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Authors: Henning Mankell

The Journey to the End of the World (Joel Gustafson Stories) (5 page)

BOOK: The Journey to the End of the World (Joel Gustafson Stories)
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Joel looked at Samuel. Grown-ups were strange. How could Samuel sleep so peacefully? He must be just as nervous as Joel. But he was asleep. Fast asleep, with his hands clasped on his chest.
Or was he lying there and saying a prayer?
Dear God, please make Jenny glad to see me again. And Joel. Amen.
Joel sat down by the window once more. The train was shuddering its way round a long bend. He could just make out a lake behind the trees. His face was reflected in the window. His hair was short. Almost a crew cut. But the quiff immediately above his forehead made that part of his hair stand on end. It always did that. No matter how much water he used in an attempt to make it lie down.
Maybe Mummy Jenny would think he was ugly?
I know nothing, Joel thought. That’s the worst thing of all. Not knowing anything.
He lay down on the seat again. The train was shaking and lurching. He tried to count the gaps between the joinings of the rails.
Then he fell asleep.
Joel woke up when the train came to a halt. When he opened his eyes he knew immediately where he was. But when he looked at the seat opposite, he saw that Samuel was no longer there. He sat up. There wasn’t a sound. He opened the door and looked out into the corridor. And saw Samuel, who had opened a window. He smiled when he saw Joel.
‘Did I wake you up?’
‘Why has the train stopped?’
Joel was so sleepy that he could hardly keep his eyes open.
‘Maybe we have to wait for an oncoming train to pass. Or there might be a signal at red.’
‘Where are we? What’s the time?’
‘We’ll be in Orsa an hour or so from now.’
‘Hasn’t the forest finished yet?’
Samuel laughed.
‘Nearly,’ he said. ‘The forest’s about to come to an end. For now.’
‘Is that why you’re standing here? To take a last look at the trees?’
‘Could be.’
Joel had the impression that Samuel wanted to be left alone. Perhaps he was thinking about Jenny?
‘I’m off to lie down again,’ he said.
Joel fell asleep the moment he lay down.
When he woke up it was broad daylight. The sun was shining. Samuel was sitting by the window, drinking coffee. Joel sat up like a shot, as if he had to go to school but had overslept.
‘Have we come to Orsa yet?’ he asked.
‘We’ve passed there. And Mora as well.’
Joel looked out of the window. The countryside was completely different. He could hardly believe his eyes. An enormous lake stretched out in front of him, whichever way he looked.
‘Lake Siljan is beautiful,’ said Samuel. ‘It almost makes you think you’re at sea.’
‘That’s what I keep saying,’ said Joel. ‘Why do you hang about in the forest when you really want to be at sea?’
Samuel shook his head slowly, but he didn’t say anything. Joel went out into the corridor to pour himself a beaker of water.
Then they had breakfast. The train stopped at Rättvik, and an elderly couple came to sit in their compartment. Samuel moved his suitcase. The man and woman chatted away. They sounded quite different from the people back home in the little town. Joel very nearly burst out laughing. Samuel noticed, and gave him a stern look.
They got off in Krylbo and changed trains. It was a very large station. Samuel was worried about boarding the wrong train. He asked three different porters if they were on the right platform. When the train arrived, it was difficult to find any empty seats. They eventually found two, and Joel sat next to the door. He was annoyed when Samuel tried to talk to him. He didn’t like Samuel talking to him when others could hear. He pretended to be asleep, and quickly fell asleep in fact.
Some of the others in the compartment got off in Sala. Samuel and Joel ate the rest of their food.
‘Only four more hours to go now,’ said Samuel. ‘Then we’ll be there.’
They were the longest four hours of Joel’s life. He tried to will the train to go faster. But at the same time, he tried to make it go slower. He both wanted to get there, and not to get there.
But they eventually arrived in Stockholm. All the other passengers left the train. It was all hustle and bustle and noise on the platform. Samuel and Joel were sitting opposite each other. Each of them was clinging on to his suitcase or rucksack. The cardboard box containing the
Celestine
was on the shelf in front of the window.
Samuel suddenly looked small and unsure of himself.
He’s regretting it now, Joel thought angrily. What he really wants to do is to keep sitting where he is and hope that they’ll attach a new engine to the other end of the train, so that he can go back home. To his confounded trees.
‘We’d better get off now,’ Joel said. ‘Otherwise it’ll set off again, and goodness only knows where we’ll end up.’
Samuel nodded.
‘I suppose we should,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to find somewhere to stay.’
Samuel had often told Joel about his visits to Stockholm, but now he was acting as if this was the first time he’d ever been there. When they came to the big station concourse, Samuel had no idea which way to go. Joel had become so hot and bothered by the masses of people that he started shouting and tugging at Samuel’s overcoat. There was so much to see, so much to hear.
Samuel pointed at a bench.
‘Let’s sit down,’ he said. ‘There are so many people rushing around, you can’t see where you’re going.’
They sat down. Samuel was still holding tightly on to his suitcase.
Joel started to get annoyed. Or was he afraid, perhaps? Because Samuel seemed to have no control over the situation.
‘Where are we going to go?’ he asked.
Samuel pulled a face.
‘There are some cheap hotels near the station.’
Joel felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. It was as if he were seeing Samuel, his father, for the first time. Small and with drooping shoulders. Wearing old, worn-out clothes. Despite the fact that they were the best he had. And then that accursed suitcase. With the broken handle.
He’d never felt like this before. Not even when Samuel had been drunk and Joel had to drag him home.
But now it happened. Joel was ashamed of him.
He was ashamed of having a father like Samuel.
‘Where are those bloody hotels, then?’ he snarled.
Samuel looked at him in surprise.
‘Yes, I swore,’ said Joel. ‘I’ll swear as much as I like.’
Samuel seemed to notice that his son was angry. He seemed to shrink even more.
‘Maybe we can help each other to find our way,’ he said tentatively.
Joel was still upset.
‘I’ve never been to Stockholm before. How should I know where the exit is?’
Samuel didn’t answer. He looked round hesitantly, and then he suddenly seemed to make up his mind. Joel could see it coming. Samuel straightened his back with a little jerk, as if it was fitted with a clockwork mechanism that somebody had just wound up.
‘Anyway, I need a pee,’ he said, gesturing towards a notice that said ‘Toilets’. ‘You can keep an eye on my suitcase while I’m gone.’
Samuel stood up and walked away. Joel watched him. Noticed how he kept stopping to let people in a hurry pass by him. Joel pulled the suitcase towards him and put his hand over the broken handle. He was still ashamed. Had anybody seen him? Sitting there covering up the broken suitcase handle with his hand? Joel tried to look relaxed, but it was as if he was surrounded by a halo of light announcing that he didn’t belong here.
Samuel seemed to be away for a long time. Joel became more and more irritated. He wondered if he ought to go away and leave the suitcase to look after itself. In order to punish Samuel. But what exactly was it that Joel wanted to punish him for?
Thoughts were buzzing round and round inside his head. At the same time he was trying to take in everything that was happening all around him. A voice blared out from a loudspeaker, and there was a wheezing and screeching from a locomotive somewhere.
Somebody sat down beside him on the bench. It was a boy not much older than Joel. But he was wearing a suit, and a tie, and shiny black shoes. And his hair was not cut short. His hair was combed and gelled to form stiff black waves.
The Black Wave
, Joel thought. He shuffled slightly away from the boy. I hope he doesn’t say anything.
But he did, of course.
‘Hi!’ said The Black Wave.
‘Er, hello,’ said Joel.
The Black Wave eyed him curiously. Joel glanced towards the toilets. What he wanted least of all just now was for Samuel to come back.
Only a few seconds ago it would have been too late. Now, it had suddenly become too soon.
‘Are you going off somewhere?’ asked The Black Wave, running his hand over his hair.
‘I’ve just arrived,’ Joel mumbled.
The Black Wave didn’t say anything. He just kept on eyeing Joel. Then he produced a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket.
‘Do you smoke?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Joel.
And immediately asked himself why. It wouldn’t have done any harm to accept a cigarette.
The Black Wave lit one and blew a smoke ring.
‘Where have you come from?’ he asked.
‘From up north,’ said Joel.
‘I can hear that,’ said The Black Wave. ‘I can hear that very clearly. “From up north”.’ He imitated Joel’s pronunciation, and burst out laughing. Not nastily. It sounded most like a smoker’s cough.
‘Are you waiting for somebody?’ asked The Black Wave.
‘I’m waiting for my dad,’ said Joel.
‘Where’s he gone?’
‘He’s in the toilet.’
‘So your old man’s in the john, is he?’ said The Black Wave. ‘Maybe he’s nipped in there for a crafty drop of booze.’
Joel gave a start. How could this boy know that Joel’s father sometimes drank too much? And could it be true? Was Samuel in there drinking?
‘I’ll go and fetch him now,’ said Joel. ‘We’re in a bit of a hurry.’
‘I’ll bet you are,’ said The Black Wave. ‘Go on then, I’ll look after your things for you.’
Joel was just going to let go of the suitcase handle when he remembered that it was broken. He didn’t want The Black Wave to see that.
‘I expect the old man will want his suitcase,’ he said. ‘But you can keep an eye on my rucksack.’
The Black Wave smiled. It seemed to Joel that his luck was in – he’d met somebody who’d offered him a cigarette and was prepared to keep an eye on his rucksack for him. Now he only had two things to carry: Samuel’s suitcase and the box with the
Celestine
.
‘I won’t be a minute,’ said Joel, getting to his feet.
When Joel entered the toilets, he stopped short, looking around in confusion. There were two rows of cubicles. Most of the doors were closed. He had no idea which one Samuel was in. It seemed to him that he might just as well leave, and wait for Samuel to come when he was ready. But there again, he ought to tell Samuel that The Black Wave was sitting out there in the concourse, looking after Joel’s rucksack.
Joel waited. Doors opened. He suddenly started to wonder how much crap was flushed down all those lavatories in a single day. The thought made him want to burst out laughing.
An attendant eyed him up and down, suspiciously.
‘Are you waiting for somebody?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Joel. ‘My dad.’
At that very moment the door of the cubicle furthest away opened, and Samuel emerged. He didn’t see Joel standing there. He went to the sink and washed his hands. He looked tired. Then he turned round and caught sight of Joel.
‘Where’s your rucksack?’ he asked.
‘Out there. Somebody’s looking after it.’
Samuel frowned.
‘Who?’
It occurred to Joel that he didn’t know The Black Wave’s name.
‘You don’t always have to know what people are called,’ he said angrily. ‘He volunteered to keep an eye on my rucksack while I went to look for you.’
‘I was a bit constipated,’ said Samuel. ‘That happens sometimes.’
Then he looked sternly at Joel.
‘Are you telling me that you’ve left your rucksack with somebody you don’t know?’
Joel could see that Samuel’s worry was genuine. That made him feel a bit worried as well.
They left the toilets.
The bench was empty. There was no sign of The Black Wave or the rucksack.
Samuel looked at Joel.
‘Where’s your rucksack, then?’
BOOK: The Journey to the End of the World (Joel Gustafson Stories)
5.28Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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