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Authors: Henning Mankell

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BOOK: The Journey to the End of the World (Joel Gustafson Stories)

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‘Were you going to hit me?’

‘Yes,’ said Joel. ‘Just like you were going to hit Jenny.’

Samuel grabbed hold of Joel’s arm.

‘We’re going back to the hotel now!’ he roared. ‘And when I’ve been to the hospital we’ll take the next train home.’

Joel was completely calm.

‘I’m not going with you.’

‘You mean you’re going to stay here in Stockholm?’

‘I’ve been to the Seamen’s Employment Exchange. I’m going to sign on with a ship. I can’t wait for you any longer.’

Samuel was silent for a while.

‘Hmm,’ he said eventually. ‘Hmm, so that’s what you’ve done, is it?’

‘It’s not too late for you to do the same.’

Samuel looked thoughtfully at him.

‘Maybe not. Maybe not.’

They started walking back to the hotel.

Samuel suddenly stopped dead.

‘I don’t regret it,’ he said. ‘I don’t regret saying what I did to Jenny. You have to understand that. What she did to us is something I can’t forgive her for. You don’t necessarily have to see it the same way. Do you see what I mean?’

‘No,’ said Joel. ‘But just now I couldn’t give a toss.’

As they approached the hotel, Samuel stopped outside abar.

‘A Pilsner would be just the thing right now,’ he said.

‘No,’ said Joel. ‘It wouldn’t be just the thing at all. Besides, you have to go to the hospital tomorrow without having had anything to eat or drink.’

‘I don’t think a Pilsner would do any harm.’

‘We’regoing back to the hotel,’ said Joel. ‘No Pilsner.’

They got up early next day. Joel went to the café for breakfast and Samuel took a bus to the hospital. Joel had money from Samuel to pay the photographer, but it would be several hours before the studio opened. Meanwhile he wandered around the streets, wondering if he dared to phone Jenny. Or should he simply write her a letter?

Samuel is an idiot. Greetings, Joel.

He found it hard to make up his mind.

He suddenly noticed the girl who had asked him for a cigarette the previous day. She was sitting on a bench, by herself, reading a magazine. Joel went to a kiosk and bought four loose cigarettes. Then he approached the bench.

‘It took a little while,’ he said, ‘so you can have four to make up for the delay.’

The girl didn’t recognise him at first. Then she burst out laughing.

‘You’re mad!’ she said.

She put the cigarettes in her pocket.

Then she stood up and walked away. Without even saying thank you.

Joel was disappointed. Despite the fact that he didn’t really know what he’d expected, or hoped for.

He thought of Sonja Mattsson, who had been naked underneath a transparent net curtain.

Things will be better once I go to sea, he thought. Then there’ll be no stopping me.

He went to the photography studio and had his pictures taken. Then he looked up the address of the sailors’ doctor.

The waiting room was packed.

It occurred to Joel that in away, both he and Samuel were in their respective hospitals.

And Jenny was working in a third.

He eventually got to see the doctor, who instructed Joel to take down his trousers. He then felt around Joel’s groin and pronounced him fit. He was issued with a certificate, which he took to the Seamen’s Employment Exchange.

They told him he should call back after a couple of days and collect his seaman’s discharge book.

He was just about to leave when he heard a voice behind him say:

‘
Karmas
requires a steward and an engine room assistant.’

Two men stood up and went to a hatch in the wall.

It’s my turn next, Joel thought.

The problem was what Samuel intended to do. Had he been serious? Was he really considering going to sea again? You never knew with Samuel. He could change his mind whenever it suited him.

But it was possible. Maybe he really had decided he’d had enough of wandering through the forests with an axe and a saw in his hand.

In that case, what would they do with the house by the river? And all the furniture? Joel decided he couldn’t face waiting any longer. Samuel would have to follow on later.

Joel wandered around town for a few more hours. He paused twice to buy and eat a hot dog.

Then he went back to the hotel.

No sign of Samuel yet.

But when he collected his key, the bald man gave him an envelope.

It was a letter. From Jenny Rydén.

The letter was short and handwritten.

Joel sat on the steps outside the hotel and read what she had written.

My dear son,

When Samuel started shouting and yelling at me in the square, it dawned on me why I’d really left all those years ago. Without saying anything.

I couldn’t say anything to you. You were too small. You wouldn’t have understood.

I don’t want to see Samuel ever again. But you have to understand that it wasn’t easy, living with him.

I just hop you and me can continue to see each other.

I’d like that.

Jenny

Joel read the letter again.

Jenny had spelt a word wrongly. ‘Hop.’ She really meant ‘hope’.

Then he realised that there was something in the letter he could understand fully. That it wasn’t easy to live with Samuel. He’d discovered that for himself.

And how had it been for Sara? The waitress in the bar back home who hadn’t been able to put up with him either?

I expect it’s all to do with the fact that he shaves so carelessly, Joel thought. If you’re slapdash with that, you’re slapdash with other things as well.

He felt his cheeks. Only down so far. But he was quite certain that he would never shave carelessly. He’d prefer to grow a beard.

Joel wondered what to do. Should he show Samuel the letter? Or should he do what Samuel had done with the letter from Elinor? Show that it existed, but not say what was in it?

He went back into the hotel. He’d noticed that there was headed paper in one of the desk drawers. And Samuel had a pen. He’d be able to write a reply to Jenny on the spot.

‘I hope it was good news,’ said the bald man behind the desk. Every time he saw Joel he became more friendly.

‘It couldn’t have been better,’ Joel said.

He sat down at the desk with the paper in front of him, pen in hand. He didn’t really want to use Samuel’s pen when he wrote to Jenny, but he didn’t have any other.

What should he write?

He read Jenny’s letter once again. He could hear her voice. What had Samuel shouted at her? That she was a shit heap.

Was that something you could really say to a woman? Samuel must be a boor. Had he really been planning that for over ten years? To tell Mummy Jenny that she was a shit heap?

Joel decided once and for all that Samuel was incomprehensible. He had an incomprehensible dad. A person nobody could understand. A boor.

He was worried that he might have inherited that boorish character. That there might be aspects of it inside himself. Only seeds so far, but seeds that might sprout and grow as he grew older. Might he one day go around calling women things he shouldn’t?

He knew now what he was going to write. And he would be very careful to avoid any spelling mistakes.

When he’d finished writing, he read it through.

To Jenny Rydén,

I’d like you to know that I’m not as boorish as my father, Samuel Gustafson. I never bellow. I’d love to see you again.

Greetings from Joel Gustafson

That would have to do. He hadn’t made any spelling mistakes. He folded the sheet of paper and put it in an envelope, which he sealed.

He was able to buy a stamp in reception. He’d noticed a postbox in the street not far from the hotel. He went there and posted the letter.

So that was that done.

When Samuel came back from the hospital, Joel had just been out for a meal. He’d gone to a different café, but the food tasted exactly the same. He was looking at the picture of the woman leaning against a tree, and thinking about Sonja Mattsson, when the door opened.

Samuel was wearing a hat.

A grey hat with a light blue band.

Joel stared at him. The hat was drooping down a long way below Samuel’s ears.

‘Wherever did you find that?’ he asked.

‘Find?’ said Samuel. ‘I bought it. And it was far too dear. But I thought I had a right to treat myself to something for once.’

‘And so you bought a hat?’

Samuel examined himself in the mirror.

‘Isn’t it elegant?’

‘It’s elegant. But what are you going to do with it?’

‘I’m going to wear it.’

‘Out in the forest?’

‘When I’m in my best clothes. On Sundays.’

Joel sighed. It was just as both Jenny Rydén and he himself had established: Samuel was a totally incomprehensible person. He never got dressed up on Sundays. He never went for walks. The hat would end up on a shelf in the wardrobe. And it would stay there.

Joel changed the subject.

‘What did they have to say, at the hospital?’

‘They’ll be getting in touch. By letter. So we can go home now.’

Samuel walked past Joel and sat down on the chair.

Joel noticed immediately that Samuel smelled of Pilsner. That meant that he hadn’t been at the hospital all day. But his eyes were not shiny. So he wasn’t drunk.

‘Have you eaten?’ Samuel asked.

‘Yes. Have you?’

‘No. But I’m not hungry.’

That’s not true, Joel thought. Samuel tells lies just as badly as he shaves himself. He’s eaten already, and he’s been drinking beer. And no doubt bought rounds for lots of old men he’s never seen before. I expect he also told them he was a sailor. On shore leave.

‘Have you any money left?’ Joel asked.

He was starting to wonder if they’d be able to pay for the hotel room if they stayed for two more nights.

‘I have enough for us to get by on,’ said Samuel. ‘And we’ll be going home tomorrow anyway.’

Joel could see that there was no point in waiting any longer. He’d have to speak to Samuel. It was a case of now or never.

‘When are we going to look at the boats?’

‘We can do that tomorrow. Before we set off home.’

He doesn’t want to, Joel thought. All that talk about me having to finish school first, and then we could move and Samuel could become a sailor again.

All talk. Nothing but talk.

Joel took a deep breath and braced himself.

‘I’m not going with you,’ he said. ‘I’ll be collecting my seaman’s discharge book a couple of days from now. Then I’m off to sea. I can’t wait for you any longer.’

Samuel stared long and hard at him. It slowly dawned on him that Joel was serious.

He said nothing. He seemed to be retreating into himself.

‘That’s a bit of a shock,’ he said eventually.

‘Why? It’s what I’ve been dreaming about for ages. And I thought we were going to go to sea together.’

‘I have to wait for the letter from the hospital.’

Lucky for him that there’s something he has to wait for, Joel thought. But even if there hadn’t been, he’d have thought up something. Any excuse at all to delay matters.

Then Samuel seemed to get a second wind.

‘This is what we’ll do,’ he said. ‘We’ll go back home tomorrow, and then we can plan everything calmly and carefully. I’ll resign from the logging company. And then we’ll go to Gothenburg. There’s more boats to choose from there. Stockholm’s nothing. It’s not a good idea to sign up for the first boat you clap eyes on. Then we’ll start our travels. Best would be a boat heading for South America. They are good boats. Good boats and good ports. And you have to be careful which shipping line you choose. That’s the way it is. There are good boats and there are bad boats. I think that’s what we’ll do.’

Joel listened. He’d sat down on his bed.

He felt sorry for Samuel. Because all he said was just words. Words that would never lead to anywhere, least of all up a gangway.

Samuel didn’t want to go back to sea. Or didn’t dare. Or didn’t have the strength. Or perhaps it was a combination of all three.

BOOK: The Journey to the End of the World (Joel Gustafson Stories)

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