Samuel seemed to notice that his son was angry. He seemed to shrink even more.
‘Maybe we can help each other to find our way,’ he said tentatively.
Joel was still upset.
‘I’ve never been to Stockholm before. How should I know where the exit is?’
Samuel didn’t answer. He looked round hesitantly, and then he suddenly seemed to make up his mind. Joel could see it coming. Samuel straightened his back with a little jerk, as if it was fitted with a clockwork mechanism that somebody had just wound up.
‘Anyway, I need a pee,’ he said, gesturing towards a notice that said ‘Toilets’. ‘You can keep an eye on my suitcase while I’m gone.’
Samuel stood up and walked away. Joel watched him. Noticed how he kept stopping to let people in a hurry pass by him. Joel pulled the suitcase towards him and put his hand over the broken handle. He was still ashamed. Had anybody seen him? Sitting there covering up the broken suitcase handle with his hand? Joel tried to look relaxed, but it was as if he was surrounded by a halo of light announcing that he didn’t belong here.
Samuel seemed to be away for a long time. Joel became more and more irritated. He wondered if he ought to go away and leave the suitcase to look after itself. In order to punish Samuel. But what exactly was it that Joel wanted to punish him for?
Thoughts were buzzing round and round inside his head. At the same time he was trying to take in everything that was happening all around him. A voice blared out from a loudspeaker, and there was a wheezing and screeching from a locomotive somewhere.
Somebody sat down beside him on the bench. It was a boy not much older than Joel. But he was wearing a suit, and a tie, and shiny black shoes. And his hair was not cut short. His hair was combed and gelled to form stiff black waves. The Black Wave, Joel thought. He shuffled slightly away from the boy. I hope he doesn’t say anything.
But he did, of course.
‘Hi!’ said The Black Wave.
‘Er, hello,’ said Joel.
The Black Wave eyed him curiously. Joel glanced towards the toilets. What he wanted least of all just now was for Samuel to come back.
Only a few seconds ago it would have been too late. Now, it had suddenly become too soon.
‘Are you going off somewhere?’ asked The Black Wave, running his hand over his hair.
‘I’ve just arrived,’ Joel mumbled.
The Black Wave didn’t say anything. He just kept on eyeing Joel. Then he produced a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket.
‘Do you smoke?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Joel.
And immediately asked himself why. It wouldn’t have done any harm to accept a cigarette.
The Black Wave lit one and blew a smoke ring.
‘Where have you come from?’ he asked.
‘From up north,’ said Joel.
‘I can hear that,’ said The Black Wave. ‘I can hear that very clearly. “From up north”.’ He imitated Joel’s pronunciation, and burst out laughing. Not nastily. It sounded most like a smoker’s cough.
‘Are you waiting for somebody?’ asked The Black Wave.
‘I’m waiting for my dad,’ said Joel.
‘Where’s he gone?’
‘He’s in the toilet.’
‘So your old man’s in the john, is he?’ said The Black Wave. ‘Maybe he’s nipped in there for a crafty drop of booze.’
Joel gave a start. How could this boy know that Joel’s father sometimes drank too much? And could it be true? Was Samuel in there drinking?
‘I’ll go and fetch him now,’ said Joel. ‘We’re in a bit of a hurry.’
‘I’ll bet you are,’ said The Black Wave. ‘Go on then, I’ll look after your things for you.’
Joel was just going to let go of the suitcase handle when he remembered that it was broken. He didn’t want The Black Wave to see that.
‘I expect the old man will want his suitcase,’ he said. ‘But you can keep an eye on my rucksack.’
The Black Wave smiled. It seemed to Joel that his luck was in — he’d met somebody who’d offered him a cigarette and was prepared to keep an eye on his rucksack for him. Now he only had two things to carry: Samuel’s suitcase and the box with the Celestine.
‘I won’t be a minute,’ said Joel, getting to his feet.
When Joel entered the toilets, he stopped short, looking around in confusion. There were two rows of cubicles. Most of the doors were closed. He had no idea which one Samuel was in. It seemed to him that he might just as well leave, and wait for Samuel to come when he was ready. But there again, he ought to tell Samuel that The Black Wave was sitting out there in the concourse, looking after Joel’s rucksack.
Joel waited. Doors opened. He suddenly started to wonder how much crap was flushed down all those lavatories in a single day. The thought made him want to burst out laughing.
An attendant eyed him up and down, suspiciously.
‘Are you waiting for somebody?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Joel. ‘My dad.’
At that very moment the door of the cubicle furthest away opened, and Samuel emerged. He didn’t see Joel standing there. He went to the sink and washed his hands. He looked tired. Then he turned round and caught sight of Joel.
‘Where’s your rucksack?’ he asked.
‘Out there. Somebody’s looking after it.’
Samuel frowned.
‘Who?’
It occurred to Joel that he didn’t know The Black Wave’s name.
‘You don’t always have to know what people are called,’ he said angrily. ‘He volunteered to keep an eye on my rucksack while I went to look for you.’
‘I was a bit constipated,’ said Samuel. ‘That happens sometimes.’
Then he looked sternly at Joel.
‘Are you telling me that you’ve left your rucksack with somebody you don’t know?’
Joel could see that Samuel’s worry was genuine. That made him feel a bit worried as well.
They left the toilets.
The bench was empty. There was no sign of The Black Wave or the rucksack.
Samuel looked at Joel.
‘Where’s your rucksack, then?’
Joel could feel the tears forming in his eyes. He pointed to the bench.
‘There,’ he said. ‘But he’s disappeared. And so has my rucksack.’
‘That’s blown it!’ said Samuel. ‘You can’t trust all and sundry. He’s obviously nicked your rucksack.’
Joel was struggling to hold back the tears. He realised how stupid he’d been. The Black Wave had sat down on the bench next to Joel in order to try and steal the suitcase and the cardboard box and the rucksack. He’d seen immediately that Joel was in town for the first time. And what had he asked about? Are you going off somewhere? And what had Joel told him? I’ve just arrived. From up north.
How stupid could you get?
‘We’re in a bit of a mess now,’ said Samuel. ‘We’d better find a policeman and report this.’
‘Maybe he’s still around somewhere,’ said Joel.
‘No chance,’ said Samuel. ‘You can bet your life there’ll be no trace of him.’
‘But what use would my rucksack be to him?’ Joel asked. ‘There was nothing in it. Only my old clothes.’
‘A good question,’ said Samuel. ‘But we’re not going to get an answer.’
Samuel walked purposefully towards a police constable who was patrolling the concourse. He explained what had happened. Joel noticed that Samuel was different now. It was as if his back had straightened itself out. The policeman escorted them to the police station. Another officer noted down everything Joel said. What the rucksack looked like. And what had been inside it.
But what the policeman wanted to know most of all was what The Black Wave had looked like.
Joel could remember him well. The shirt and the suit, the tie and the pointed shoes.
When they finished, Samuel signed a document.