‘Quiet!’ Jan shouts.
It makes no difference. The playroom turns into a blurred mess of agitated children, jumping around and making it feel like a cramped cage.
Jan is the only adult present, and he can feel a wave of panic beginning to rise in his chest. But he puts a stop to it; he breathes in and moves to the centre of the room. Then he raises his voice like a hell-and-damnation pastor: ‘Quiet! Stop that right now!’
Most of the children stop dead, but little Leo carries on. His eyes are wide open and he is flailing around wildly with his cushion.
Jan has to move across and put his arms around him; he feels like a lion tamer. ‘Calm down, Leo. Calm down!’
The little body is struggling in his arms; Jan holds on tightly until Leo stops wriggling completely. The beast has been tamed, but afterwards Jan is exhausted.
‘I’m a bit concerned about Leo,’ he says to Marie-Louise in the kitchen later, when they are doing the dishes.
‘Oh?’
‘There’s so much anger inside him.’
Marie-Louise smiles. ‘That’s energy... He’s got enough energy for all of us!’
‘Do you know anything about his parents?’ Jan asks. ‘Are they both still alive? I think his father...’
But Marie-Louise shakes her head and dries her hands on a tea towel. ‘We don’t talk about that kind of thing, Jan. You know that.’
That evening after work Jan is sitting at home on the old sofa in front of the TV, trying to relax. But it’s difficult. His neighbour on the other side of the wall is celebrating the arrival of the weekend with an early party; Jan can hear the sound of music and clinking glasses.
His first working week at the Dell is over. He ought to celebrate, but it doesn’t feel appropriate somehow. It has passed quickly and has been easy, for the most part. He has done his best and taken his responsibilities seriously, and both the children and his colleagues seem to like him.
Jan has set up his old stereo; he puts on Rami’s album and turns up the volume to drown out the noise of the party. His old favourite comes on: the ballad ‘Your Secret Love’, where Rami sings in her whispering voice:
The song seems to Jan to be about a love which is impossible. If they ever meet again, he will ask Rami if he is right.
If they meet again — to make that happen he will have to get into St Psycho’s, perhaps through the basement. There is always a way into a building for the person who is brave enough.
He turns his back on the cramped room and looks out of the window.
There is not a soul in sight in the car park behind the apartment block, but it is full of cars. He counts eleven Volvos including his own, seven Saabs, two Toyotas and just one Mercedes. People have come home from work and gone indoors to join their families. Perhaps they are all sitting around the kitchen table, or in front of the TV. Perhaps they are busy with their knitting or their stamp collection.
But Jan is alone.
There — he has allowed himself to think the dangerous word, he has admitted his inferiority. He is alone, he is lonely.
He has no friends here in Valla. That is a cold, hard fact. He has nothing to do.
All he really wants to do is to sit here listening to Rami. But he still has boxes to unpack, and during the course of the evening he finds an old book containing drawings and newspaper cuttings. It’s his diary from when he was a teenager; he used to write in it now and again, but sometimes there would be several months between entries.
He opens the diary, picks up a pen and writes down everything that has happened over the past couple of weeks, letting it all out: the move to Valla, the loneliness, the new job, and the dream that it will lead him to Rami.
He has stuck an old photograph on the front of the book. It’s a Polaroid, slightly faded, but he can still see a blond-haired boy looking up in surprise from a hospital bed with its white sheets. It is Jan himself, aged fourteen.
11
After lunch on Saturday Jan goes down to the communal laundry room in the apartment block for the first time, and meets an old man. A white-haired neighbour whose beard is equally white is just leaving the room containing the washing machines.
Afterwards Jan realizes he should have spoken to him rather than merely nodding as the man walked past.
The man is carrying an old laundry bag over his shoulder, and as Jan glances at the fabric bag he can see that there are letters printed on it: T ICIA NDRY. There must be more letters, but they are concealed by the folds of the material.
Jan continues on into the laundry room. But suddenly his brain forms the words: St Patricia’s Laundry.
Could that possibly be right? It is too late to check — by this stage the old man has already left the cellar, the door has closed, and Jan is alone with his washing.
When all his clothes are clean and dry he goes back up to the apartment and tries to make some more room, shifting boxes out of the way, cleaning up and pushing together his landlady’s furniture. Then he eats yet another lonely meal at the kitchen table as darkness falls outside.
And after that? He goes into the living room and switches on the old TV. He sees dolphins swimming along beneath the surface of the water; it seems to be some kind of documentary. He settles down and learns that dolphins are nowhere near as nice and peace-loving as many people think.
Dolphins hunt in packs and often kill seals and other creatures, says the presenter.
Jan switches off the television after half an hour. The apartment is silent — but sounds are seeping in from elsewhere. Somewhere in the building someone is having another party. He can hear the thump of music, the loud slam of an outside door, loud voices and laughter.
Jan thinks about doing a little more drawing on The Secret Avenger; he is getting close to the end. Soon his hero must defeat the Gang of Four. Annihilate them.
The party continues, the laughter gets louder. In the end Jan puts on the stereo to drown out the noise, and gazes out of the window.
I ought to get myself a hobby, he thinks. Or join an evening class.
But what would he like to do? Learn French? How to play the ukulele?
No. After a while he switches off the stereo, puts on a black jacket so that he looks grown up, and goes out.
It is cold outside, and the street lamps have come on. It is quarter past eight. He can hear more music out here, echoing between the buildings. It’s party time — for all those who have friends.
Come down to Bill’s Bar, Lilian had said. I hang out there all the time.
Jan sets off towards the town centre. He wants to get to know his new home town, but what is there to see? Valla is a medium-sized Swedish town, with no great surprises. He passes a pizzeria, a Pentecostal church, a furniture store. A few bored teenagers are sitting around a table in the pizzeria; everywhere else is closed and in darkness.