When the Snow Fell

by Henning Mankell

  “I want five,” he said again.

  “You’ll get three,” said Joel. “Tomorrow.”

  “I want the money now.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Now.”

  Joel pretended to think it over.

  “Tomorrow,” he said again.

  “Now.”

  It was crunch time.

  “Give me the catalog. I’ll give you three kronor.”

  “Now.”

  “Yes. Now.”

  Otto handed over the catalog. Joel handed over the three coins. The duel was over. Joel had defeated his opponent. He could put his invisible pistol back into its holster.

  “It’ll probably take quite a while,” said Joel. “I’ll return the catalog at school tomorrow.”

  Otto became suspicious again.

  “You’re not thinking of selling to anybody else as well, I hope?”

  “No, only to my cousin.”

  “But you said she was the cousin of your father’s step-brother.”

  “That means she’s my cousin as well. Don’t you know anything?”

  Otto didn’t answer. That’s one way in which he and I are alike, Joel thought. Neither of us likes being wrong.

  Joel had got the catalog. Otto had put the money in his pocket.

  “There’s something fishy about this,” he said. “Why should you want to give me three kronor, just so that you can surprise your cousin?”

  “I got the money from my dad,” said Joel. “He’s the one who wants me to surprise her.”

  Joel knew that if you said something that wasn’t really true, it had to be nearly true. Otherwise nobody would believe anything you said.

  “I want the catalog back tomorrow morning,” said Otto. “And if you don’t sell her any magazines, I want three more kronor.”

  “I’ll sell some all right,” said Joel.

  Otto walked away. Joel breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d succeeded.

  He went in through the front door and up the stairs. When he came to her door, he ran his hand over his hair, making sure it was standing straight up. Joel had a crew cut, and it was important that his hair stand straight up. The only problem was that he had a cowlick right at the front, over his forehead. There, his hair spread out like a fan. Samuel didn’t have a cowlick like that, so he must have inherited it from his mum, Jenny.

  A fan over his forehead.

  There were a few moments in life when Joel was glad that Mummy Jenny had disappeared. There were a few things he’d like to give her a piece of his mind about.

  He was feeling nervous. He wondered if this Mattsson woman was another one like Gertrud, who could read his thoughts. What if, when she opened the door, she was wearing transparent veils with nothing on underneath? What would he do then? Pretend he hadn’t noticed? Go into her flat, ask her to leaf through the catalog and choose whatever magazines she wanted to order? Or would he do what Samuel used to say?

  “Soon you’ll be old enough to start taking the girls in your arms.”

  What did he mean by that? Should Joel lift her up?

  Samuel was never any good at explaining what he meant.

  It got even more difficult when Joel thought of what else Samuel used to say.

  “Make sure they don’t get pregnant. You’ll be arrested if they do.”

  Sometimes Joel had the feeling that he knew how it all happened. But deep down he had a nagging worry that he didn’t really know anything at all. Then he would be afraid that everybody else, and especially Otto, knew all about what he ought to know. But there were other times when he suspected that Otto knew just as little as he did. Otto was all talk. He still hadn’t grasped why human beings had two ears but only one tongue.

  It was because they should listen more and speak less.

  Joel kept on stroking away at his hair. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He would have to take a step out into the unknown. It was just too bad that, needless to say, he badly needed a pee.

  He rang the bell. There was no music to be heard from inside the flat this time.

  The door opened, and there she was before his very eyes.

  Salome Mattsson.

  But she was not covered in transparent veils. She was wearing long trousers and a striped blouse.

  “At least you’re punctual,” she said.

  She let him into the hall. Joel felt lost and didn’t know what to do next. Was it here in the hall that he was supposed to lift her up? Or should he ask her to put her veils on?

  “Take your boots off,” she said. “You’ll make a mess of my clean floor if you don’t.”

  Joel sat down on a little stool and started undoing his laces. When he took off his left boot he saw that he had a big hole in his woolen sock.

  I’d better leave, he thought. I can’t let her see me with holes in my socks.

  “What’s keeping you?” she shouted from inside the living room. “There’s a program I want to listen to on the radio starting soon.”

  Joel removed the other boot as fast as he could, and tried to fold the hole in his sock underneath his foot. When he walked he looked as if he were limping. He ran his hand one last time through his hair. Then he went into the living room. She was sitting in an armchair with her legs tucked underneath her, smoking. Joel could smell perfume, but not the one that Gertrud used. There wasn’t a lot of furniture in the flat. She gave him a smile. Not friendly, but not unfriendly either.

  “How long are you going to stand there looking like a fish out of water? Let me have the catalog while you’re wondering where to sit. What was your name again?”

  “Joel,” said Joel.

  “How’s Digby?”

  “He still has a high temperature, but his shoulder’s not so painful.”

  She looked at him in surprise.

  “I thought you said it was his knee that hurt?”

  “His knee and his shoulder as well,” said Joel quickly.

  She shook her head and started looking through the catalog. Joel sat down on the edge of a chair. He really did need to go for a pee now.

  She leafed through the catalog. Joel sat watching her. She certainly was very beautiful.

  Even before she’d got halfway through, he’d made up his mind that this was the woman he was going to marry.

  “Which one of these is really good?” she asked.

  Joel hadn’t even had time to open the catalog, never mind read it. He tried to think back to the year when he’d sold Christmas magazines.

  “Maybe The Girls’ Own Christmas Book,” he suggested tentatively.

  She snorted.

  “That’s for little kids.”

  Joel had nothing else to suggest. He waited, unable to take his eyes off her. Now he so needed a pee that he had to cross his legs and press as hard as he could.

  “You’ve got a hole in your sock,” she said out of the blue.

  Damn, Joel thought. She’s noticed.

  “You’d better tell your mum to mend it for you,” she said.

  “I will,” said Joel.

  She closed the catalog and yawned.

  “I’ll take a copy of The Family Christmas Magazine,” she said. “Klara can have it as a Christmas present.”

  Joel reached out to take the catalog, and produced a pencil.

  “So, I’ll have to make a note of the name,” he said.

  “Klara Ehnström.”

  Joel was confused.

  “If it’s you who’s placing the order, yours is the name I have to make a note of,” he said.

  “Sonja Mattsson,” she said. “Svensvallsvägen 19. Will that do?”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  So she wasn’t called Salome. But Sonja wasn’t all that different. It started with the same letter.

  Joel was feeling less nervous now. If only he didn’t need a pee so urgently.

  “Are you from Stockholm?” he asked.

  “I hope you can hear that from the way I speak,” she said.


  “Have you moved here, then?”

  “I needed to get away for a while. And the Ehnströms are relations of ours. But I don’t know how long I’ll stay here. It depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  She had lit another cigarette.

  “You’re a real Nosey Parker, aren’t you?”

  Joel blushed. He felt as if he was going to wet his pants at any moment. If he didn’t leave this very second, there could be a catastrophe.

  “I have to go now,” he said, standing up. “Do you like Elvis?”

  “Is there anybody who doesn’t?”

  “I’ve thought about becoming a rock idol,” said Joel. “I’ve just started practicing.”

  She burst out laughing. Joel couldn’t work out if it was malicious or not.

  “Then you’ll have to come and perform for me,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Joel. “When I’ve finished practicing.”

  Then he rushed out into the hall and started pulling on his boots. He couldn’t keep control of his bladder for much longer. She was standing in the doorway to the living room, watching him.

  As he was putting on his jacket, Joel noticed that one of his mittens was in danger of falling out of his pocket. That gave him an idea. She had withdrawn into the living room in order to stub out her cigarette. Joel took out the mitten and hid it behind some wooly hats lying on the shelf. Now he had an excuse to come back again. And when he did, he would make sure he didn’t need a pee.

  “Pass on greetings to Digby,” she said. “I hope he’s soon better.”

  “He will be, don’t worry,” said Joel.

  He opened the door. Then he turned round.

  “I’d like to learn how to speak with a Stockholm accent,” he said.

  “You wouldn’t be able to do that,” she said.

  “I can do anything,” said Joel. Then he closed the door and raced down the stairs with the catalog in his hand. He came out into the street and pressed himself close to the wall.

  There were times when having a pee was the most satisfactory thing in life.

  Then he headed for home. He was already looking forward to the next day. He noticed that he was bouncing like a ball again. It didn’t matter anymore that his boots were too small. He would buy some new ones. And when he went back Sonja Mattsson would be sitting in her armchair, smoking. When he sang and played for her the first time, she would start screaming and pulling at his clothes.

  He tried to think of the last time he’d been in such a good mood as this. But he couldn’t remember.

  He cleared the staircase in three almighty jumps, and barged in through the door. Samuel would be sitting there next to the wireless, and Joel would sit down beside him. He wouldn’t say a word about Sonja Mattsson. Nor would he mention the fact that he’d started toughening himself up and had decided to become a rock idol.

  All he wanted was for Samuel to see what a really happy person looked like.

  That was something he could do with, after a long, strenuous day out in the forest.

  But Joel stopped dead when he came to the kitchen.

  Samuel wasn’t at home.

  He felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Samuel was always at home, except on Wednesdays, when he stopped over at Sara’s.

  Samuel was always at home. Unless…

  Joel didn’t have the strength to follow that thought through.

  If Samuel wasn’t at home, he must be drinking. If he was drinking, he could turn up at any time of day or night.

  Joel shuddered at the thought. Surely Samuel hadn’t started drinking again? Everything had been going so well ever since he’d met Sara.

  His fear changed into anger. This simply couldn’t be the case, surely?

  He checked Samuel’s bedroom. Nobody asleep in the bed.

  What Joel wanted to do most of all was to cry. That confounded Samuel always spoiled everything when Joel was feeling happy.

  Joel put his wooly hat back on and trudged down the stairs. He paid no attention to all the creaking.

  He emerged into the empty streets and started looking for Samuel. It was like looking for a ship that had been stranded on a deserted beach. When Samuel had been drinking, he was like a shipwrecked sailor.

  Joel didn’t need to search for long. On the hill leading up to the station he saw a shadowy figure staggering to wards him. It was Samuel, who was barely capable of standing up.

  Joel ran towards him. He caught up with him underneath a streetlamp. Samuel’s eyes were bloodshot.

  He was drunk.

  But Joel noticed something else.

  Samuel was devastated.

  Something must have happened.

  “You’ve come to meet me, have you?” said Samuel, his voice slurred.

  “Yes,” said Joel. “Let’s go home now.”

  He supported Samuel and led him along the street.

  He had found his shipwrecked father.

  — ELEVEN —

  Joel made some coffee.

  He hated everything to do with strong drink, especially the Swedish version of spiced vodka, called brännvin. He had no need to make any New Year’s resolutions concerning brännvin: he would never start drinking it. It was enough to see what it did to Samuel.

  Joel used to find bottles hidden away all over the house, labeled “Absolutely pure brännvin.” He found them hidden in the firewood bin, and in the case of apples they had tucked away in the pantry, for eating in the winter. He’d even found a bottle once in the cupboard where they kept sheets and pillowcases.

  He’d read somewhere that the great Indian chieftain Geronimo used to call brännvin “firewater,” but Joel knew what it really was.

  Spirits turned Samuel into a shipwrecked sailor.

  The drink took the boat away from a sailor.

  And Samuel was and would always be a sailor, even though he worked in the forests nowadays, chopping down trees.

  Joel made the coffee very strong. He knew that would help to sober Samuel up. Meanwhile, Samuel was lolling about at the kitchen table. He must have fallen down in the street somewhere. One of his pants legs was wet and dirty. Joel didn’t want to ask where his dad had been. When Samuel was on a drinking spree he would go to the homes of other men in town who spent all their time being washed up like driftwood on a beach, like shipwrecked sailors.

  Joel still had a stomachache, but it felt better now that he’d found Samuel. His biggest fear was always that Samuel would fall into a snowdrift one of these days and doze off to sleep.

  Despite the amount of spirits that Samuel had drunk over the years, he had never learnt how to cope with it.

  Joel wanted to know what had happened. Why had Samuel started drinking just now? When he’d been keeping off the booze for so long?

  But first Samuel must drink his coffee. Joel poured out a cup and put it on the table in front of his father. He’d put three sugar lumps in it.

  Samuel’s eyes were very red. Joel sat down at the table opposite him. It was the spirits glowing red in Samuel’s eyes. The firewater had burnt, and all that was left of it was a glow deep down in Samuel’s eyes.

  “I’m very sorry about this,” said Samuel.

  “So am I,” said Joel testily.

  Samuel slurped at his coffee. He was holding the cup in both hands. Joel waited until he’d put it down again.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” said Samuel.

  Joel didn’t ask anymore. He knew that Samuel would tell him what had happened sooner or later. It might be soon, or it might take time. But sooner or later, when the spirits had begun to leave his body, he would say what was wrong.

  Meanwhile Joel sat at the table, daydreaming. He thought about Sonja Mattsson and the way she sat with her legs tucked underneath her. If he didn’t have Samuel to run around after and take responsibility for, he could move in with her. He would be able to practice there on the guitar he hoped to borrow from Simon Windstorm.
Her flat smelled of perfume, not of wet wool.

  “It’s Sara,” Samuel said all of a sudden.

  “What’s the matter with Sara?”

  “She doesn’t want to anymore.”

  Joel still didn’t understand what had happened. Samuel raised his head, which seemed to be attached very loosely to his body. Like a leaf clinging to a tree in autumn. A leaf that was about to fall off.

  “She met me when I came home from the forest,” said Samuel. “And she said she’d been thinking. And that it was probably best if we stopped seeing each other.”

  So she’s broken it off, Joel thought.

  That was the explanation. But he still didn’t understand. Samuel had always said how well they got on together. How they laughed a lot. And he spent the night with her once a week.

  “Didn’t she explain why?” Joel asked.

  Samuel shook his head. He’ll start crying in a minute, Joel thought.

  At that very moment Samuel burst out crying. It cut through Joel like a knife. This was the worst and the most difficult thing. Samuel drifting ashore like a shipwrecked sailor was one thing. But when he started crying, it was like having to deal with a drowning man.

  What Joel wanted to do more than anything else was to start crying himself. But he didn’t, of course. He stood up and walked round the table. Patted Samuel on the head.

  When Samuel cried, it sounded as if he was squeaking. He was trying to say something, but the words jumped out of his mouth in a chaotic jumble. Joel gathered he was trying to explain why Sara wanted to break off the relationship, but he couldn’t understand what his father was saying.

  Afterwards everything was very silent.

  Samuel sat staring at his coffee cup. It occurred to Joel that Sara had now done the same as Mummy Jenny. She’d deserted Samuel.

  “Has she gone away?” Joel asked. “Did she also pack a bag and vanish?”

  “She’s still here,” Samuel said. “Why should she want to leave here? It’s only me she doesn’t want to see anymore.”

  Joel helped Samuel to go to bed. Took off his shoes and pulled a blanket over him. Then he sat in the kitchen and waited until he was sure that Samuel really had fallen asleep. By this time Joel was so tired that he didn’t bother to get undressed either, but just lay down on top of the bed. Pulled the quilt over his head. Listened to Samuel’s snores rumbling in through the wall.