The Journey to the End of the World

4

Samuel spotted a building displaying a hotel sign.

At that very moment it started raining.

The building was old and gloomy. It was squeezed into a block next to the railway station. Samuel stopped several times, hesitated, then started walking again with Joel a couple of paces behind him.

Joel was still fretting about being so stupid as to allow The Black Wave to make a fool of him.

All kinds of thoughts went shooting through his head.

He ought to have stayed at home.

He was too stupid to be let loose in the world.

He ought to forget all about the possibility of becoming a sailor one of these days.

He should do what Samuel had done. Become a lumberjack. Nothing else.

He ought to acquire a stoop, shave carelessly and get drunk whenever things were getting him down.

Joel was so angry and bitter that he sometimes started talking to himself aloud. Samuel turned round.

‘What was that you said?’ he asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘But I heard you say something.’

‘You heard wrong.’

Samuel eyed him thoughtfully. Then they carried on walking.

They stopped outside the hotel. The building was in a bad state of repair. Patches of plaster had fallen off the façade. An upstairs window was banging in the breeze.

‘This place looks good,’ said Samuel, as if he were trying to cheer himself up.

‘It looks awful,’ muttered Joel; but he was careful not to speak loudly enough for Samuel to hear what he said.

They went into the lobby. There was a strong smell of disinfectant. A bald man with thick-lensed glasses was sitting at a desk, peering at a newspaper.

They took a double room. Samuel paid in advance for two nights.

‘Will breakfast be served?’ Samuel asked, as he stood with the key in his hand.

‘Of course it will,’ said the bald man. ‘But not here.’

Joel saw that Samuel was blushing. He’d never seen that happen before.

‘If I ask a sensible question I expect to get a sensible answer,’ said Samuel. His voice was shaking. He was angry.

The bald man lowered his newspaper.

‘If you’re not satisfied you can always go and find another hotel.’

‘Where can we get breakfast?’ Samuel asked. ‘And where can we get dinner?’

He was still angry.

‘There are lots of cafés and restaurants around here.’

Joel could feel Samuel’s anger brushing off onto him.

Joel took a step forward and stood shoulder to shoulder with Samuel.

‘We also need to find a clothes shop,’ he said. ‘Somebody’s stolen my rucksack.’

‘First turning on the left,’ said the bald man.

They went to the lift. The room they had been given was on the third floor. Samuel paused and turned round.

‘One other thing,’ he said. ‘If we get a telephone call, we’re not in.’

The bald man bowed and nodded.

They walked up the stairs.

‘What was all that about?’ asked Joel. ‘What telephone call? Why aren’t we in?’

Samuel chuckled.

‘We can’t have him thinking that he can treat us however he likes. If you’re expecting a telephone call, people think you are on important business. People are stupid.’

‘I’m stupid,’ said Joel. ‘I let somebody nick my rucksack.’

‘You’ll learn,’ said Samuel. ‘I’ve had things stolen, in the past. When I was a sailor. And had gone on shore leave in various places. You do silly things at times. And clever things at other times. That’s life. You’ll learn.’

It was dark in the corridor.

They eventually located room 303.

They unlocked the door and went in. Everything in the room was brown. There was a patch of damp on the wallpaper, which was also brown. Samuel looked round and went over to the window.

‘At least we’ve got a view of the street,’ he said. ‘It’ll do.’

Joel thought the room was fine. It was the first time he’d ever stayed in a hotel. He couldn’t imagine how it could be any better. Two big beds with a table and bedside lamp between them.

‘Choose which of the beds you want,’ said Samuel.

Joel took the one closest to the window. From it he had a view of a rooftop.

Joel carefully unpacked the present they’d brought for Mummy Jenny. He was worried in case it had been damaged. He and Samuel examined it.

‘All in one piece,’ said Samuel.

Joel placed it gently on the chest of drawers.

‘Celestine has travelled just as far as we have,’ he said.

They both stretched out on their beds.

‘Take your shoes off,’ said Samuel. ‘So that you don’t dirty the cover.’

In his head Joel unpacked his invisible rucksack. No doubt The Black Wave would throw away everything he found in it. Joel’s shirts, and his best trousers. Not to mention his trainers. That was the worst thing. Not having those any more.

‘Don’t think about the rucksack,’ Samuel said out of the blue. ‘That’s life. It’s gone.’

‘I wasn’t thinking about the rucksack,’ said Joel. ‘I was thinking about my trainers.’

They lay there in silence. It was pouring with rain now. Drops were hitting hard against the windowpane.

I’m in Stockholm, Joel thought.

I’ve left school. I’ve travelled here with Samuel. And somewhere out there in the rain is Mummy Jenny.

He turned his head to look at Samuel. His dad’s eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep.

‘What shall we do now?’ Joel wondered.

‘Wait until it stops raining,’ said Samuel, without opening his eyes.

‘But it might rain for a whole week.’

Samuel didn’t respond. He smiled. Joel wondered what he was thinking about. Most probably about Jenny. But were his thoughts anxious ones? Or was he angry?

Joel decided it might be easier to ask Samuel questions when they weren’t at home. Perhaps it was easier to get answers to your questions when you were in a hotel room?

‘What actually happened?’ he asked.

Samuel turned his head and opened his eyes.

‘Happened?’

‘When Mummy Jenny vanished.’

‘She packed a case and left.’

Joel waited for what was coming next, but nothing did.

‘Is that all? Just packed a case and left?’

‘Yes.’

‘Surely there must be something else?’

‘The suitcase was brown. She was wearing a green coat. And a red hat. I can’t remember what colour her shoes were.’

‘And you were in the forest?’

‘I was in the forest.’

‘Where was I?’

‘You were downstairs in old Mrs Westman’s flat. She used to take care of you when Jenny was out shopping, or taking an afternoon nap.’

‘And you knew nothing about it? You hadn’t seen her packing her case? Or going to the railway station to buy a ticket?’

‘She took a bus.’

‘Didn’t she leave a letter?’

‘No, nothing at all. The only thing on the table was the outside door key.’

Joel felt as if he were going round in circles. Now it was time to stop and jump into the middle. Where the important questions were.

‘Had you been quarrelling?’

‘No.’

One more jump now, Joel. A bit closer to the middle.

‘Had you been drinking?’

There was a pause before the answer came. But come it did.

‘I hadn’t been drinking. I didn’t drink in those days. Not when she was around. Never ever. And if she hadn’t left me I’d never have started either.’

Joel was right in the middle now. He couldn’t get any further in.

‘Mums don’t run away like that. It’s dads who vanish. Not mums. Something must have happened.’

Samuel sat up on the bed. So violently that it gave Joel a start. He thought he must have said something that had made Samuel angry.

But the eyes that were looking at Joel were not angry. They were Samuel’s normal eyes. Tired and perhaps a little sad.

‘Do you think I haven’t been wondering about that?’ said Samuel. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for thirteen years. Every single day. Why did she leave me? All I know is that she’s the only person who can answer that question. And that’s why we’re here. I want to know. Once and for all. Why she packed her case and left us.’

‘Maybe she won’t want to tell us,’ said Joel hesitantly.

Samuel had lain down again.

‘At least she ought to explain it to you,’ he said after a while. ‘You’re her son after all.’

The sound of a vacuum cleaner came from the corridor. Joel looked out of the window. The rain was easing off.

‘What shall we do?’ he asked.

‘First we’ll have something to eat,’ said Samuel. ‘Then we’ll go and buy you some clothes. And then we’ll go looking for Mummy Jenny.’

‘I don’t need any clothes,’ said Joel.

‘I’ve no intention of letting you meet your mum in scruffy old clothes,’ said Samuel. ‘But we don’t need to buy the most expensive clobber we can find.’

The rain died away.

Soon there was just the occasional drop on the window ledge. Samuel disappeared into the corridor, looking for a bathroom where he could get shaved.

Joel was looking at a painting hanging on the wall above the chest of drawers.

It depicted a woman with large breasts sitting down under a tree, leaning against the trunk. Next to her was a man kneeling down and playing the violin.

Joel started to think about Sonja Mattsson. If only he’d known her number, he could have phoned her from reception.

But what would he say to her?

This is that idiot Joel who’s come to Stockholm and had his rucksack nicked. Come and rescue me.

He banished the thought. Took another look at the picture. The woman leaning against the tree really did have very big breasts. He went to the mirror next to the door. Examined his face. From the front. Then in profile. When he turned his head he got cramp in his shoulder. He swore and shook his arm until the cramp eased off. Had another look at himself. That quiff over his forehead refused to go away. He tried to imagine himself with hair like The Black Wave. Put on a make-believe tie and black pointed shoes. Then he clenched his fist and gave The Black Wave in the mirror a punch.

Right on the nose. Broke it. Blood came pouring out.

Nobody stole Joel Gustafson’s rucksack without being punished.

Joel stared at the mirror. The Black Wave disappeared. The only thing left was himself. Nobody else.

He went back to the picture hanging on the wall. Stroked the woman with his hand.

The door opened. It was Samuel coming back. Joel gave a start and fell over backwards. Samuel gave him a funny look, but didn’t say anything.

When they left the hotel it was still drizzling. Samuel looked around, doubtfully.

‘It’s amazing how little you remember,’ he said. ‘I used to visit Stockholm quite a lot. In the old days.’

‘That way,’ said Joel, pointing. ‘That’s where most people are heading.’

Joel was surprised at how big a hurry everybody seemed to be in. Where on earth were all these people going to?

When they had found a department store and Joel had seen an escalator for the first time in his life, he wondered why people were even running on that, when the stairs were moving anyway.

They eventually came to the floor with men’s clothing. Both Joel and his father turned pale when they saw the price tags.

‘Let’s go,’ said Joel. ‘There must be cheaper clothes than these in other shops.’

By the time they emerged into the street it had started raining again.

Joel had started to dislike Stockholm. This wasn’t how he had imagined it. Crowds of people, loud noise everywhere, high prices and rain that never seemed to stop.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about his rucksack. Stockholm had sent The Black Wave to welcome him. With a sneer.

‘We must have something to eat now,’ said Samuel. ‘I noticed a licensed café on the way here.’

They hurried through the rain and came to the café entrance. Once they were inside, Joel felt at home. The place smelled the same as the bar back home where he sometimes sold newspapers or went to fetch Samuel when he’d had too much to drink. The waitresses wore the same black and white clothes as Sara, and he recognised the stale smell of rain, wet wool and tobacco. They found an empty table and sat down. Joel was already worried that they wouldn’t have enough money. A waitress brought them a menu. Joel leaned over the table to be able to read the menu. Not the choices on offer, but what they cost.

‘We can afford this,’ said Samuel. ‘Beef stew.’

Joel didn’t like beef stew. But he didn’t say anything.

By the time they finished eating, it had stopped raining again. Whenever the door opened Joel could see the sun shining.

They had eaten in silence. Joel had been thinking about his rucksack. He didn’t know what Samuel had been thinking about.

Samuel paid and put his wallet away in the inside pocket of his coat.

‘Now we must find a decent map,’ he said. ‘Then we can look for the shop where she works.’

Joel was surprised.

‘Shouldn’t we start by looking for where she lives?’

‘Lots of people go in and out of a block of flats,’ said Samuel. ‘But there won’t be nearly as many standing behind the counter in a shop.’

Joel could see his point.

‘I thought you said you would recognise her?’

‘Maybe we shouldn’t be over-confident about that,’ said Samuel hesitantly. ‘It’s best to be on the safe side.’

The only way of being on the safe side would have been not to come here in the first place, Joel thought angrily.

It was the rucksack again. And The Black Wave.

They found a bookshop that sold maps. They bought the cheapest one Samuel could find. Then they sat down on a park bench that had had time to dry out, and unfolded the map.

There was Medborgarplatsen. And here was where they were now.

‘There must be a tram that goes there,’ said Samuel.

But Joel had noticed something else. If they walked, they would pass by the quay where boats were moored.

‘Let’s walk,’ he said. ‘It can’t be all that far. And it’s not very late.’

He pointed at a clock outside a watchmaker’s shop. It said seven minutes past twelve.

Samuel stood up.

‘You’d better take the map,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I’m as good at finding the way as I thought I’d be.’

Now it was Joel taking the lead. He kept checking the map to make sure they were going the right way. They soon came to the water. There was the Royal Palace, and there were bridges, hotels, museums, and most important of all, boats. But Joel was disappointed to find that there weren’t any cargo ships. Small white passenger boats, the occasional fishing boat. But no big ships. No ships of the kind that would need a sailor like Samuel, or a young boy like Joel who would be signing on for the first time.

‘Where are all the boats?’ he wondered. ‘Like the ones that you used to work on?’

‘Oh, they’ll probably be in the harbour at Värtahamnen,’ said Samuel. ‘Or in Frihamnen.’

Joel stopped dead, unfolded the map and looked up Värtahamnen. But that was miles away from where they were now.

It would have to wait until another day.

They continued on their way.

Samuel had started sweating. He couldn’t walk as fast as Joel, and several times used his handkerchief to mop his brow.

Joel stopped at the corner of a street. A large open square was spread out in front of them. If the city had been a forest, they would have come to a large clearing.

‘This is it,’ said Joel, after checking the map. ‘Medborgarplatsen.’

Samuel bit his lip. Joel found himself doing the same thing. He didn’t like copying what Samuel did, but he couldn’t help it.

There was a pavement café in the square. Samuel pointed at it and nodded.

‘I must have a cup of coffee,’ he said. ‘And something cold. Meanwhile you can scout around and see if you can find the shop.’

‘Shouldn’t we do that together?’

‘We have to find the place before we can do anything,’ said Samuel. ‘You’ll be best at doing that on your own.’

Joel left Samuel at the pavement café.

It felt as if he were setting out on the most important reconnaissance expedition of his life. He knew that was a childish thought, but he couldn’t help thinking the way he did. He was childish. And he’d decided he was going to stay that way for as long as he wanted to.

He suddenly stopped dead.

It had dawned on him where the limit was.

There was a river that childishness would never be able to swim over. And he would soon find himself on the bank of that river when he stood in front of Mummy Jenny and said:

Here I am. Joel.

He started walking round the square. Noticed how nervous he was. He could just make out Samuel somewhere in the background.

He was close to Mummy Jenny now. Assuming the letter from Elinor in Gothenburg was right. And it must surely be.

He continued walking round the square, looking for a grocer’s shop.

He paused several times, when he thought he had seen The Black Wave.

He found himself back at his starting point, and frowned. There wasn’t a grocer’s shop here.

He walked all the way round again. Same result. No grocer’s shop.

He was quite sure. He hadn’t overlooked it.

Samuel was stirring his empty cup with a spoon. Joel joined him at the table.

‘There is no shop,’ he said.

Samuel looked at him uncomprehendingly.

‘What do you mean, there isn’t a shop?’

‘You heard what I said. There isn’t a grocer’s shop in this square. What did it actually say in the letter?’

‘That Jenny works in a grocer’s shop in this square.’

‘How could she know that?’

‘Elinor would never write anything she wasn’t sure about.’

‘Have you got the letter with you?’

‘I left it at home.’

‘Why?’

‘I know exactly what it says. I’ve read it so many times, I know it more or less off by heart.’

Joel didn’t know where his anxiety came from, but it was suddenly there. It was as if a blast of cold wind had blown past.

He didn’t know what was the matter.

But he hadn’t made a mistake.

Something was very wrong.