He stamps hard as he tramps up the stairs. The sound
echoes from wall to wall and he knows that Mrs
Westman won't like the noise, but at least being able to
hear his footsteps proves that he still exists.
He lights the stove and watches the flames licking the
wood. He sticks a finger inside and tests how long he
can keep it there without getting burnt.
Then he decides to search Samuel's room. The photographs
must be there somewhere. Now he will find them.
Samuel's room has a bed and a chair. A table with
the radio on it and a bookcase full of books. His clothes
are hanging in a wardrobe. Nothing else in there. Joel
looks round and asks himself where he would hide
some photographs. But he knows that strangely
enough, adults don't think like children. They often
find worse hiding places.
He starts by looking in bad hiding places. Under the
pillow, between the bookcase and the wall, under the
carpet. Nothing there. He shakes all the books, but no
photographs drop out. Then he searches through the
table drawer where Samuel keeps his penknife with the
mother-of-pearl handle among lots of papers, and his
sailor's record book. No photographs there either.
So Samuel hasn't chosen a bad hiding place. He has
to think again.
Good hiding places are places you don't think of as
hiding places. Places you don't see, don't even notice
that they exist. A good hiding place could be underneath
a newspaper.
He lifts up the newspaper but there's only dust
underneath.
Another good hiding place could be underneath the
embroidered table mat Samuel was given by Mrs
Westman.
He lifts up the cloth. There are the photographs. But
not only the photographs: also a letter. He takes the
photos and the letter to the window seat in the hall where
he can keep an eye on the street and see Samuel coming
in good time.
He examines the photos carefully, but he doesn't
think he looks all that much like his mother. He fetches
Samuel's shaving mirror from the bathroom and holds
it so that he can see Jenny's face and his own at the
same time.
Perhaps there is a bit of a likeness after all? He tries
to pose in the same way as his mother. Moves his lips
backwards and forwards, raises an eyebrow, blows out
his cheeks a little. In the end he thinks he has adjusted
his face to ape his mother's. Now he can see that there
is a likeness. Not a lot, but it is there.
Then he remembers that he hasn't been keeping an
eye on the street. Two small children run past, a bus
signals that it's turning left. But there's no sign of
Samuel trudging home from the forest. He puts the
photographs on the window ledge and looks at the letter.
He sees that it is postmarked in Gothenburg. November
19. But he can't make out the year.
He takes the letter out of its envelope. It's folded in
two and written in ink on both sides.
To his surprise he sees that it is written by Samuel.
'Your ever-loving Samuel', it says at the bottom of page
two. He examines the envelope.
'To Samuel Gustafson, The Seafarer Guest House,
Gothenburg.'
Does he write letters to himself? Joel wonders.
He looks out over the street. It's snowing heavily
now, big chunky flakes. The errand boy from the
sawmill is going past, carrying a parcel. Joel notices that
he keeps changing hands. It must be heavy.
He reads what Samuel has written.
It's a letter to Joel's mother.
He writes that this very day he has signed on with the
SS
Vassijaure
that has been in the shipyard to have its
propeller shaft changed. Tomorrow they will sail for
Narvik and pick up a cargo of iron ore for taking to
Newport News. He doesn't know the next port of call
but he hopes it will be somewhere in Sweden so that he
can take a few days' leave and visit her in Motala. Then
he tells her that he has backache but expects it will soon
pass, and that somebody he knows called Lundström has
signed on for the same ship. He asks if Jenny remembers
Lundström. He had a long beard and used to play the
concertina. He tells her how much he misses her, and
that she must stay faithful to him. . .
Joel reads the letter one more time, after checking to
make sure Samuel isn't approaching the house.
There is a lot in the letter that gives him food for thought.
The most important thing is Motala. He fetches his
diary, which contains a map of Sweden, and locates the
town. It's almost in the very middle of the country.
Perhaps that's where his mother returned to when
she left?
But why is the letter in the wrong envelope?
Why does Samuel have a letter that she ought to
have had?
Perhaps Simon Windstorm has some kind of potion
that enables you to see into the past, Joel thinks. He
could do with something of the sort.
He notices that the fire in the stove has gone out. He
hurries to replace the letter and photographs, and puts
the shaving mirror back in the bathroom.
As he is relighting the fire he realises that he can
almost remember the contents of the letter by heart.
SS
Vassijaure
, The Seafarer Guest House, Motala . . .
He lays the table while the potatoes are boiling. He sees
through the window that the snow is falling thicker than
ever. It's starting to get dark. He goes to the window seat
again and waits. Black figures pass by through the snow.
And there comes Samuel.
Joel can tell from the way he's walking that he's in a
good mood.
He jumps down from the window seat and goes to his
room. He doesn't want Samuel to see that he's been
looking out for him. He rummages under his bed and
produces his tin soldiers, covered in dust.
Then Samuel appears in the doorway. He laughs and
brandishes a piece of meat in his hand.
'We'll be eating well tonight,' he says. Then he
lowers his voice.
'Elk steak. But don't tell anybody. It's not allowed at
this time of year. But it's good!'
Joel sits on the kitchen bench and watches Samuel
turning the meat in the frying pan.
It's not easy to understand grown-ups. Sometimes
they stand over you and want to know everything, but
just as often they don't want to know anything at all.
Joel likes elk meat. It has a very special taste. Besides,
you can eat as much lingonberry jam with it as you
want. When there is elk meat on the table Samuel never
bothers to frown if Joel takes too much jam.
They eat in silence. Samuel rarely speaks at the dinner
table. He just eats. Joel knows that the best time to ask
something is when they've just finished eating, before
Samuel has fetched the newspaper he has in his overcoat
pocket and lies down on the kitchen bench or sits down
on his chair and starts reading.
The trick is to have your question ready when Samuel
pushes his plate to one side and wipes his mouth.
'I dreamt about my mother last night,' he says when
Samuel puts down his knife and fork.
'Really?' he says. 'What did you dream?'
'I can't remember,' says Joel. 'But I know it was her
I dreamt about.'
'It would be just like her to start haunting you in your
dreams,' says Samuel, and now he sounds annoyed.
'Why?' asks Samuel.
'You shouldn't think so much about your mother,'
says Samuel. 'I understand that it's not so easy for you
not to have a mum, but she was no good. She wasn't the
person I thought she was.'
'What was she like, then?' asks Joel.
Samuel looks long and hard at him.
'We can talk about that when you're a bit bigger,' he
says, getting up from the table.
'How much bigger?' wonders Joel.
Samuel doesn't answer but goes to fetch his newspaper.
When he comes back he pauses and looks at Joel.
'No doubt you think your mother was a wonderful
person,' he says. 'I don't want to disappoint you. We can
talk about her when you're a bit bigger.'
Then he goes to his room leaving Joel on his own at
the table.
'Disappoint you', he thinks.
What does Samuel – the man he no longer calls father
– know about Joel's disappointments?
Nothing . . .
If he goes to Sara again tonight, I shall run away, he
thinks.
He stays in his room all evening. He moves his tin
soldiers back and forth without paying any attention to
what he's doing.
He wonders if Ture will be able to help him scare
Sara off.
It's hardly going to be possible to scare Samuel. How
can you scare somebody who doesn't understand anything?
If he knew what Joel was thinking, he wouldn't
bother about Sara of course . . . It occurs to him that there
might be another possibility.
What if he were to go and see Sara himself? Go to the
bar and tell her to leave Samuel alone. Tell her that he
was the one who threw that stone, and that he doesn't
want any sisters with red hats.
Maybe she would understand that it was important.
After all, she had a boy herself who was killed in a fire.
He goes to bed and thinks that might be the best
solution. He'll go to the bar and talk to Sara.
Suddenly Samuel appears in the doorway.
He comes to sit on Joel's bed. He smiles, but it seems
to Joel that the smile isn't anything to do with him, but
because Samuel is thinking about Sara.
'Would you like to hear a sea story?' asks Samuel.
Joel would really, but he forces himself to say no.
'I'm nearly asleep already,' he says.
'Sleep well, then,' says Samuel. 'Maybe tomorrow. . . '
Joel wraps the alarm clock in a sock and places it
under his pillow. He wishes he didn't have to get up
tonight. If he doesn't turn up at school tomorrow Miss
Nederström will start wondering what's going on.
Best of all would be to sleep right through until
summer. Wake up and know that it was the summer
holidays and that Sara had moved to somewhere a long
way away. If only it were possible just once to wish for
something it was impossible to wish for . . .
Even so he is happy when the alarm goes off and he
wakes up. The first thing he hears is Samuel snoring
next door. So he hasn't gone to see Sara tonight.
Perhaps that stone through the window was enough,
he thinks. Perhaps Samuel will never go there again?
Now he no longer feels tired.
Perhaps everything can be just like it used to be?
He gets dressed, goes downstairs and out into the night.
It's not as cold as it has been, so it doesn't hurt when
he breathes.
Spring is on its way, he thinks. First comes spring,
and then the summer holidays . . .
Ture is waiting for him by the goods wagons. He has
a spade with him, and a paper sack.
The ant hill, thinks Joel. He'd forgotten about that.
But why does Ture want Joel to show him an ant hill?
Next to the sawmill there's a clump of trees with lots
of ant hills. Maybe the snow isn't so deep there.
Joel takes the paper sack and they hurry off. As usual
everything is quiet and deserted.
As they pass the church they see the rear lights of The
Old Bricklayer's lorry as it turns into Hedevägen.
Next to the roots of a fallen tree they find an ant hill
with not much snow covering it.
Ture has brought a torch so that they can pick their way
through the trees. Joel thinks that he wouldn't have dared
come here by himself, even if he'd had a torch. The trees
are too tall, the loneliness is too oppressive away from the
streetlights.
'Hold the torch,' whispers Ture.
Then he starts digging at the bottom of the ant hill. It
takes him a long time to hack his way through the frozen
soil, the pine needles and the hibernating ants.
Joel holds the sack open so that Ture can fill it with
the pulverised soil. Then they change places and Joel
has a go at digging.
What's he going to do with all this? Joel wonders as
he hacks away at the frozen soil and tree roots. Why
does he want sleeping ants and frozen soil?
When the torch batteries start to wear out, they pack
up and leave.
On the other side of the bridge Joel turns off and takes
a road that meanders past silent houses.
Eventually he stops and points.
This is where Gertrud lives.
It's a little yellow wooden house all on its own at the
end of the road. In the garden are currant bushes and a
potato patch.
Ture stands the spade in a snowdrift.
The house is in darkness.
'Does she have a dog?' whispers Ture.
Joel shakes his head. 'Not that I know of.'
'Wait here,' says Ture and slinks in through the gate,
which isn't properly closed. He vanishes into the
darkness.
Joel suddenly starts feeling uneasy.
What is Ture going to do?
After a few minutes Ture reappears. He looks pleased
with himself. He gestures to Joel to bring the sack and
follow him.
At the back of the house there is a window standing
ajar. Ture has put a crate underneath it that they can
stand on. Ture carefully opens the window wide.
'Pass me the sack,' he whispers.
There is a table just inside the window.
Ture tips the frozen soil and the sleeping ants onto the
table. When the sack is empty he carefully closes the
window again.
'There we go,' he says.
He puts the crate back where it was, then they hurry
back over the railway bridge.
Ture laughs.
'By the time she wakes up tomorrow the ants will
have thawed out,' he says. 'The whole house will be
crawling with ants.'
Joel laughs as well.
In fact he's not at all sure that he likes this. It's one
thing throwing a stone through Sara's window. He
knows why he did that. But tipping ants through No-Nose's window? Why?
To create fear, Ture has said.
But why create fear in No-Nose?