The Journey to the End of the World

10

The letter was short and handwritten.

Joel sat on the steps outside the hotel and read what she had written.

Joel read the letter again.

Jenny had spelt a word wrongly. ‘Hop.’ She really meant ‘hope’.

Then he realised that there was something in the letter he could understand fully. That it wasn’t easy to live with Samuel. He’d discovered that for himself.

And how had it been for Sara? The waitress in the bar back home who hadn’t been able to put up with him either?

I expect it’s all to do with the fact that he shaves so carelessly, Joel thought. If you’re slapdash with that, you’re slapdash with other things as well.

He felt his cheeks. Only down so far. But he was quite certain that he would never shave carelessly. He’d prefer to grow a beard.

Joel wondered what to do. Should he show Samuel the letter? Or should he do what Samuel had done with the letter from Elinor? Show that it existed, but not say what was in it?

He went back into the hotel. He’d noticed that there was headed paper in one of the desk drawers. And Samuel had a pen. He’d be able to write a reply to Jenny on the spot.

‘I hope it was good news,’ said the bald man behind the desk. Every time he saw Joel he became more friendly.

‘It couldn’t have been better,’ Joel said.

He sat down at the desk with the paper in front of him, pen in hand. He didn’t really want to use Samuel’s pen when he wrote to Jenny, but he didn’t have any other.

What should he write?

He read Jenny’s letter once again. He could hear her voice. What had Samuel shouted at her? That she was a shit heap.

Was that something you could really say to a woman? Samuel must be a boor. Had he really been planning that for over ten years? To tell Mummy Jenny that she was a shit heap?

Joel decided once and for all that Samuel was incomprehensible. He had an incomprehensible dad. A person nobody could understand. A boor.

He was worried that he might have inherited that boorish character. That there might be aspects of it inside himself. Only seeds so far, but seeds that might sprout and grow as he grew older. Might he one day go around calling women things he shouldn’t?

He knew now what he was going to write. And he would be very careful to avoid any spelling mistakes.

When he’d finished writing, he read it through.

That would have to do. He hadn’t made any spelling mistakes. He folded the sheet of paper and put it in an envelope, which he sealed.

He was able to buy a stamp in reception. He’d noticed a postbox in the street not far from the hotel. He went there and posted the letter.

So that was that done.

When Samuel came back from the hospital, Joel had just been out for a meal. He’d gone to a different café, but the food tasted exactly the same. He was looking at the picture of the woman leaning against a tree, and thinking about Sonja Mattsson, when the door opened.

Samuel was wearing a hat.

A grey hat with a light blue band.

Joel stared at him. The hat was drooping down a long way below Samuel’s ears.

‘Wherever did you find that?’ he asked.

‘Find?’ said Samuel. ‘I bought it. And it was far too dear. But I thought I had a right to treat myself to something for once.’

‘And so you bought a hat?’

Samuel examined himself in the mirror.

‘Isn’t it elegant?’

‘It’s elegant. But what are you going to do with it?’

‘I’m going to wear it.’

‘Out in the forest?’

‘When I’m in my best clothes. On Sundays.’

Joel sighed. It was just as both Jenny Rydén and he himself had established: Samuel was a totally incomprehensible person. He never got dressed up on Sundays. He never went for walks. The hat would end up on a shelf in the wardrobe. And it would stay there.

Joel changed the subject.

‘What did they have to say, at the hospital?’

‘They’ll be getting in touch. By letter. So we can go home now.’

Samuel walked past Joel and sat down on the chair.

Joel noticed immediately that Samuel smelled of Pilsner. That meant that he hadn’t been at the hospital all day. But his eyes were not shiny. So he wasn’t drunk.

‘Have you eaten?’ Samuel asked.

‘Yes. Have you?’

‘No. But I’m not hungry.’

That’s not true, Joel thought. Samuel tells lies just as badly as he shaves himself. He’s eaten already, and he’s been drinking beer. And no doubt bought rounds for lots of old men he’s never seen before. I expect he also told them he was a sailor. On shore leave.

‘Have you any money left?’ Joel asked.

He was starting to wonder if they’d be able to pay for the hotel room if they stayed for two more nights.

‘I have enough for us to get by on,’ said Samuel. ‘And we’ll be going home tomorrow anyway.’

Joel could see that there was no point in waiting any longer. He’d have to speak to Samuel. It was a case of now or never.

‘When are we going to look at the boats?’

‘We can do that tomorrow. Before we set off home.’

He doesn’t want to, Joel thought. All that talk about me having to finish school first, and then we could move and Samuel could become a sailor again.

All talk. Nothing but talk.

Joel took a deep breath and braced himself.

‘I’m not going with you,’ he said. ‘I’ll be collecting my seaman’s discharge book a couple of days from now. Then I’m off to sea. I can’t wait for you any longer.’

Samuel stared long and hard at him. It slowly dawned on him that Joel was serious.

He said nothing. He seemed to be retreating into himself.

‘That’s a bit of a shock,’ he said eventually.

‘Why? It’s what I’ve been dreaming about for ages. And I thought we were going to go to sea together.’

‘I have to wait for the letter from the hospital.’

Lucky for him that there’s something he has to wait for, Joel thought. But even if there hadn’t been, he’d have thought up something. Any excuse at all to delay matters.

Then Samuel seemed to get a second wind.

‘This is what we’ll do,’ he said. ‘We’ll go back home tomorrow, and then we can plan everything calmly and carefully. I’ll resign from the logging company. And then we’ll go to Gothenburg. There’s more boats to choose from there. Stockholm’s nothing. It’s not a good idea to sign up for the first boat you clap eyes on. Then we’ll start our travels. Best would be a boat heading for South America. They are good boats. Good boats and good ports. And you have to be careful which shipping line you choose. That’s the way it is. There are good boats and there are bad boats. I think that’s what we’ll do.’

Joel listened. He’d sat down on his bed.

He felt sorry for Samuel. Because all he said was just words. Words that would never lead to anywhere, least of all up a gangway.

Samuel didn’t want to go back to sea. Or didn’t dare. Or didn’t have the strength. Or perhaps it was a combination of all three.

Joel felt sorry for him.

But he couldn’t change his mind now. If he did, he’d become like Samuel. He’d stay up north in that house by the river. At first he’d get a job as an errand boy for the ironmonger’s shop. And then? Whatever happened next, he’d stay up there. And if he eventually had any children of his own, he wouldn’t even have a sea chart on which he could show them the places he’d been to when he was a sailor.

‘What do you think?’ asked Samuel.

‘I’m not going with you. I can’t wait any longer.’

Silence again. Joel waited.

‘Where will you live? While you’re waiting for a ship?’

The answer was obvious.

‘Maybe I can stay with my mum.’

Now he’s said it. For the first time. Not Jenny. Not Jenny Rydén. But my mum.

Samuel said nothing for a long time.

‘That means that I’ll be on my own,’ he said. ‘I’ve looked after you for all these years, and now you’re leaving me. And moving in with your mum.’

‘I’m going to sea. With luck I might get a job on a boat without having to wait.’

‘I’ll be on my own,’ said Samuel.

Joel could feel that it was getting difficult now. Whenever Samuel started to feel sorry for himself he could carry on moaning and complaining for ever.

‘You’re the one who doesn’t want to become a sailor again. That’s not my fault.’

‘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.

It still wasn’t too late for him to change his mind. The last thing Samuel had given him at the railway station was the return half of his ticket. If he didn’t use it, he could send it back to Samuel in an envelope. Then Samuel would be able to take it to the station and get a refund.

Joel would have preferred not to have it. But Samuel insisted. Something could happen. He might change his mind.

Joel felt in his pocket. The ticket was still there.

He could take the train leaving the next day. And when Samuel got back home from work, the potatoes would be ready for him.

It was tempting.

But he forced himself: there would be no going back. In a few days’ time he would be issued with his discharge book.

Until then he’d stay with Jenny Rydén. And his sisters.

Somebody came in through the front door down below.

Joel stood up. He couldn’t delay things any longer.

He walked up the last few stairs and rang the bell on the door where it said J. Rydén.