‘And you knew nothing about it? You hadn’t seen her packing her case? Or going to the railway station to buy a ticket?’
‘She took a bus.’
‘Didn’t she leave a letter?’
‘No, nothing at all. The only thing on the table was the outside door key.’
Joel felt as if he were going round in circles. Now it was time to stop and jump into the middle. Where the important questions were.
‘Had you been quarrelling?’
‘No.’
One more jump now, Joel. A bit closer to the middle.
‘Had you been drinking?’
There was a pause before the answer came. But come it did.
‘I hadn’t been drinking. I didn’t drink in those days. Not when she was around. Never ever. And if she hadn’t left me I’d never have started either.’
Joel was right in the middle now. He couldn’t get any further in.
‘Mums don’t run away like that. It’s dads who vanish. Not mums. Something must have happened.’
Samuel sat up on the bed. So violently that it gave Joel a start. He thought he must have said something that had made Samuel angry.
But the eyes that were looking at Joel were not angry. They were Samuel’s normal eyes. Tired and perhaps a little sad.
‘Do you think I haven’t been wondering about that?’ said Samuel. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for thirteen years. Every single day. Why did she leave me? All I know is that she’s the only person who can answer that question. And that’s why we’re here. I want to know. Once and for all. Why she packed her case and left us.’
‘Maybe she won’t want to tell us,’ said Joel hesitantly.
Samuel had lain down again.
‘At least she ought to explain it to you,’ he said after a while. ‘You’re her son after all.’
The sound of a vacuum cleaner came from the corridor. Joel looked out of the window. The rain was easing off.
‘What shall we do?’ he asked.
‘First we’ll have something to eat,’ said Samuel. ‘Then we’ll go and buy you some clothes. And then we’ll go looking for Mummy Jenny.’
‘I don’t need any clothes,’ said Joel.
‘I’ve no intention of letting you meet your mum in scruffy old clothes,’ said Samuel. ‘But we don’t need to buy the most expensive clobber we can find.’
The rain died away.
Soon there was just the occasional drop on the window ledge. Samuel disappeared into the corridor, looking for a bathroom where he could get shaved.
Joel was looking at a painting hanging on the wall above the chest of drawers.
It depicted a woman with large breasts sitting down under a tree, leaning against the trunk. Next to her was a man kneeling down and playing the violin.
Joel started to think about Sonja Mattsson. If only he’d known her number, he could have phoned her from reception.
But what would he say to her?
This is that idiot Joel who’s come to Stockholm and had his rucksack nicked. Come and rescue me.
He banished the thought. Took another look at the picture. The woman leaning against the tree really did have very big breasts. He went to the mirror next to the door. Examined his face. From the front. Then in profile. When he turned his head he got cramp in his shoulder. He swore and shook his arm until the cramp eased off. Had another look at himself. That quiff over his forehead refused to go away. He tried to imagine himself with hair like The Black Wave. Put on a make-believe tie and black pointed shoes. Then he clenched his fist and gave The Black Wave in the mirror a punch.
Right on the nose. Broke it. Blood came pouring out.
Nobody stole Joel Gustafson’s rucksack without being punished.
Joel stared at the mirror. The Black Wave disappeared. The only thing left was himself. Nobody else.
He went back to the picture hanging on the wall. Stroked the woman with his hand.
The door opened. It was Samuel coming back. Joel gave a start and fell over backwards. Samuel gave him a funny look, but didn’t say anything.
When they left the hotel it was still drizzling. Samuel looked around, doubtfully.
‘It’s amazing how little you remember,’ he said. ‘I used to visit Stockholm quite a lot. In the old days.’
‘That way,’ said Joel, pointing. ‘That’s where most people are heading.’
Joel was surprised at how big a hurry everybody seemed to be in. Where on earth were all these people going to?
When they had found a department store and Joel had seen an escalator for the first time in his life, he wondered why people were even running on that, when the stairs were moving anyway.
They eventually came to the floor with men’s clothing. Both Joel and his father turned pale when they saw the price tags.
‘Let’s go,’ said Joel. ‘There must be cheaper clothes than these in other shops.’
By the time they emerged into the street it had started raining again.
Joel had started to dislike Stockholm. This wasn’t how he had imagined it. Crowds of people, loud noise everywhere, high prices and rain that never seemed to stop.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about his rucksack. Stockholm had sent The Black Wave to welcome him. With a sneer.
‘We must have something to eat now,’ said Samuel. ‘I noticed a licensed café on the way here.’
They hurried through the rain and came to the café entrance. Once they were inside, Joel felt at home. The place smelled the same as the bar back home where he sometimes sold newspapers or went to fetch Samuel when he’d had too much to drink. The waitresses wore the same black and white clothes as Sara, and he recognised the stale smell of rain, wet wool and tobacco. They found an empty table and sat down. Joel was already worried that they wouldn’t have enough money. A waitress brought them a menu. Joel leaned over the table to be able to read the menu. Not the choices on offer, but what they cost.
‘We can afford this,’ said Samuel. ‘Beef stew.’
Joel didn’t like beef stew. But he didn’t say anything.
By the time they finished eating, it had stopped raining again. Whenever the door opened Joel could see the sun shining.
They had eaten in silence. Joel had been thinking about his rucksack. He didn’t know what Samuel had been thinking about.
Samuel paid and put his wallet away in the inside pocket of his coat.
‘Now we must find a decent map,’ he said. ‘Then we can look for the shop where she works.’
Joel was surprised.
‘Shouldn’t we start by looking for where she lives?’
‘Lots of people go in and out of a block of flats,’ said Samuel. ‘But there won’t be nearly as many standing behind the counter in a shop.’
Joel could see his point.
‘I thought you said you would recognise her?’
‘Maybe we shouldn’t be over-confident about that,’ said Samuel hesitantly. ‘It’s best to be on the safe side.’
The only way of being on the safe side would have been not to come here in the first place, Joel thought angrily.
It was the rucksack again. And The Black Wave.
They found a bookshop that sold maps. They bought the cheapest one Samuel could find. Then they sat down on a park bench that had had time to dry out, and unfolded the map.
There was Medborgarplatsen. And here was where they were now.
‘There must be a tram that goes there,’ said Samuel.
But Joel had noticed something else. If they walked, they would pass by the quay where boats were moored.
‘Let’s walk,’ he said. ‘It can’t be all that far. And it’s not very late.’
He pointed at a clock outside a watchmaker’s shop. It said seven minutes past twelve.