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

by Henning Mankell

  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?’

  Joel could feel the tears forming in his eyes. He pointed to the bench.

  ‘There,’ he said. ‘But he’s disappeared. And so has my rucksack.’

  ‘That’s blown it!’ said Samuel. ‘You can’t trust all and sundry. He’s obviously nicked your rucksack.’

  Joel was struggling to hold back the tears. He realised how stupid he’d been. The Black Wave had sat down on the bench next to Joel in order to try and steal the suitcase and the cardboard box and the rucksack. He’d seen immediately that Joel was in town for the first time. And what had he asked about? Are you going off somewhere? And what had Joel told him? I’ve just arrived. From up north.

  How stupid could you get?

  ‘We’re in a bit of a mess now,’ said Samuel. ‘We’d better find a policeman and report this.’

  ‘Maybe he’s still around somewhere,’ said Joel.

  ‘No chance,’ said Samuel. ‘You can bet your life there’ll be no trace of him.’

  ‘But what use would my rucksack be to him?’ Joel asked. ‘There was nothing in it. Only my old clothes.’

  ‘A good question,’ said Samuel. ‘But we’re not going to get an answer.’

  Samuel walked purposefully towards a police constable who was patrolling the concourse. He explained what had happened. Joel noticed that Samuel was different now. It was as if his back had straightened itself out. The policeman escorted them to the police station. Another officer noted down everything Joel said. What the rucksack looked like. And what had been inside it.

  But what the policeman wanted to know most of all was what The Black Wave had looked like.

  Joel could remember him well. The shirt and the suit, the tie and the pointed shoes.

  When they finished, Samuel signed a document.

  ‘We don’t have a local address,’ said Samuel. ‘We’re only here for a visit.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to come back here to ask if we’ve managed to catch the thief,’ said the police constable.

  They went back out into the station concourse. Joel looked round.

  ‘They’ll never find him,’ said Samuel. ‘He’s vanished.’

  ‘My toothbrush, though,’ said Joel. ‘What does he want my toothbrush for?’

  Samuel didn’t answer.

  ‘We’d better find ourselves a hotel now,’ he said. ‘And then we can try to buy you a few items of clothing.’

  ‘I don’t need anything,’ said Joel.

  Samuel looked him up and down, worried.

  ‘We mustn’t forget why we’re here,’ he said. ‘And after all, we can be pleased that we still have the Celestine.’

  They left the station and went into the street.

  Joel was overwhelmed by all the traffic.

  Samuel looked around to establish his bearings.

  Then they started walking.

  4

  Samuel spotted a building displaying a hotel sign.

  At that very moment it started raining.

  The building was old and gloomy. It was squeezed into a block next to the railway station. Samuel stopped several times, hesitated, then started walking again with Joel a couple of paces behind him.

  Joel was still fretting about being so stupid as to allow The Black Wave to make a fool of him.

  All kinds of thoughts went shooting through his head.

  He ought to have stayed at home.

  He was too stupid to be let loose in the world.

  He ought to forget all about the possibility of becoming a sailor one of these days.

  He should do what Samuel had done. Become a lumberjack. Nothing else.

  He ought to acquire a stoop, shave carelessly and get drunk whenever things were getting him down.

  Joel was so angry and bitter that he sometimes started talking to himself aloud. Samuel turned round.

  ‘What was that you said?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘But I heard you say something.’

  ‘You heard wrong.’

  Samuel eyed him thoughtfully. Then they carried on walking.

  They stopped outside the hotel. The building was in a bad state of repair. Patches of plaster had fallen off the façade. An upstairs window was banging in the breeze.

  ‘This place looks good,’ said Samuel, as if he were trying to cheer himself up.

  ‘It looks awful,’ muttered Joel; but he was careful not to speak loudly enough for Samuel to hear what he said.

  They went into the lobby. There was a strong smell of disinfectant. A bald man with thick-lensed glasses was sitting at a desk, peering at a newspaper.

  They took a double room. Samuel paid in advance for two nights.

  ‘Will breakfast be served?’ Samuel asked, as he stood with the key in his hand.

  ‘Of course it will,’ said the bald man. ‘But not here.’

  Joel saw that Samuel was blushing. He’d never seen that happen before.

  ‘If I ask a sensible question I expect to get a sensible answer,’ said Samuel. His voice was shaking. He was angry.

  The bald man lowered his newspaper.

  ‘If you’re not satisfied you can always go and find another hotel.’

  ‘Where can we get breakfast?’ Samuel asked. ‘And where can we get dinner?’

  He was still angry.

  ‘There are lots of cafés and restaurants around here.’

  Joel could feel Samuel’s anger brushing off onto him.

  Joel took a step forward and stood shoulder to shoulder with Samuel.

  ‘We also need to find a clothes shop,’ he said. ‘Somebody’s stolen my rucksack.’

  ‘First turning on the left,’ said the bald man.

  They went to the lift. The room they had been given was on the third floor. Samuel paused and turned round.

  ‘One other thing,’ he said. ‘If we get a telephone call, we’re not in.’

  The bald man bowed and nodded.

  They walked up the stairs.

  ‘What was all that about?’ asked Joel. ‘What telephone call? Why aren’t we in?’

  Samuel chuckled.

  ‘We can’t have him thinking that he can treat us however he likes. If you’re expecting a telephone call, people think you are on important business. People are stupid.’

  ‘I’m stupid,’ said Joel. ‘I let somebody nick my rucksack.’

  ‘You’ll learn,’ said Samuel. ‘I’ve had things stolen, in the past. When I was a sailor. And had gone on shore leave in various places. You do silly things at times. And clever things at other times. That’s life. You’ll learn.’

  It was dark in the corridor.

  They eventually located room 303.

  They unlocked the door and went in. Everything in the room was brown. There was a patch of damp on the wallpaper, which was also brown. Samuel looked round and went over to the window.

  ‘At least we’ve got a view of the street,’ he said. ‘It’ll do.’

  Joel thought the room was fine. It was the first time he’d ever stayed in a hotel. He couldn’t imagine how it could be any better. Two big beds with a table and bedside lamp between them.

  ‘Choose which of the beds you want,’ said Samuel.

  Jo
el took the one closest to the window. From it he had a view of a rooftop.

  Joel carefully unpacked the present they’d brought for Mummy Jenny. He was worried in case it had been damaged. He and Samuel examined it.

  ‘All in one piece,’ said Samuel.

  Joel placed it gently on the chest of drawers.

  ‘Celestine has travelled just as far as we have,’ he said.

  They both stretched out on their beds.

  ‘Take your shoes off,’ said Samuel. ‘So that you don’t dirty the cover.’

  In his head Joel unpacked his invisible rucksack. No doubt The Black Wave would throw away everything he found in it. Joel’s shirts, and his best trousers. Not to mention his trainers. That was the worst thing. Not having those any more.

  ‘Don’t think about the rucksack,’ Samuel said out of the blue. ‘That’s life. It’s gone.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking about the rucksack,’ said Joel. ‘I was thinking about my trainers.’

  They lay there in silence. It was pouring with rain now. Drops were hitting hard against the windowpane.

  I’m in Stockholm, Joel thought.

  I’ve left school. I’ve travelled here with Samuel. And somewhere out there in the rain is Mummy Jenny.

  He turned his head to look at Samuel. His dad’s eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep.

  ‘What shall we do now?’ Joel wondered.

  ‘Wait until it stops raining,’ said Samuel, without opening his eyes.

  ‘But it might rain for a whole week.’

  Samuel didn’t respond. He smiled. Joel wondered what he was thinking about. Most probably about Jenny. But were his thoughts anxious ones? Or was he angry?

  Joel decided it might be easier to ask Samuel questions when they weren’t at home. Perhaps it was easier to get answers to your questions when you were in a hotel room?

  ‘What actually happened?’ he asked.

  Samuel turned his head and opened his eyes.

  ‘Happened?’

  ‘When Mummy Jenny vanished.’

  ‘She packed a case and left.’

  Joel waited for what was coming next, but nothing did.

  ‘Is that all? Just packed a case and left?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Surely there must be something else?’

  ‘The suitcase was brown. She was wearing a green coat. And a red hat. I can’t remember what colour her shoes were.’