He produced one of his skinny hands from under the covers and pointed at all the tubes and bottles.
‘They’ve given me some excellent medicine. That sorts everything out.’
‘But you said it was incurable?’
‘I mean it deals with the pain.’
‘What else did they say?’
‘There wasn’t much more they could say. If it’s incurable, that’s that.’
‘Are you going to die?’
Joel wished he could have eaten his words.
But strangely enough, Samuel only laughed.
‘I’m not going to die,’ he said. ‘Not while you’re here at home, at least. You can still go on living even if you’ve got something incurable. I actually think I’ve been feeling better these last few days. It might go away, even if it is incurable.’
‘Yes,’ said Joel.
‘For God’s sake,’ said Samuel. ‘People go on living even if they have no arms or legs. It would be a poor show if I couldn’t go on living without a liver. Don’t you think?’
Was that a real question? Or was Samuel convinced that he was right? Joel didn’t know.
And so he merely nodded.
He agreed. With whatever it was that Samuel thought.
Samuel was trying to raise himself into a sitting position.
‘There must be something to eat,’ he said.
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘But you must want a cup of coffee, eh? And then I want to hear all about what you’ve been doing.’
‘That can wait until tomorrow.’
Samuel sank back into the pillows.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘That can wait. I’m a bit tired.’
‘Can I get you anything?’
Samuel looked at his glass.
‘A drop of water. That’s all.’
Joel took the glass to the kitchen. Perhaps it’s possible to live without a liver. Joel didn’t understand why you needed a liver. And where was it? In the stomach somewhere?
When he’d given Samuel his glass of water, he went back to the kitchen and unpacked the drum. It was quite small. The skin was brown, and the drum was a hollowed out piece of tree trunk.
Samuel put on his glasses and examined it carefully.
‘It’s terrific,’ he said.
He tentatively tapped his fingers on the skin.
‘Sounds good,’ he said. ‘A real drum.’
Joel wondered why he’d bought it. Why on earth had he bought Samuel a drum? Couldn’t he have thought of something better?
‘Perhaps I can learn to play it,’ said Samuel. ‘Become a drummer in my old age.’
‘I’d thought of buying you a monkey skin,’ said Joel. ‘But I didn’t get much time on shore leave.’
‘A drum’s fine,’ said Samuel. ‘I’ve always wanted a real African drum.’
Joel knew that wasn’t true. It was just Samuel’s way of saying thank you.
Joel put the drum on the floor.
‘I want to know everything tomorrow,’ said Samuel. ‘But I think I’d better go to sleep now. All this medicine makes me sleepy.’
‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ said Joel.
‘I lie here thinking,’ said Samuel. ‘When I can’t sleep, it’s as if the house were a ship. And I can hear the anchor being lifted, and the house sails out of the harbour.’
He shook his head.
‘Funny how childish you can get sometimes.’
Joel stood up.
‘I hope you can get some sleep.’
‘I’m glad you’ve come. We can talk more tomorrow.’
‘Yes, we can talk tomorrow.’
Joel went to his room.
Everything was still there. The bed, the table, the chair, the alarm clock, the roller blind. Just the same as when he’d left it. It felt as if that was a long time ago. He lay down on top of the bed. There was a creaking and knocking in the wall beside his head. The cold was singing in the wooden beams behind the wallpaper.
Joel tried to understand the situation. Samuel was incurably ill. But he thought he might be able to go on living even so. He didn’t seem to be afraid. If you’re going to die, surely that must instil fear? Joel couldn’t imagine any other possibility.
He listened for Samuel’s snores. But everything was totally silent.
So Samuel has had the same dream as I had, Joel thought. He’s dreamt that the house was a ship. That casts off and floats down the river towards the sea. This flat is the bridge. Captain Samuel Gustafson. First Mate Joel Gustafson. A father and son who can steer the ship through the worst hurricanes imaginable.
That was a remarkable thought for Joel. That he and Samuel had experienced the same dreams. They’d both transformed this ramshackle, rickety old house into a ship.
Joel got up and tiptoed into the kitchen. Samuel had switched off the light. The door was ajar, just as Joel had left it. Samuel still hadn’t started snoring. But Joel could hear that he was asleep. His breathing in the darkness of his room was deep and heavy.
Joel crept up onto the window seat. It was barely big enough to hold him now. A streetlight illuminated the deserted road. It was minus 32 degrees now. Midwinter. Joel shuddered. And thought about Liberia. And the girl who had waved to him.
Before he knew where he was, he had fallen asleep. When he was woken up by cramp in his leg, he had no idea where he was. Then the penny dropped. And he could hear Samuel snoring.
I must find out if you can go on living with a liver that’s incurably damaged, Joel thought. That’s the very first thing I need to do.
Joel woke up the next morning and heard Samuel clattering away in the kitchen. He investigated and found Samuel making porridge. But he hadn’t got dressed. He was wearing his old dressing gown over his pyjamas.
‘Cold water in the pan,’ he said with a smile.
Joel couldn’t believe that Samuel had a life-threatening illness. Perhaps it was incurable. But was it life-threatening?
When they’d finished breakfast Samuel wanted to talk about what Joel had experienced during his first months as a sailor.
‘I’ll tell you all about that later,’ said Joel. ‘I have a few things I must see to first.’
It was still very cold when he left the house. He set off up the hill to the hospital. There were several people about now. But he didn’t see them. He burrowed his chin down into his jacket, and walked as fast as he could. But after a while, he paused. Why was he going to the hospital? There were easier ways of finding out what a liver was. He turned round and started retracing his steps.
He didn’t stop until he’d come to the slaughterhouse, on the very edge of the town. He’d worked there as an errand boy the previous summer. He knew the boss and several of the slaughtermen. He stamped his feet to shake off the snow and went into the office. The boss was called Herbert Lundgren, and had a freckled face despite the fact that he was nearly sixty. He was wearing a white coat and a peaked cap.
‘Joel?’ he said. ‘I heard you’d gone to sea?’
‘So I have. I’m just visiting.’
Lundgren frowned.
‘I heard that Samuel was ill. How is he?’
‘He’s fine. But that’s why I’ve come. I want to know what a liver is.’
‘A liver?’
‘Yes. Where it is, and what it does.’
‘Why do you want to know that?’
‘Samuel’s liver is damaged beyond repair.’
Lundgren said nothing.
‘But Samuel thinks he can carry on living even so.’
‘Maybe he can,’ said Lundgren slowly. ‘I’m not a doctor. I don’t really know about such things.’
‘Where is your liver?’
Lundgren pointed to the side of his stomach.
‘That’s all I wanted to know.’
Joel put his woolly hat back on, and started wrapping his scarf round his face.
‘There’s one thing you ought to be clear about,’ said Lundgren.