‘I’ll be on my own,’ said Samuel again.
Joel would have liked to hit him. Shout at him. But first of all Samuel would have to stop feeling sorry for himself.
Anything was better than that.
‘Let’s go out,’ he said. ‘And you can have a beer. But only one. If you drink more than one, I’ll leave you to it.’
Samuel stood up.
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ he said. ‘When you’re in Stockholm, you shouldn’t just sit around in a hotel room.’
They went to the usual bar.
Samuel had a Pilsner. Joel had lemonade.
There wasn’t anything much to say now. The decision had been made. Both Samuel and Joel were well aware of that.
But Joel couldn’t help thinking that he might just as well go back home with Samuel. How would Samuel be able to manage on his own? How would he get enough to eat? Who would do the shopping? Who would drag him home when he’d been out drinking?
Joel tried to think of a solution. But there wasn’t one.
He wasn’t the only one who was beginning to grow up. Samuel would have to learn how to look after himself as well.
Joel allowed Samuel to have two beers. But no more.
Then they went back to the hotel.
They lay awake for a long time.
The light was turned off. And neither of them spoke.
Samuel’s train left at 15.22.
By then Joel knew that he could stay with Jenny. He’d phoned her in the morning. It was Eva who answered this time, and she fetched Jenny.
She hadn’t received Joel’s letter, but she said yes as soon as he asked her if he could stay there for a couple of nights while he waited for his seaman’s discharge book and a position on a cargo ship.
Samuel was sitting waiting on a sofa in the lobby. He had paid for the room. He’d placed his suitcase in a storage room, having first mended the handle again.
‘I tried to repair it,’ said Joel. ‘But I made a mess of it.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Samuel. ‘It’s an old case. Besides, I don’t do much travelling.’
Samuel didn’t have a lot to say that morning. Even less than usual. But he shook his head when Joel asked if he had stomach pains.
When they’d finished breakfast they took a tram to Värtahamnen. The MS Karmas had already sailed. Another ship was just berthing. It was flying a flag that Joel knew was Belgian. The MS Gent. Joel glanced surreptitiously at Samuel. Didn’t he feel the urge now? To walk up the gangway that was slowly being lowered? But Samuel displayed no emotions. It was as if his eyes were asleep.
Afterwards, in the tram, Samuel asked Joel what kind of work he wanted to do. Did he want to be on deck, or in the engine room? Or would he become a steward?
‘I’ll take whatever’s on offer,’ Joel said. ‘You’ve got to start somewhere.’
‘I always used to work on deck,’ said Samuel. ‘It was too hot and noisy in the engine room. I always worked on deck.’
‘I’ll take whatever’s on offer,’ said Joel again.
They got off at Stureplan, and realised they had no idea what to do next. It was a matter of waiting for several hours until the train left.
Joel was both worried and excited. All the time he was afraid that he’d suddenly change his mind.
They strolled around along the quays where the smaller boats were moored. Joel kept thinking he ought to say something. But what? And didn’t Samuel have any good advice to give him?
They wandered about, dragging behind them a heavy cargo of silence.
Eventually it was time to collect Samuel’s suitcase and head for the station.
When they got there Joel went to the police office and asked about his rucksack. But it was still missing. As was The Black Wave.
Samuel took out his wallet and gave Joel ninety kronor.
‘That’s all I’ve got,’ he said.
Joel didn’t want to accept the money. There was nothing he needed.
‘You must have a change of clothes or two,’ said Samuel. ‘You should really have a kit bag, but you can buy one of those after you’ve started to get paid.’
Then they found the right platform. The train hadn’t come in yet.
‘You’re doing the right thing,’ said Samuel. ‘It’s right for you to go to sea. But I don’t have the strength. Not at the moment.’
‘I hope you can find somebody to cook for you.’
‘That will sort itself out, no doubt.’
‘Don’t forget to add salt to the potatoes when you boil them. And don’t turn the heat too high.’
Samuel nodded.
‘I’ll remember that.’
‘When I boil your eggs I usually count up to 200. Then they turn out exactly as you like them.’
‘Do you count slowly or fast?’
Joel started counting, to demonstrate. Samuel nodded. He’d bear that in mind.
‘You must remember to pour some cold water into the saucepan after you’ve made porridge. Otherwise it will be impossible to wash it up properly.’
Samuel promised to do as Joel said. And then the train clattered in.
They shook hands. They both had lumps in their throats.
‘I’ll write,’ said Joel. ‘As soon as I know which boat I’ll be sailing on.’
‘I’ll remember what you said about the porridge pan,’ said Samuel. ‘Cold water. Otherwise it’ll be difficult to wash it up.’
That was all they had time for.
Samuel boarded the train. The doors were closed. Samuel had opened a window.
‘Did you say it was 200 you counted up to?’
‘Yes.’
The train shuddered and started to move.
Samuel nodded and raised his hand.
‘I hope you aren’t seasick,’ he shouted.
Joel watched the train pulling out of the station.
For a moment he felt the urge to run after it and jump aboard the last carriage.
But it was too late now.
The train had already left.
Joel arrived at Östgötagatan 32 shortly after five o’clock. He’d bought some underclothes and a shirt. But no trainers. He still had forty kronor left. In his pocket was the toothbrush he’d bought that first day.
But that was all he had.
He’d dragged it out for as long as possible before coming here. He’d even wondered if he had enough money to stay at the hotel for another night.
Everything was happening so quickly. He had difficulty in keeping up with himself. It was as if his head was in one place and his body in another.
He’d also considered phoning Sonja Mattsson. But he decided not to. He didn’t dare. Everything was difficult enough without that.
All the time, he was thinking of Samuel. For each second that passed, they drifted further and further apart.
He’ll forget to add salt to the potatoes, Joel thought. He’ll never learn how to count so that the eggs are done as he likes them.
What I really ought to do is write it all down.
A cookery book from Joel to Samuel.
For dishes that won’t be all that good, but won’t get burnt and stick to the pan.
But there came a point when he couldn’t delay things any longer. Jenny Rydén and her daughters were no doubt wondering what had happened to him.
He entered through the front door. The Rydéns lived on the fourth floor. There was a lift, but Joel walked up the stairs. He wanted time to prepare himself.
Now he was going to meet his sisters.
Perhaps he ought to have brought presents for them as well.
He paused when he came to the last landing before the fourth floor. He sat down.
He wished he had a hiding place. A hide that could be folded up and stuffed into his pocket. And taken out again whenever necessary.
Just now was such a moment.
He needed a hiding place here on the staircase. Somewhere to which he could withdraw, suspend time, and think through all the things that had happened these last few days.