Her mother gave up the struggle and looked helplessly at the package. It was not
one of her better days. Salander pushed across the scissors that had been in plain
sight on the table and her mother suddenly seemed to wake up.
“You must think I’m stupid.”
“No, Mum. You’re not stupid. But life is unfair.”
“Have you seen your sister?”
“Not in a long time.”
“She never comes.”
“I know, Mum. She doesn’t see me either.”
“Are you working?”
“Yes. I’m doing fine.”
“Where do you live? I don’t even know where you live.”
“I live in your old apartment on Lundagatan. I’ve lived there for several years. I had
to take over the payments.”
“In the summertime maybe I can come and see you.”
“Of course. In the summertime.”
Her mother at last got the Christmas present open and sniffed at the aroma,
enchanted. “Thank you, Camilla,” she said.
“Lisbeth. I’m Lisbeth.”
Her mother looked embarrassed. Salander said that they should go to the TV room.
Blomkvist spent the hour of the Disney special on Christmas Eve with his daughter
Pernilla at the home of his ex-wife, Monica, and her new husband in Sollentuna.
After discussions with her mother they had agreed to give Pernilla an iPod, an MP3
player hardly bigger than a matchbox which could store her huge CD collection.