‘There was a man outside the hotel who said he came from Liberia.’
Samuel looked doubtfully at him.
‘Have you been talking to a black man? Could he speak Swedish?’
As soon as his dad said that, Joel remembered. How could he have forgotten? He’d always been top of the class in geography. How could he have forgotten that Liberia was in Africa?
‘Perhaps it was Lebanon,’ said Joel. ‘Or even Linköping. He was difficult to understand.’
‘What did he want?’
‘He was trying to sell a magazine. A Christmas magazine.’
‘In the middle of summer?’
Joel realised that he’d stumbled into a totally unnecessary maze of lies. He would have to get out of it as quickly as possible.
‘It was from last year. And it was cheap. But I didn’t buy it.’
Samuel shook his head.
‘Let’s go and have dinner,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘And then I thought we could go to the cinema.’
Joel was surprised. That was a first. Samuel had never suggested that they should go to the pictures together. Samuel never went to the pictures anyway.
‘Why?’ asked Joel.
‘I thought it might be fun. Seeing as we’re in Stockholm.’
‘I thought we were here to look for Mummy Jenny. And to look at boats.’
‘I thought that could wait until tomorrow,’ said Samuel. ‘If we happened to bump into Jenny, I don’t think I could cope. Not until tomorrow.’
Joel understood. And he had a bad conscience. Samuel was afraid. He didn’t want to wait because he was lazy, but because he really was scared of meeting Mummy Jenny again.
‘OK, we’ll wait until tomorrow,’ said Joel.
They had dinner at the same place they’d been to earlier in the day. Afterwards they wandered down a wide street where there were lots of cinemas. Joel let Samuel choose.
‘Kirk Douglas is somebody I’ve heard of,’ said Samuel. ‘That film’s bound to be good.’
Joel thought it was bad. Nothing happened. The actors just hung around, talking. He found it hard to concentrate. He kept imagining he could see himself on the screen. Walking up and down a gangway.
‘That was a good film,’ said Samuel as they emerged into the street.
Joel said nothing.
On the way home they paused and bought a hot dog. Joel started to worry about how long Samuel’s money was going to last.
When they got back to the hotel the bald man was no longer there. Instead, a fat woman was sitting behind the desk.
‘Would you like a wake-up call?’ she asked.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Samuel. ‘We’ll wake up anyway.’
Samuel fell asleep the moment the light was switched off. But Joel lay awake. Astreetlamp was shining into the room through a gap in the curtains. And it was so noisy. Very different from home, where everything was so quiet. Where the only sound was the creaking from inside the walls.
The beam of light from outside illuminated the Celestine.
What’s Mummy Jenny doing just now? Joel asked himself. What’s she thinking about? Not about Samuel, that’s for sure. Nor about me.
She doesn’t know that we are so close by.
Joel pulled the covers up to his chin and tried to sleep. But there was no sleep in him. He tossed and turned. In the end he sat up. There was no point. He got out of bed and looked at Samuel’s watch. A quarter past eleven. As he walked to the window he cast a glance at the picture on the wall. The young man was still playing the violin. And the woman was still sitting under the tree. He opened the curtain slightly. No rain.
Then it dawned on him.
The night was waiting for him. He didn’t know how many times he’d roamed around the streets at night on his bike, but there was nothing to stop him wandering around the streets of Stockholm on foot tonight, looking for Mummy Jenny.
He got dressed as quietly as he could, then wrote another note for Samuel. To make sure it wasn’t overlooked he put it on Samuel’s pillow.
I can’t sleep. I’m going out. Back soon.
That’s all. No times. Samuel wouldn’t be able to work out how long he’d been away.
The corridor was deserted. He closed the door carefully behind him. He didn’t dare to take the lift. There were carpets on the stairs, so his footsteps wouldn’t be heard.
A radio was playing in reception. He paused on the stairs. Perhaps the woman behind the desk wouldn’t allow him to go out? Perhaps the law said you had to be in the hotel after eleven o’clock?
He tried to work out what to do.
But the solution came of its own accord. He could hear somebody snoring. He approached the desk. The snores were louder now. He peeped cautiously over the desk. The woman was asleep on a chair, asleep with her mouth open. He crouched down and hurried to the door. If it squeaked she might wake up. He took hold of the handle and eased the door open. Not a sound.
Now he was outside. He had remembered to take the map with him. It had dried out now, but it was crumpled. Then it occurred to him that perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to sneak around Stockholm at night with a map in your hand. He put it in his pocket and started walking. It was a warm summer’s night. Even though it was late there were a lot of people out in the streets. A tram clattered past. He could hear music coming from somewhere or other. On the other side of the street, two men were approaching, swaying unsteadily and trying to support each other.
He passed by the Royal Palace and came to the square where he’d failed to find a grocer’s shop. The pavement café was closed, the chairs and tables covered by a canvas sheet. There were fewer people about now. And not so much traffic. But he noticed a police car. He crouched down, as if trying to make himself invisible. The police car passed by. Joel stood in front of an illuminated shop window and took out the map. He found Östgötagatan. Left, right, then left again. He took a step forward. Then another. How many more metres would he have to go before he found himself standing outside Mummy Jenny’s home?
He tried to act like a grown-up. It was childish to wander around in the night, looking for a block of flats where a missing mum lived. But there again, it could be a grown-up thing to do. He remembered how Samuel had gone out roaming the streets when he had been madly in love with Sara.
He turned left, then right. He could hear a man and a woman arguing about money through an open window. He would never be like that. An adult arguing about money. On a warm summer’s night.
Then he stopped dead. What would happen if Samuel woke up? He might be so worried, he’d phone the police.
But then he calmed down. Samuel wouldn’t do that. In the first place he never woke up during the night. And besides, he knew that Joel could look after himself.
Left again. He’d soon be there. If the map was right. If the letter from Elinor was right. If what Samuel said was in the letter was right. If everything was right.
If in fact he really did have a mother called Jenny.
He looked at the street sign.
Östgötagatan.
It ought to be number 32. He crossed over the street, so that he was on the side with odd numbers.
First a brown building, then a red one with a furniture shop. Then a brown one, and another, then a grey one.
Then he was there.
He held his breath.
The number ‘32’ was on an oval plate over the front door, lit up by a lamp. He looked up at the façade. Nearly all the windows were dark. People were asleep. Mummy Jenny was asleep. Somewhere up there behind a window.
He put his hand over his mouth to stop himself shouting out her name.
But he would never do that. It happened sometimes that he did things without knowing why, but not anything like that. He would never stand in a street shouting out names.