Box Act

continued from part 5 Part 6: Swapping with Sandy My fiancée – I still can’t get used to calling her that – my fiancée, Josephine, came into the study with that sly smile that she wears when she’s planning something. “What are you doing on Sunday Week?” she asked. I clicked up my diary and scrolled down ten days. “Here we are – May 6th, nothing. Why, what do you have in mind?” ...

continued from part 6 Part 7: Norwegian Wood Jo put down the phone and came in to the kitchen. I looked up at her and she spoke: “Old Eirik is dead.” “Erich?” I said. “He was at the club on Friday. He was fine. What happened?” “No, it’s not Erich, it’s Eirik. Ei-rik.” She pronounced each separate syllable distinctly. “Eirik Lumbermann is my, umm, was my grandfather, my mother’s father. He was a hundred and two last winter.” ...