Shadows in the Twilight (5 page)

They are the ones, Joel thought.

One of them could become Gertrud's husband!

He would have liked to continue spying on them
through the crack in the doors, but Ludde and Sara were
striding back towards the kitchen again. Bouncer Nyberg
had thrown out the two troublemakers through the big
front door. Karin and Hilda were busy clearing up after
the fight.

Joel scurried back to his chair.

Ludde returned to the sink, and started by dropping a
plate that smashed on the floor. Sara flopped down on
her chair, produced a handkerchief from her cleavage
and mopped her face.

'What happened?' asked Joel, trying to give the
impression that he'd been sitting on his chair all the time.

Sara leaned forward and whispered:

'I saw you peeping out through the doors.'

Joel blushed. He felt as if he'd turned red all the way
from his stomach up to his forehead.

His first reaction was to deny that he'd been looking.

But he changed his mind immediately. He'd only
have blushed even more.

'It wasn't all that serious,' said Sara. 'When they've
cooled down they'll be as meek as lambs again.'

'Why did they start fighting?' Joel wondered. He
didn't like the fact that Sara had caught him out.

'I've no idea,' said Sara with a shrug. 'Have you?'

The latter question was directed at Karin, who had
just come in through the swing doors with a shovel in
her hand.

'Do I have any idea about what?' asked Karin.

'Why they were fighting?'

Karin emptied her shovel into a bin standing between
the stove and the sink where Ludde was splashing about
with his plates and glasses.

'It was something to do with a girl,' said Karin.
'Blokes only fight if there's a girl involved, don't they?'

Joel listened with his eyes open wide.

'I think they're both sweet on the same girl,' said
Karin. 'That Anneli who works in the shoe shop.'

'Is she anything to fight over?' wondered Hilda, who
had joined them in the kitchen.

She turned to look at Joel.

'Or what do you think, Joel?' she asked. 'Surely a
shop assistant in a shoe shop isn't worth fighting over?'

All the waitresses laughed, and Ludde dropped
another glass on the floor.

Joel could feel himself blushing again. He thought he
would have to say something that showed he'd understood
what they were getting at.

'I shall never fight over anybody who sells shoes,' he
said. 'Never.'

They all laughed again, and Hilda came up to pat his
head. Joel tried to shrink away, but she left her hand
there and ruffled his hair.

'He's as nice as Rolf and David,' she said. 'The girls
who get them can consider themselves lucky.'

Then she sat down at the table alongside Sara and Karin.
Joel listened to what they said. He had realised that it was
sometimes important to hear what grown-ups were saying.
They sometimes said things you could learn something
from. Not very often. But sometimes. Such as now.

It dawned on Joel that they were talking about the two
young men sitting at a table by themselves and paying
no attention at all to the violent fight taking place.

'If only I were a bit younger,' sighed Hilda as she
massaged her tired feet.

'I wish they'd been my sons,' said Karin.

Sara said nothing. But she nodded in agreement. All
the time Ludde was clattering away at the sink.

Joel stood up and tried to sneak out of the door
without being seen.

He didn't see the bucket standing next to his chair,
and stumbled over it. He fell headlong and ended up in
the middle of the three waitresses.

'A boy's paying us a flying visit,' said Hilda with a
laugh.

Joel could feel that he was blushing again.

He had blushed more today than he'd ever done before.

Karin stood up, took her tray and vanished through
the swing doors again.

Hilda went to the storeroom and began carrying in
new crates of beer.

'What was it you were going to ask me about?' Sara
wondered.

'Does one of them look like the caviar tube?' asked Joel.

Sara looked at him in astonishment.

'What do you mean? The caviar tube? Who's supposed
to look like a caviar tube?'

'David or Rolf? Like the boy on the caviar tube?'

Then the penny dropped. She burst out laughing and
slapped her knee.

'You must be referring to David,' she said. 'You're
right, he does look like the lad with the mop of blond
hair on the caviar tube.'

'I just wondered,' said Joel. 'I must be off. 'Bye!'

And he hurried out of the door before Sara had time
to ask him anything else.

It was already starting to get dark outside. Joel raised
the collar of his jacket and ran round the corner to check
the time on the church clock.

Five o'clock already!

He had better hurry up and put the potatoes on.
Samuel was usually home by six at the latest. The
potatoes had to be ready by then.

David and Rolf would have to wait. He was in a
hurry. . .

It was evening. Joel could hear Samuel in the room next
door listening to the radio. Joel was sitting like a tailor
on his bed, writing up the diary he had taken from the
Celestine's
showcase.

He wasn't actually writing, in fact. He'd already
finished.

'
There was trouble at the bar today
. . .'

That's as far as he'd got. He'd had the feeling that it
was silly, keeping a diary. Or logbook, as he used to call
the little book with a black cover. He started reading it
instead. He had glued the edges of some pages and
drawn a red stamp on them, saying that what was written
there had to be kept secret for a year. But he hadn't paid
any attention to that. Declaring part of your own diary
secret was childish and not something anybody who
would soon be twelve could indulge in.

TSFTDTHFAS, it said on the cover.

'
The Search for the Dog That Headed for a Star
.'

His secret society.

He read bits here and there in the book and thought
that all he had written about seemed to have happened a
very long time ago. In fact, it was only just over six
months ago. Barely even that.

He didn't like the idea of time passing so quickly. Of
everything changing so quickly. Not least himself. He
would really prefer everything to stay the same. You
ought to be able to pick out a day when everything had
gone well and say: It's always going to be like this!

But that wasn't possible! Why wasn't it possible?

Joel sighed and dropped the diary on the bed in front
of him.

Perhaps that was the way you became a grown-up?
By realising that there was no such thing as a day that
could never be changed?

Perhaps that's why so many grown-ups looked so
tired and miserable? Because they knew that's the way
things are?

He jumped impatiently off the bed and lay stretched
out on the floor, looking at the maps he had cut up. He
tried to think a bit more about the geography game. But
that wasn't much fun either. Then he lay on his back and
stared up at the ceiling. He traced the outlines of the
damp patches with his eyes.

He suddenly felt as if he were lying underneath the
bus again.

Just think if he'd died!

He wouldn't have been able to smell the awful
stench in Simon Windstorm's house any more. Or to sit
with his dad, Samuel, at the kitchen table and sail the
seven seas.

He would never have fallen asleep again, never
woken up.

He didn't like those thoughts. They were scurrying
around in his head like ants. He sat up and thought he
ought to go to bed now.

What he would have liked to do most of all would
have been to give up all thoughts of doing a good deed.
Gertrud could find herself a man without his help, if she
wanted one. She could brick herself into the church
tower and wait for somebody to climb up to her. . .

Curse that miracle, he thought.

In any case, surely it should be Eklund who ought to
do a good deed?

He was the one who caused it all, and was lucky
enough not to have killed a human being with his bus.

But deep down, Joel knew that he was the one who
would have to do a good deed. So he might as well get
it over with as soon as possible.

He clambered back onto his bed and started writing in
his diary:

'
Today I, Joel Gustafson, who don't yet have a
nickname, have decided that Gertrud must have a man.
Finding one for her will be my good deed in return for
the Miracle. I have chosen David or Rolf to become her
husband. All I have to do now is to establish which one
of them is most suitable
.'

He read through what he had written. That would do.
It was more than enough.

'Shouldn't you be going to bed now, Joel?' shouted
Samuel from his room. Joel could hear that he had
adjusted the radio so that there was no programme, only
static. His dad used to do that when he wanted to listen
to the sea.

'In a minute,' Joel shouted in reply. 'I've started.'

Although the town they lived in was very small, he
had never seen David and Rolf before. He didn't know
their surnames, where they lived or what their work was.

What would he do if they lived a hundred miles away?

I'll have to start tomorrow, he thought. I'll ask Otto.
He knows everybody's name.

He went to the kitchen and replaced the diary in the
Celestine's
showcase. Then he got undressed, brushed
his teeth and settled down in bed.

At first it was so cold that he had to tense every
muscle in his body. But it gradually grew warmer under
the covers.

'I'm in bed now,' he shouted to Samuel.

His dad came shuffling into Joel's room in his slippers.

'Dad,' said Joel, 'have you ever had a nickname?'

Samuel looked at him in surprise.

'Why do you ask that?'

'I just wondered.'

Samuel shook his head.

'When I was a sailor I suppose there were a few shipmates
who called me Sam,' he said. 'But you can hardly
call that a nickname.'

'Has Mum got a nickname?' Joel asked.

He was surprised by the question. It just came tumbling
out of its own accord.

Samuel looked serious.

'No,' he said. 'She was called Jenny. Nothing else.'

Joel sat bolt upright.

'That's wrong,' he said.

'What's wrong?' asked Samuel in surprise.

'It's not "she was called Jenny",' he said. 'She
is
called Jenny.'

Samuel nodded slowly.

'Yes,' he said. 'She is called Jenny. You're right. Go
to sleep now.'

Samuel stroked him lightly over the cheek, and went
back to his own room, then into the kitchen. He left the
kitchen door ajar. A narrow strip of light shone onto
Joel's bed.

Joel always used to lie and contemplate that strip of
light before going to sleep.

He could hear Samuel pouring warm water into the
washbasin.

It was a procedure that never changed. It was the same
night after night, for as long as Joel could remember.

He could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

The last thought he had before falling asleep was that
he wasn't looking forward to asking Otto about David's
and Rolf's surnames. Or where they lived.

You should always steer well clear of Otto. He teased
and bullied everybody, and did stupid things.

But who else could he ask?

He rolled over to face the wall, and curled up under
the covers.

The next day he would start his hunt for the Caviar
Man and his friend.

It turned out just as Joel had foreseen.

Needless to say, Otto caused endless problems,

It was the second break when Joel plucked up
enough courage to approach Otto in the playground.
Otto was busy trying to exchange a rusty sheath-knife
for a pair of old motorbike gloves. Joel hung back until
the deal had been settled. He watched Otto stuff the
gloves into his jacket pocket with a self-satisfied grin,
then went up to him.

'I'd like a word with you,' Joel said.

Otto gave him a withering look.

'You mean you can come out with words?' he said scornfully.
'I thought small fry like you could only whimper.'

Joel was tempted to sock him one, but manfully
refrained. That was exactly what Otto wanted: for boys
smaller than himself to start a fight. Then he could beat
them up and later defend himself by saying that he
wasn't the one who'd started it.

'I'd like to ask you something,' said Joel. 'If you can
give me an answer, I'll give you two picture cards.'

Joel knew that Otto collected picture cards of footballers.
He'd made up his mind to sacrifice the pictures
he'd found inside the packs of pastilles he'd been given
by Sara.

Otto was still suspicious.

'Honest,' said Joel. 'I'm not having you on.'

'If you are, you'll get a good thumping,' said Otto,
setting off for the back of the school where the bicycle
sheds were.

The bicycle sheds were the school's law courts. Only
the senior boys were allowed to go there. Girls were
forbidden. And no junior boys, unless they were
accompanied by a senior.

'Show me the pictures,' said Otto, turning to face Joel.

Joel knew that the situation was now crucial. If he
wasn't careful, Otto would snatch the picture cards and
run off without having answered any questions. That's
why he took a step backwards, and produced just one of
the pictures.

'That's only one,' said Otto.

'I have another one,' said Joel. 'But I want an answer
to my questions first.'

'What questions?'

Joel shook his head and continued round the corner.
He leaned against the wall of the bicycle shed and
forced himself to look Otto in the eye.

'There are two young men called Rolf and David,'
Joel said. 'They spend a lot of time in the bar. One of
them looks like the fair-haired youth on the Kalle's
Caviar tube. What are their surnames? Where do they
live? Where do they work?'

'That's three questions,' said Otto with a grin. 'I want
three picture cards.'

Joel couldn't think of a good answer.

'If you ask three questions, you can have one answer
free,' he said somewhat hesitantly.

Otto was still grinning.

'Who says so?'

'That's the way it is in the big wide world,' said Joel.
'But maybe you don't know how it is in the big wide
world?'

That was a dangerous answer. Otto could turn nasty
and start fighting. Joel took his hands out of his pockets
and prepared to defend himself.

But Otto just kept on grinning.

'Of course I know how it is in the big wide world,' he
said. 'Don't think you can teach me anything.'

I fooled him, Joel thought triumphantly. Not many
people manage to do that!

'Why do you want to know about them?' said Otto.

'That's none of your business.'

'Then I shan't tell you.'

'Then you won't get any picture cards.'

Otto shrugged.

'Rolf's name is Person,' he said. 'He lives near the
Highways Department workshops, with his mum. He
does any work that comes along.'

'What do you mean, any work that comes along?'

'I mean what I say! Any work that comes along!'

Joel realised that Otto didn't know.

'What about the other one?' he asked.

'I think his name's Lundberg,' said Otto. 'He works
for the council, catching rats.'

Joel was very doubtful. He'd never heard of anybody
being paid for catching rats.

'Come on, nobody works as a rat-catcher!'

'Of course they do! Are you suggesting that I'm
telling lies?'

Otto took a step forward and looked threatening.

'Of course I don't think you're lying,' said Joel, but
he couldn't stop his voice from shaking.

'He keeps the sewers clean. He lives in a shed in Lasse
the Cabbie's back yard. If you know where that is.'

'Of course I know where Lasse the Cabbie lives!'

Otto held out his giant-sized hand.

'The picture cards,' he said.

Joel took them out of his jacket pocket and put them
in Otto's hand. Otto put them in his inside pocket. Then
he stepped forward and grabbed hold of the lapels of
Joel's jacket.

'Now you're going to get a good thumping,' he said.

At that very moment the bell rang. Break was over.

Otto let go of Joel's jacket.

'Another time,' he said. 'I'll give you a good thumping
some other time. Because you ask too many questions.'

The rest of the day Joel had no time to think about
what Otto had told him. Miss Nederström was in a bad
mood, and Joel was no longer sure that his miracle
would protect him from her wrath.

After school Joel went with some of his classmates to
take a look at a new car that was on show in Krage's Car
Showrooms. It was a shiny black Pontiac, and they
stood for ages gaping through the window, wondering
who would be able to afford a car like that.

It was quite late by the time Joel got home and started
peeling the potatoes.

Only then did he remember that today was the day he
ought to have collected his bicycle that had been in for
repairs.

How on earth could he have forgotten his bike?

He looked at the kitchen clock. If he ran he still had
time to get to the cycle shop before it closed. But then
he remembered that he'd forgotten to ask Samuel for
some money that morning. And he knew that the owner
of the cycle shop never allowed credit.

The bike would have to wait until tomorrow.

He sat down on the kitchen bench and thought about
what Otto had said. But which one should he start
with? Rolf or David? Before he could make up his
mind which of them was best for Gertrud, he would
have to spy on them.

He jumped down from the kitchen bench, went into
the hall and started to search through Samuel's pockets.
He found a five-öre piece in one of them. He took it
into the kitchen and decided that Rolf was heads, and
David was tails. Then he spun the coin round on the
kitchen table.

Heads. He would start with Rolf . . .

'Are you going out again? You go running off every
night nowadays!' said Samuel after dinner, when Joel
started pulling on his wellingtons.

'I won't be long,' said Joel.

'Where are you going?'

Joel thought quickly.

'To Eva-Lisa's,' he said. It was the best answer he
could come up with.

Samuel lowered his newspaper and peered at Joel
over his reading glasses.

'You're spending a lot of time round at her place.
Have you started getting interested in girls already?'

Joel blushed.

He turned his back on Samuel as he buttoned up his
jacket.

'Yes,' he said. 'I'm probably going to marry her in a
few years' time.'

Then he left.

He could see from the corner of his eye how Samuel
gaped in astonishment and his chin almost hit his neck.

Serves him right for asking an unnecessary question,
Joel thought cheerfully.

It was cold outside. The sky was clear and the stars
twinkling. Joel didn't really know how he was going to
go about spying on Rolf, to find out if he was a suitable
man for Gertrud.

Should he ring the doorbell, introduce himself and
explain how things were? That he was looking for a
suitable husband for Gertrud? That doing so was to be
his good deed in return for shaking off the Miracle that
he had experienced?

No, he couldn't do that, of course.

Rolf would think that he had a screw loose.

Joel crept though the hole in the Pharmacy fence that
he had once made himself, using an old pair of secateurs.
Then he followed the row of currant bushes facing the
courtyard in front of the furniture shop. There was a little
shed there, and if he climbed onto its roof he would be
able to see the house behind the Highways Department
workshops where Rolf lived with his mother. He crept
cautiously along the row of currant bushes. The furniture
dealer had quite a temper, and Joel had learnt to avoid
annoying him. He listened carefully in the darkness. Then
he heaved himself up onto the roof. He had worked out
that Rolf must live on the ground floor, and there was a
retired schoolmistress in the flat upstairs. Those were the
only two flats in the building.

He peered at the ground floor windows. It was getting
exciting now.

He slowly raised his head and saw the fires glowing
in the distance. General Custer in person had given him
this mission. He couldn't return until he had reconnoitred
all aspects of the Red Indian camp. He was well
aware that if he was captured, there would be no going
back. He would die.

He could see right in through the windows. The
curtains were not drawn. A woman was sitting in a chair,
knitting. A kitten was playing with the ball of wool at
her feet. Joel was close enough to see that she was
making a pair of gloves. A pair of red gloves.

But where was Rolf? Joel shifted his gaze to the next
window.

There he was!

He was in the kitchen, doing the washing up. Wearing
an apron.

Joel pulled a face.

A man standing at the sink and doing the washing up
was not what he'd had in mind for Gertrud. He might
just as well.

The enemy is weak, he thought. Just now the Red
Indian camp contains nothing but old ladies. He could
go back to the General and advise him to attack
immediately, before the men had returned from their
hunting expedition on the distant prairie.

He stayed on the roof for a while longer. But nothing
happened. The woman on the chair knitted. The kitten
played. And Rolf washed up. When he'd finished, he
served his mother a cup of coffee. Then he lay down on
the sofa to read the newspaper. The same paper that
Samuel used to read. Nothing exciting. Not a magazine
about motor cars, or sport. Just the local newspaper that
was full of pictures of people waving or holding hands.

Joel started to feel cold, so he jumped down from the
shed roof.

Rolf was not the man. Joel was tempted to send Rolf
a secret message, telling him he was not up to scratch. A
message Joel would sign with his own blood.

He made his way slowly back to the street, and
trudged back home.

What would he do if David, the Caviar Man, turned
out to be equally boring?

What would he need to do then, in order to find a man
for Gertrud.

He had no idea.

When he woke up next morning, the ground was white
with frost.

Joel glared crossly out of the window. Perhaps it
wasn't real snow, nor was it real winter yet; but it was
too early even so.

Earlier in the year Joel had really looked forward to
the first snow. There was something special about the
morning when he raised the blind and saw the first snow
of the winter. But not when it was this early. Not when
it was still only September.

Samuel also heaved a sigh.

'Ah well,' he said. 'Before long we'll have to start
plodding through the snow.'

Joel wondered if he ought to say what he was
thinking – that if Samuel hadn't been stupid enough to
stop being a sailor, he could have been standing on a
swaying deck under a Caribbean sky. Not just Samuel,
but Joel as well.

But he didn't say it. Not when he needed to ask for
money to pay for the bicycle repairs.

Samuel produced his purse and handed him a five-kronor
note.

'I don't think that'll be enough,' said Joel. 'It'll cost
ten at least.'

Samuel sighed and gave him a tenner instead.

Samuel always sighed when Joel asked for money.
Joel had resolved never to sigh when any children he
might have eventually asked him for money.

Samuel set off downstairs, and Joel sat back with his
mug of hot chocolate.

He thought about Rolf, doing the washing-up and
wearing an apron.

Let's hope the Caviar Man wasn't as wet.

He looked at the clock, and jumped to his feet. He'd
been wasting too much time again. Now he'd have to
run as fast as he could in order to avoid being late for
school.

He cursed as he put on his jacket.

Why could he never learn?

Even though he ran for all he was worth, he was late.
The classroom door was shut, and he could hear the
harmonium playing the morning hymn. He hung up his
jacket and curled up on the window ledge of one of the
corridor windows. He'd have to wait. There was no way
he could enter the classroom during morning prayers.
That was one way of ensuring that Miss Nederström
would pull his hair.

Joel gazed out over the schoolyard, glittering white
with frost.

Could he think up a good excuse for being late?

Should he blame it on the Miracle? Claim that it was
so difficult to cope with it that his legs didn't have the
strength to move quickly?

He shook his head at his own thought. Miss
Nederström wouldn't be fooled by that. If she was really
annoyed she might make him march round and round
the classroom so that everybody could see his tired legs.
And Otto would sit there sniggering . . .

The harmonium stopped playing. Joel jumped down
from the window ledge. He raised his hand to knock on
the door.

Inside there were beasts of prey waiting to pounce on
him.

He lowered his hand.

I'm ill, he thought. The good deed I have to carry out
is making me ill.