He was in a hurry now. He ran down the hill leading to the town centre. There was the ironmonger’s, and there was the shoe shop. And over there, on the corner, was the bar.
He’d been running so fast that he had to pause and get his breath back.
It suddenly dawned on him that he was standing in the very spot where he’d set off over the street without looking. The very same place where the accident had been transformed into a miracle.
That must mean that I’m doing the right thing, he thought. Starting my good deed at the very same spot.
The bar door opened and Nyberg, the bouncer, came out and blew his nose into his fingers. Joel dodged quickly behind a parked car. He didn’t want Nyberg to see him and start asking questions.
Nyberg cleared his throat and spat onto the pavement. Then he went back into the bar. Joel looked carefully in both directions before crossing over the street. At the back of the bar was a door that Sara had said he could use if he wanted to pay her a visit.
He hesitated for a moment.
Then he opened the door and went into the bar to find a man for Gertrud.
5
Joel sometimes broke a cup or a dish when he was washing up after he and Samuel had eaten a meal.
But that was nothing compared with what Ludde broke.
Ludde was the owner of the bar. But he didn’t mix with his customers: instead, he spent his time at the sink. He was small and fat, and his hands were always red and swollen because of the washing-up water.
There was a notice on the door leading into the kitchen at the rear of the bar saying that unauthorised persons were not permitted entry, but that didn’t apply to Joel because Sara worked there. Joel didn’t often use that door. It was always chaotic and noisy in the kitchen. Besides, he didn’t like Sara and the other waitresses patting him on the head. Treating him almost as if he were Sara’s own boy.
He didn’t like being a Nearly Boy. And even if Sara was nice and Samuel was always in a good mood when he was together with her, Joel refused to pretend that Sara was his mother. His mum was called Jenny, and would always be called Jenny. Even if he never met her again for the rest of his life, he would never have another mum.
But he did sometimes go in through the forbidden door. And today he had an important errand. He had to find a man for Gertrud.
When he entered the kitchen, it was even more chaotic than usual. Ludde was bent over the sink, washing up like a madman. There was a rattling and clinking and clattering in the frothy water from glasses, cups, dishes and cutlery.
It was mostly glasses, as this was a bar after all, and everybody was drinking beer. But the beer drinkers occasionally grew hungry and wanted food. Ludde did the cooking and the washing up at the same time. Only one dish was served in the bar, and it was always known as Ludde’s Beef Stew. Sara had told Joel that Ludde had owned the bar for over twenty years, and he had served the same stew all that time. Joel used to study the big pot standing on the stove, and imagined it cooking for twenty years. Ludde had occasionally added some new bits of meat, and stirred the thick, brown gravy; but essentially it was the same dish that had been standing on the stove for twenty years. Once, when Joel was hungry, Sara had served him up a plate of Ludde’s Beef Stew. Joel had eaten it, and thought how he had eaten something that had been simmering on that stove since before he was born.
Now, when Joel entered the kitchen, Ludde was bent over the sink as usual.
‘Joel!’ he shouted. ‘You can’t imagine how pleased we all were to hear that you hadn’t been injured.’
‘No doubt it was a miracle,’ said Joel evasively.
Just then Sara came in through the swing doors carrying a tray. It was full of empty bottles and glasses, overflowing ash trays and sticky plates. Joel wondered if he would have been able to lift the tray.
Sara was strong. Joel had once watched her heave a sack of coal onto her shoulder. His dad Samuel was strong, but Joel wondered if Sara was even stronger.
All the waitresses working in the bar were strong, and they all looked similar. Big and fat and sweaty. And they were all dressed the same: black skirts and white blouses. Once Joel had been in the kitchen and they had come in through the swing doors one after another, and it seemed to him that they looked like animals. Black and white waitress-elephants marching in from the beery jungle...
Sara put the tray down with a bang, and immediately, Ludde started filling his sink with more plates and glasses. A dish and a glass fell off the tray and smashed as they hit the floor.
Joel hardly dare look in case he burst out laughing. There were always piles of broken china and glass round Ludde’s feet. To avoid cutting his feet, he wore black overshoes. He didn’t have shoes inside the overshoes, though, but slippers. As Joel wasn’t really sure if Ludde minded people laughing at him, he avoided looking at the floor. Instead, he screwed up his eyes and peered sideways at the scene. He wouldn’t need to laugh if he did that.
Sara had told Joel that all the money Ludde earned by selling beer and beef stew was spent on buying new crockery and glasses. Once Sara and the other waitresses had been paid, and Nyberg the bouncer as well, and all the beer and the stew bills had been settled, Ludde only had enough money left over to buy new crockery and glasses.
And it went on like that, year after year. And all the time the pot of stew clucked and spluttered on the stove.
‘Hello, Joel,’ said Sara with a smile, wiping the sweat from her brow.
Please don’t hug me, Joel thought. I don’t want to be hugged.
‘Have you come to visit me?’ said Sara, pulling him closer and giving him a hug. Joel tried to resist, but it was impossible. Sara was as strong as a weightlifter.
She could have toured the fairgrounds in a sideshow as Sara the Strong.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asked. ‘Would you like something to eat?’
‘No thank you,’ said Joel. ‘I only called in to say hello.’
He didn’t really know how to go about finding a man for Gertrud, nor did he know if Sara would be able to help him. That’s why he answered as he did.
As he ran down the hill from Simon Windstorm’s house, he’d tried to gather his thoughts on what he knew about how grown-ups came to meet one another. He found it difficult to understand anything to do with love. To be honest, he had a pretty good idea of what was involved. At school, behind the bicycle sheds, Otto had once condescended to explain to Joel and some other boys how children were made. Joel had listened carefully, so as not to miss a single word. At first he thought that Otto must be out of his mind. Could that really be what happened? Surely not? How was it really done?
Joel had been sensible enough not to ask any questions, but for a long time he doubted if Otto had been telling the truth. Later, when he’d heard the same story from others, he had realised that it must presumably be right, strange though it might seem. Strange and complicated. He’d spent a lot of time wondering how there could possibly be so many children around when the whole business seemed to be so complicated.
So Joel knew quite a lot. And he knew how you went about kissing, even if he hadn’t yet tried it on a girl, only on his own reflection in the mirror.
But the big question was: how do grown-ups get to meet one another?
He knew some of the answer. You could go to the dance at the Community Centre on Saturday night, when Kringström’s orchestra was playing. That’s where people met. And he’d read in books about other ways in which people could meet. In fairy tales princes climbed up long ropes to meet princesses who were locked in high towers.