in the trunk, he agreed with the taxi driver about the safety of the passenger right up to the hotel.
She saw him off in expressive silence, smiling as much as she could. This happens when you suspect someone, but don’t want to show it.
“Very strange guy. And what do I like about it? It’s like being so familiar, but at the same time dangerous.”
The unpleasant Danish language with a rough pronunciation now seemed very nice against the backdrop of all this splendor: European houses and streets, cyclists everywhere, men and women with naturally white hair and blue eyes like angels. The taxi driver was talking to the dispatcher, the radio was squealing incessantly, and Glenda was humming a new mantra to herself: “I’m starting my life again, Copenhagen is my love. I’m starting my life again, Copenhagen is my love…”
The Petri Hotel on Crystalgade turned out to be not far from the street where she was going to go today to look at a house, beautiful, expensive, and in status
