He also made up his mind to leave. But he stayed.
He made up his mind not to open the gate.
Then he opened it.
But I’m not going to go as far as the steps, he told himself.
Then he walked up to the steps. But he didn’t dare to open the door. He tried to listen. But there wasn’t a sound to be heard.
There was a wide gravel path surrounding the house.
I’m not going to walk along that, he told himself.
Then he started walking.
The building was very large, with lots of windows. Most of them were dark, but there were lights on here and there. Very bright lights.
Autumn Light, he thought. The light of Autumn. What kind of a building could this be?
There was a large garden at the back. He paused outside a shed. The doors were standing open, and inside were several old wheelchairs.
Curiouser and curiouser. No doubt he would have been scared stiff some years ago. But not now.
It was just odd.
He continued walking and came to a side door. He noticed immediately that it was ajar.
I’m not going to go in, no matter what, he told himself.
Then he found himself taking hold of the door handle. The door creaked. But only a little. It was light inside. He let go of the handle and the door closed.
Then he opened it again.
I can always say I’m lost, he thought. They’ll hear that from the way I speak. Here’s a young man who’s very lost indeed. He’s come all the way from the north of Sweden.
I can also say that I’ve been sleepwalking. And that I’m staying at a hotel, but can’t find my way back.
He listened. There was a single ceiling light. Not a sound. He slipped in through the door and made sure it didn’t close of its own accord. For safety’s sake he placed a small twig between the door and the jamb.
There was a strange smell. Musty. Old. But something else as well. Then it dawned on him what it was. Hospital.
He remembered the smell from the time when he’d been almost killed by a bus and had to spend some time in hospital.
But how could a hospital be called anything but a hospital? Autumn Light? It seemed strange. He tiptoed along the corridor and came to a wide double door. He opened it carefully and peeped inside. There was a stretcher trolley along one of the walls, and next to it a wheelchair.
Now he knew it was a hospital. He listened. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a door being opened and then closed again. Then all was quiet once more. He stepped cautiously back into the corridor. How would he be able to find the woman in the green coat among all these doors? He crept along the corridor, expecting somebody to appear at any moment. He was rehearsing his excuses all the time. That he was lost, had come all the way from Norrland. Or that he was a sleepwalker who had gone astray while taking a nocturnal stroll.
All the doors looked the same. He decided to open one at random. He peeped in and could see that it was almost completely dark. Just a faint light from a lamp in one corner. He went in. His eyes got used to the darkness, and he saw that he was in a room with a lot of beds.
The room was filled with snores. There was a squeaking and sighing and grinding and singing. He took another couple of paces forward, and saw that there were very old people in each of the beds.
A hospital, he thought. Or an old people’s home. Or a mixture of the two.
There was a strong, pungent smell. In one of the beds was an old man who wasn’t snoring. Joel suddenly had the feeling that the man was watching him through half-closed eyes.
And then he thought the man was dead.
The panic came from nowhere. Joel raced out of the room and paid no attention to the fact that the door creaked.
As he hurtled into the corridor he heard voices. A door opened and closed. The voices were getting louder. Joel turned round and ran back along the corridor. But he no longer knew which door he’d just come out of. There were lots of double doors. The voices were very close now. Joel ducked in through the nearest door. He heard footsteps going past in the corridor. Two women talking. And then all was quiet again.
The room was suddenly lit up. Joel whipped round, but there was nobody there. Then he realised that he must have brushed against the light switch with his shoulder. He was about to switch off again when he saw that he was in some kind of changing room. There were rows of lockers and benches. And there was a name on every locker door.
Mummy Jenny, he thought. If it really was you coming here tonight, your name will be on one of these lockers.
Doctor Jenny, or Nurse Jenny. Or Manager Jenny.
He started to work his way along the rows of lockers. Nearly all of them had women’s names on the door. There was an Arne Bergström and somebody called Hagge K, but all the rest were women.
There was a Judith and a Johanna in the first row. Joel started to work his way through those opposite.
He’d come more or less to the middle of the row.
And then he saw the name.
Jenny Rydén.
He held his breath.
Was this his mum? Jenny Rydén?
He just knew it was. But there again . . .
The locker door wasn’t locked. If he opened it and found the green coat hanging there, he would be sure.
He decided to leave the door closed.
Then he opened it.
The coat hanging inside the locker was even greener than he’d thought. It was the same colour as a lawn.
Jenny Rydén’s coat. His mother’s coat.
There was a handbag hanging from a hook next to the coat.
I could open it, he thought. There might be a purse inside it. With an address. Saying ‘Östgötagatan’. There might even be something else. Making it clear if she’s my mother or not.
Ever so carefully, he unhooked the handbag. It was fastened with a strap and a little silver stud.
He had the feeling that he was about to open a treasure chest that he’d been looking for as long as he could remember.
But maybe he should resist the temptation to open the bag. Samuel ought to have been there as well. Jenny was just as much his as Joel’s.
But he couldn’t resist it. He opened the handbag. It contained a pair of gloves. And a powder compact.
And a purse.
He put the handbag down on the floor and opened the purse.
As he did so the door burst open, and a man in a white coat was staring at Joel.
He had no way of knowing if it was Arne Bergström or Hagge K.
Joel tried to say something by way of explanation, and he even bowed to the man in the doorway.
But that was as far as he was allowed to go. The man strode towards him. Joel tried to duck, but two powerful hands grabbed hold of his arms.
‘A thief,’ he yelled. ‘You’re a thief. What are you doing in here? How did you get in? What have you pinched? How did you break into that locker? What’s your name?’
The questions came tumbling out of the man’s mouth. He was shouting, and red in the face.
He’ll hit me, Joel thought. He’s going to hit me.
When the man paused to breathe, Joel tried to say something. But the man started shouting and yelling again. The door to the corridor was flung open. An old man wearing shabby pyjamas and carrying a walking stick was peering short-sightedly at them.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
‘Go back to bed, Erik.’
The man holding Joel still sounded angry. The old man looked scared, turned and left.
‘I’m not a thief,’ Joel said. ‘I’m lost.’
‘A thief,’ said the man again. ‘You’re a thief.’
‘I’m just looking for my mum.’
Joel heard the words coming out of his mouth, but he had no idea where they originated. Nevertheless, the man holding him seemed to hesitate.
‘Your mum?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Jenny.’
‘There are two women working here called Jenny. What’s your surname?’
‘Gustafson.’
Joel realised that was the wrong answer. But it was too late. The man’s grip on him tightened even more.
‘There’s nobody here called Jenny Gustafson. You’re not only a thief, you’re a liar as well.’
Joel thought he had nothing to lose. If there were two women called Jenny working here, only one of them could have the surname Rydén. If he was lucky, he would have guessed right. But even if he had guessed right, he could still be wrong. He didn’t know if the woman he’d seen entering the building really was his mother.
‘Rydén,’ he said. ‘My mum’s called Rydén.’
The man let go, but only with one hand. He was still glaring suspiciously at Joel.
‘What do you want her for in the middle of the night?’
Joel was thinking desperately how he could get out of this awkward situation. He was usually good at getting out of awkward situations. But on this occasion, his mind seemed to have come to a complete standstill.
‘We’d better go and fetch her.’
The man started to drag Joel to the door.
That was the moment when his brain started functioning again.
‘It would be better if I didn’t actually see her.’
The man stopped and stared at Joel.
‘I thought you just said that was why you’d come here?’
‘I can explain.’
The man let go of him. But he stood guard in front of the door in case Joel tried to run away.
‘I went out after she’d left for work,’ said Joel. ‘And then the door slammed shut behind me. I didn’t have a key and didn’t know how I was going to get back in. She gets angry if I’m out late at night. I thought I’d come and collect her key. Then go home and unlock the door. And then I thought I’d leave the key lying on the floor. That would make her think she’d dropped it.’
The words simply tumbled out. One after the other. Joel was amazed by the way in which he’d managed to patch together a story that sounded almost like the truth.
‘You expect me to believe that?’
Yes, thought Joel. Or at least, I hope you will. So that I can get out of here.
The door opened again. It was the same old man as before.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
‘Go back to bed, Erik. You shouldn’t be up and wandering around in the night. You’ll only get lost and end up in the wrong bed.’
The old man went away.
Joel thought he’d better improve his story.
‘My mum would be very angry,’ he said.
The answer he received surprised him.
‘You can bet your life she would,’ said the man, shaking his head.
Then he turned serious again. His suspicions had returned.
‘How come you speak with a northern accent? Your mum speaks with a Stockholm accent.’
Joel had no idea how to answer that one.
‘It’s a sort of illness,’ he said, and recognised at the same time that he had just come out with the daftest thing imaginable.
‘What kind of an illness?’
‘It’s the same as with eyes,’ he said. ‘You can inherit your grandmother’s dialect. Or your grandfather’s.’
‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it.’
‘I didn’t know either,’ said Joel innocently. ‘Not until a doctor explained it to us. Only a few weeks ago.’
The man shook his head.
‘I think we’d better fetch your mum even so,’ he said. ‘This business seems so peculiar. What are you doing out on the streets at this time of night?’
‘It’s the summer holidays. And I’ve left school.’
The man seemed to be thinking. He was still on his guard. And very suspicious.
‘I was under the impression that Jenny only had two daughters.’
Joel felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. So it was wrong after all.
The wrong mother.
Then the man shook his head.
‘I suppose I’d better believe you. Take the key. I won’t say anything.’
Joel walked shakily back to the handbag and felt around in it. But he could find no trace of a key.
Even so he pretended to put something into his pocket. Then he put the handbag back in the locker and closed the door.
‘How did you get in?’
‘There was an unlocked door at the back.’
The man sighed.
‘The caretakers are careless,’ he said. ‘It’s always the same.’
‘A thief could get in,’ said Joel.
The man nodded.
‘You can leave through the front entrance,’ he said. ‘Jenny’s drinking coffee at the moment. Upstairs.’
The man escorted him to the door.
‘I hope you’re not having me on,’ he said.
Joel could feel pangs of his bad conscience.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not having you on. It happened once before. I was forced to take a room at the Raven Hotel.’
Then he went out into the courtyard.
He could have bitten his tongue off. Why did he have to mention the name of the hotel where he and Samuel were staying? He felt like kicking himself.
But there was nothing he could do about it now. He stood in front of the gate with the make-believe key in his pocket. The key to the building his mother didn’t live in. But where two daughters of a woman called Jenny Rydén were presumably lying asleep.
He felt relieved. But also dejected. Relieved at having got away. Dejected because things weren’t as he’d thought after all.
Or as he’d hoped.
He knew the facts now. He really had hoped that the green coat would be the same one. The one Mummy Jenny had been wearing when she went away. But now when he thought he’d found her again, he’d only found somebody called Jenny Rydén.
He started walking back to the hotel. He felt really tired now. The clock on a church tower said turned one.
The streets were deserted. Hardly any traffic.
If I wait a bit longer I’ll be completely alone, he thought. Just as alone as I’ve always been when I wandered around the streets at home during the night. On my bike. Looking for a dog that had gone off, heading for a distant star.
The last thing he felt like was somebody who was now fifteen years old.
He glanced up at the sky.
A drop of rain hit him in the face.
It’s that dog, he thought. Sitting up there somewhere, spitting at me.
Before long it started raining properly. Joel speeded up. Then it started bucketing down. He couldn’t run that fast. So he slowed down again. It made no difference. He’d be soaked through by the time he got to the hotel, no matter how fast he walked.
And needless to say, he took a wrong turning. He soon hadn’t the slightest idea where he was. He didn’t recognise any of the streets. It took him ages to find the right way again. He was so wet by then that his shoes were full of water.
And needless to say, it stopped raining the moment he reached the hotel entrance. He opened the door slowly. The woman was still asleep behind the desk. He walked up the stairs. When he reached the door of his room, he paused to listen. All quiet.
He opened the door carefully.
But things weren’t as he’d expected. Samuel wasn’t asleep.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his stomach.
His face was ashen.
And he didn’t ask where Joel had been.
‘I have a terrible stomachache,’ was all he said. ‘I think I’m going to die.’
Nothing else.
I have a terrible stomachache. I think I’m going to die.
7
Joel would look back on that night as the moment when he grew up once and for all. When he slowly opened the door of his hotel room, it was as if he were really opening the door to hi
s future.
He left his childhood behind him in the corridor.
He would never forget it. Never ever.
Samuel sitting on the edge of the bed holding a hand over his stomach. His pyjama jacket unbuttoned. His face ashen.
And the words:
I have a terrible stomachache. I think I’m going to die.
It was several seconds before it sank in. Before he grasped properly that nothing was as he’d thought it would be. A dark room and Samuel snoring in his bed.
Instead he was sitting on the edge of the bed and was in pain.
He had so much pain that it hurt Joel as well.
And then he felt scared.
What he had felt when he’d been caught red-handed with Jenny Rydén’s handbag was nothing compared to this. Now he was seriously scared. His heart started pounding, like a fist beating at a door.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, and could hear his voice trembling.
Samuel shook his head.
He really was in agony. Joel could see the pain oozing out from his father’s eyes, from his nose, from his tousled hair and his worn-out pyjamas.
‘I woke up,’ said Samuel. ‘I’d been dreaming that I had a stomachache. But when I woke up I found it wasn’t just a dream.’
Joel had sat down beside Samuel. He’d started to feel cold now. He didn’t know if it was due to his wet clothes or because he was scared. But it didn’t matter either way. The important thing was that Samuel was in pain.
Samuel was rocking back and forth. The pain came and went.
‘Perhaps you ought to go to the lavatory?’ said Joel.
Samuel shook his head again. Joel could see that he was in so much pain that he was sweating.
‘It’ll pass,’ said Samuel. ‘But it hurts something awful.’
They sat for a while in silence. The pain wandered back and forth between them. Joel tried to think. What could he do? What did Samuel generally do when Joel had a stomachache? Give him something to drink. Or say he should try to be sick.
‘Perhaps you ought to be sick?’ he said.
Samuel shook his head for the third time.
‘It’s not that. This is different.’
Then he lay down gingerly, holding on tight to the bed frame with one hand. Joel stayed sitting where he was. He was now so cold that he started shivering.
The Journey to the End of the World (Joel Gustafson Stories) Page 7