Julia was always alone.
Another child might have helped. Michael had wanted them to try for a brother or sister for Jens, but Julia had said no. She had never felt sure enough, and in the end Michael had stopped asking.
Often when Julia didn’t answer the telephone, she got a recorded message as a reward, and when it had stopped ringing this evening, she got up from the bed and picked up the receiver, but all she could hear was the rushing noise.
She put the phone down and opened the cupboard above the refrigerator. The bottle of the day was standing there, and as usual the bottle of the day was a bottle of red wine.
To be perfectly accurate, it was the second bottle of red wine of the day, because at lunchtime she’d finished off a bottle she’d started the previous evening.
The cork came out with a soft popping sound as she opened the wine. She poured a glass and knocked it back quickly. She poured a fresh glass.
The warmth of the wine spread through her body, and now she could turn and look out through the window. It had grown dark out there, the streetlamps illuminating only a few round patches of tarmac. Nothing was moving in the glow of the lamps. But what was hiding in the shadows? It was impossible to see.
Julia turned away from the window and emptied her second glass. She was calmer now. She had been feeling tense since the conversation with the benefits office, but now she was calm. She deserved a third glass of wine, but she could drink that more slowly, in front of the TV. She might put on some music soon, Satie perhaps, take a pill, and get to sleep before midnight.
Later the telephone rang again.
On the third ring she sat up in bed, her head bowed. On the fifth she got up, and by the seventh she was finally standing in the kitchen.
Before the telephone rang for the ninth time, she picked up the receiver. She whispered:
“Julia Davidsson.”
The reply was not a rushing noise, but a quiet, clear voice:
“Julia?”
And she knew who it was.
“Gerlof?” she said quietly.
She no longer called him Dad.
“Yes... it’s me.”
There was silence once more, and she had to press the receiver closer to her ear to hear.
“I think... I know a bit more about how it happened.”
“What?” Julia stared at the wall. “How what happened?”
“Well, how it all... with Jens.”
Julia swallowed.
“Is he dead?” she asked.
It was like walking around with a numbered ticket in your hand. One day your number was called, and then you were allowed to go up and collect the information. And Julia thought of white fragments of bone, washed up on the shore down in Stenvik, despite the fact that Jens had been afraid of the water.
“Julia, he must be—”
“But have they found him?” she interrupted him.
“No, but...”
She blinked. “Then why are you calling?”
“Nobody’s found him. But I’ve—”
“In that case, don’t call me!” she screamed, and slammed the phone down.
She closed her eyes and stayed where she was, beside the telephone.
A numbered ticket, a place in the queue. But this wasn’t the right day, Julia didn’t want this to be the day when Jens was found.
She sat down at the table, turning her gaze to the darkness outside the window, thinking nothing, then looked at the telephone again. She got up, walked over to it, and waited, but it remained silent.
I’m doing this for you, Jens.
Julia picked up the receiver, looked at the scrap of paper which had been stuck to the white kitchen tile above the bread bin for several years, and dialed the number.
Her father answered after the first ring.
“Gerlof Davidsson.”
“It’s me,” she said.
“Julia. Yes.”
Silence. Julia gathered her courage.
“I shouldn’t have slammed the phone down.”
“Oh, it’s...”
“It doesn’t help.”
“No, well,” said her father. “It’s just one of those things.”
“What’s the weather like on Öland?”
“Cold and gray,” said Gerlof. “I haven’t been out today.”
There was silence once more and Julia took a deep breath.
“Why did you call?” she said. “Something must have happened.”
He hesitated before replying.
“Yes... a few things have happened here,” he said, then added, “But I don’t know anything. No more than before.”
No more than I do, thought Julia. I’m sorry, Jens.
“I thought there was something new.”
“But I’ve been doing some thinking,” said Gerlof. “And I think there are things that can be done.”
“Done? What for?”
“So that we can move on,” said Gerlof, then quickly went on: “Can you come over here?”
“When?”
“Soon. I think it would be a good idea.”
“I can’t just take off,” she said. But it wasn’t that impossible — she was signed off work long-term. She went on: “You have to tell me... tell me what it’s about. Can’t you tell me that?”
Her father was silent.
“Do you remember what he was wearing that day?” he asked eventually.
That day.
“Yes.” She’d helped Jens to get dressed herself that morning, and afterward she’d realized he was dressed for summer, despite the fact that it was autumn. “He was wearing yellow shorts and a red cotton shirt,” she said. “With the Phantom on it. It had been his cousin’s, it was one of those transfers you could do yourself, with the iron, made of thin plastic...”
“Do you remember what kind of shoes he had on?” asked Gerlof.
“Sandals,” said Julia. “Brown leather sandals with black rubber soles. One of the straps across the toe of the right one had come loose, and several straps on the left one were about to come loose too... They always did that at the end of the summer, but I’d stitched it back on...”
“With white thread?”
“Yes,” said Julia quickly. Then she thought about it. “Yes, I think it was white. Why?”
There was silence for a few seconds. Then Gerlof replied:
“An old sandal is lying here on my desk. It’s been mended with white thread. It looks as if it would fit a five-year-old... I’m sitting here looking at it now.”
Julia swayed and leaned against the countertop.
Gerlof said something else, but she broke the connection and there was silence once again.
The numbered ticket — this was the number she had been given, and soon her name would be called.
She was calm now. After ten minutes she lifted her hand from the receiver rest and keyed in Gerlof’s number. Her father answered after the first ring, as if he’d been waiting for her.
“Where did you find it?” she asked. “Where? Gerlof?”
“It’s complicated,” said Gerlof. “You know how I... you know it’s not so easy for me to get about, Julia. It’s just getting more and more difficult. And that’s why I’d really like you to come here.”
“I don’t know...” Julia closed her eyes, hearing only the rushing noise on the telephone. “I don’t know if I can.” She could see herself on the shore, see herself walking around among the pebbles, carefully collecting all the tiny parts of the skeleton she could find, pressing them close to her breast. “Maybe.”
“What do you remember?” asked Gerlof.
“What do you mean?”
“About that day? Do you remember anything in particular?” he asked. “I’d really like you to think about it.”
“I remember that Jens disappeared... He...”
“I’m not thinking of Jens at the moment,” said Gerlof. “What else do you remember?”