‘It was a miracle that we managed to get him back on board,’ said Joel.
‘He was lucky,’ said Samuel. ‘Lucky, no more than that.’
‘What about those mysterious crates?’ ventured Joel.
‘Oh, I nearly forgot them,’ said Samuel, standing up and disappearing into his room.
Joel remained on his chair, tense with excitement.
Mysterious crates always resulted in Joel being given something by Samuel.
His dad returned to the kitchen.
‘Those crates we were carrying contained old memories,’ he said.
He handed Joel a faded photograph.
It was dirty, and one corner was torn off. But Joel could see that it depicted a ship in port. Some of the crew were standing on a gangway, looking directly at the camera. One of them was in uniform, the rest were wearing normal working clothes.
One of the crewmen had moved his head just as the photograph was being taken. That’s why his face was blurred.
‘That’s me,’ said Samuel, pointing to the blurred face. ‘Just as the photographer pressed the button, a fly flew up my nose. So there’s a fly in this picture as well, even if you can’t see it. I found this snap when I was searching for another one. That’s the way it always is. You never find what you’re looking for, but you find something else instead. I’d like you to have the photograph. The ship was called Pilgrimme, and came from Bristol.’
‘Thank you,’ said Joel, laying the photograph down carefully on the table.
This was a terrific present. He would be able to imagine all kinds of adventures on the basis of it.
Samuel sat down on the bench again and started darning a sock. Joel cleared the table, and suddenly felt very tired. He wouldn’t have the strength to think about his good deed tonight. He could feel that he’d fall asleep the moment he snuggled down in bed.
He undressed, brushed his teeth and put on his nightshirt, which reached right down to his feet. Once he had settled down under the blankets, he shouted to his dad. Samuel came in with the sock in his hand, and sat down on the edge of the bed. The bed creaked under his weight.
‘Do you think a lot about the accident?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Joel. ‘I don’t think about the bus at all.’
But that wasn’t quite true. It was there all the time, lurking behind all the other thoughts spinning round in his head. Sometimes it forced its way to the fore, and then it was like a beast of prey, threatening to pounce on him.
Joel tried not to think about it. But it was hard. Thoughts can’t simply cease to be thought about, just like that. Especially nasty thoughts.
The worst thought of all was that a tree would fall on top of Samuel while he was working in the forest. Nothing could be worse than that. When Joel thought about it, he was sometimes so frightened that he almost started trembling. It was as if the tree had fallen already. And Joel could do nothing about it. He had learnt that you couldn’t run away from the nasty thoughts that crop up in your mind.
Perhaps the bus would become one of those thoughts? One that never went away?
Samuel stroked him on the cheek and went back to the kitchen. Joel tried to think about the good deed he was going to do, but he was too tired. His thoughts jumped and scurried about, and he couldn’t catch them.
It was like trying to catch a flock of sparrows jumping around a pool of water in the street...
He didn’t manage to think of a good deed the next day either. Even though he thought about it as hard as he could. On two occasions he was thinking so hard that he forgot to listen to what Miss Nederström was saying. But she didn’t notice that he wasn’t paying attention. Or perhaps she excused him because he had experienced a miracle?
Everything was almost back to normal during the breaks. But only almost. His friends still looked at him in a slightly odd way. And Joel could feel that uncomfortable feeling of solemnity coming back.
After school he decided to pay a visit to Simon Windstorm. Perhaps Simon could suggest a good deed? He was also known as The Old Bricklayer, and lived in a broken-down house on the other side of the hospital. Unlike Gertrud, who was just odd, Simon really was a bit mad. He had been locked up in a secure hospital for many years, because he was insane. Then he’d got better, and they let him out again. But a lot of people thought he was still mad, and a lot were frightened of him as well.
Not Joel, though.
Not since that time Simon had taken him to Four Winds Lake.
Joel turned off from the main road and followed a little path that wound its way through dense thickets of young fir trees. It was easy to get lost if you didn’t know the way. Simon had made a hotchpotch of paths. It was a sort of labyrinth. If you didn’t take the right one, you kept coming back to the main road again. Simon had done this on purpose, so that he would be left in peace. He lived in an old smithy, and there were some locals who considered that he shouldn’t be allowed to stay there. Sometimes ladies dressed all in black and wearing flat hats, as well as men also dressed all in black, would come to Simon’s door and try to persuade him to move into an old people’s home. They always came in groups, because they were frightened of Simon. He could get very angry at times. Once, he had thrown a hen at the head of a lady wearing a flat hat. There was a clucking and cackling all over the house, and the outcome was that Simon was left in peace. But not for long. They soon started coming back again.
Joel didn’t really know if the Flat Hats had any right to decide where Simon was allowed to live. But he had no doubt at all that they belonged to an enemy tribe.
You had to be wary of the Flat Hats.
As Joel made his way through the tall fir trees, keeping an eye on the paths so that he didn’t take a wrong turning, it occurred to him that he would have to get himself a real friend. He couldn’t carry on only mixing with grown-ups, especially as they weren’t all there.
Not that he had any intention of deserting Gertrud and Simon.
It was just that he wanted to have a friend of his own age.
Suddenly he emerged from the dense fir trees. There in front of him was Simon’s cottage, surrounded by a garden full of scrap iron and old machines. Also parked there was the ancient lorry in which Simon used to drive round town when he couldn’t sleep at night.
Smoke was rising from the chimney, and a hen was pecking away on the porch.
Joel paused and took a look at Simon’s pigsty. It was an old taxicab that he had converted into a sty. A little pink snout was sticking up where the windscreen had been once upon a time.
Joel knocked on the front door and went in. It always took him some time to get used to the smell inside Simon’s house. It wasn’t a pleasant smell. Joel had to breathe through his mouth so as not to feel sick.
He knew that Simon didn’t get washed very often. And there were chickens running around in all the rooms. And a Norwegian elkhound gnawing away at its bones next to the stove.
He needed time to grow accustomed to the smell, but he usually managed it after a while.
Simon was sitting at the table reading a book when Joel arrived. That’s what he was usually doing when Joel paid a visit. He would read with a pencil in his hand, and if he came across something he didn’t like, he would rewrite it. Books were piled up all over the house. The hens used to lay eggs in among the books, and Joel sometimes helped Simon to find them.
Simon was wearing a thick fur coat. He wore it throughout the summer as well as the winter. He had a beard that sprouted out in all directions, and his hair stood on end.
When Joel came into the room Simon was busy altering the ending of a fat book. Joel knew that Simon didn’t like being disturbed when he was writing. He crossed out chunks of text, and wrote a new version between the lines. Joel squatted down and stroked the elkhound while Simon was busy writing.