Shadows in the Twilight

10

General Custer, Joel thought.

Or Geronimo. Or both of them together. They wouldn’t have coped with this. Not even together!

Once it had dawned on him that Samuel and Sara really had made up their minds to go dancing to Kringström’s orchestra that night, Joel felt that all was lost. The good deed he had spent so much time and effort organising and was on the point of achieving, would never happen now.

He was back where he’d started. Just like when he took a wrong turning in Simon Windstorm’s maze. The good deed was something he’d never be able to find his way out of. He’d have to keep pressing on with attempts to do a good deed until he was so old that he couldn’t even stand up any more.

He sat in his room, swearing. He muttered all the swearwords he could think of. And he invented several new ones. All the time, Samuel was bustling around in the kitchen, humming tunes. He filled the big zinc bathtub with hot water. Then he shouted for Joel to come and scrub his back for him. Joel would have preferred to hit Samuel on the head with the brush instead. Why did Samuel have to choose tonight of all nights to go out dancing with Sara? Why not next Saturday? Why not every Saturday apart from this one?

Why couldn’t grown-ups ever understand when it wasn’t acceptable for them to go out dancing?

Joel scrubbed and Samuel grunted. If the brush had been impregnated with a sleeping potion, Samuel would have fallen asleep on the spot and not woken up until tomorrow. Joel would pay Kringström and his orchestra and he would rent the whole of the Community Centre for tomorrow night so that Sara and Samuel could dance together then. But not tonight! Alas, the brush was not poisoned and Samuel continued humming. He stood in the middle of the floor in a pool of water, shaving.

‘We’ll have dinner together at Sara’s place this evening,’ he said contentedly. ‘Then we’ll go dancing. You can stay in her flat and listen to the radio if you like.’

‘No,’ said Joel.

‘Why not?’ wondered Samuel. ‘Sara’s a very good cook. Much better than you and me.’

‘I don’t want to,’ said Joel.

Samuel grew angry. Or perhaps irritated. Joel wasn’t quite sure of the difference.

‘Just this once you’ll do as I say!’ said Samuel.

‘No,’ said Joel and emptied the bathtub by pouring bucket after bucket of dirty water down the sink.

‘What are you going to eat, then?’ asked Samuel.

I shall starve, Joel thought.

But he didn’t say that, of course.

‘I’ll make my own dinner,’ he said instead. ‘You said I was good at looking after myself. You did say that, didn’t you?’

‘Perhaps I did,’ said Samuel. ‘I just don’t understand why you’re making yourself so difficult to get along with.’

Joel said nothing.

Neither did Samuel.

Another kind of silence, Joel thought. Different from the one in the forest or in the Underworld.

At six o’clock Joel knotted Samuel’s tie for him.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to come?’ Samuel asked again.

‘I prefer to stay at home,’ said Joel.

‘Please yourself, then,’ said Samuel, and left. Joel didn’t bother to stand in the window and wave. He went straight to his room. He lay down on his bed and pulled the covers over his head. An hour and a half from now he was due at the back door of the Community Centre. That’s what had been arranged. But it would be impossible now.

He sat straight up in bed.

‘Oh, hell!’ he yelled at nobody in particular. Then he lay down again with the covers over his head.

Why does everything go wrong? he wondered. You do the right thing. But it goes wrong even so.

Why is life so difficult?

He got out of bed. Lying there with the covers over his head didn’t help. He checked the kitchen clock. 17 minutes past six. The clock didn’t have a second hand, so he tried to count sixty seconds. But the clock showed 18 minutes past six when he’d only got as far as 49. He was counting too slowly.

I give up, he thought. The Caviar Man and Gertrud will have to manage without me. If there is a God, he’ll have to do without a thank you for his Miracle. He can send the police after me for all I care. I, Joel Gustafson, couldn’t care less about that.

But at that very moment, he had an idea. He would disguise himself. Surely he could dress up so that nobody would recognise him? He’d be able to hide behind the fat drummer, Holmström. He was the fattest man in town. The fattest drummer in the world.

He looked at the clock again. 24 minutes past six. He cursed for not having made up his mind sooner.

Joella, he thought. I can dress up as a girl. I can tell Kringström that unfortunately my brother is ill, but I’d also like to learn to play the saxophone...

No, that’s not possible, he thought immediately. I can’t wear Mummy Jenny’s dress. And there isn’t anything else.

He checked the clock again. Nearly half past six.

When ten past seven came round, he still hadn’t thought of a good way of disguising himself. He would have to go now. Yet again he’d decided to stay at home, but the moment he’d pulled the covers over his head, he’d bounced back up again. He would have to go! He took Samuel’s hat from the wardrobe, the one he’d bought in Hull. He pulled it down over his eyes. Then he took Samuel’s spare pair of reading glasses and let them hang down over his nose. That was all. He raced down the stairs and out into the chilly evening air. It will soon be winter, he thought. It will snow before long.

He ran so fast that he got a stitch. He had to pause and catch his breath. Then he set off running again. As the church clock chimed twice, he arrived at the Community Centre. Kringström’s big Ford had backed into the courtyard. The members of the orchestra were already busy unloading their instruments. The fattest drummer in the world was carrying the big bass drum in front of him, looking as if he had an extra stomach. The double bass player was perched on the car roof, untying the rope round his instrument case. Joel knew that his name was Ross — but was that his first name or his surname? Just then Kringström came out of the back door with the Community Centre manager, Mr Engman. Joel stopped dead when he heard that they were quarrelling.

‘Of course we have to have a bulb that works in our dressing room,’ growled Kringström. ‘Do you expect us to get changed in the pitch black? Are we supposed to drink our coffee in darkness during the interval?’

‘You don’t drink coffee,’ said Engman testily. ‘You drink vodka and whisky. And then you are all so drunk, you can hardly hold your instruments.’

‘Take that back here and now,’ roared Kringström. ‘If not, you can find yourself another orchestra.’

The quarrel ended as quickly as it had begun. Engman vanished through the back door, muttering away to himself.

Joel stepped forward.

Kringström looked at him in surprise.

‘What’s all this?’ he asked. ‘A dwarf in a hat?’

‘I’m the one who wants to learn to play the saxophone,’ said Joel, raising his hat. Kringström burst out laughing. He explained to the other members of the orchestra who Joel was. As if Joel had been a grown-up, they all marched up to shake him by the hand. Ross’s first name was Einar. The world’s fattest drummer had a hand so big that Joel’s disappeared inside it.

‘We’d better get a move on,’ shouted Kringström. ‘The pack of wolves will be after us before we know where we are.’

Joel helped to carry the instruments.

‘What pack of wolves?’ he asked Ross.

‘The audience,’ said Ross. ‘The audience are a pack of wolves. If we don’t play well, they gobble us up.’

It didn’t take long to unpack the instruments. The sheet music was distributed and placed in the correct order, and they started tuning up. Each of them would occasionally take a swig from a bottle that was passed round from hand to hand. The manager, Engman, appeared and assured the orchestra that he had replaced the broken light bulb.

‘So, we’d better get changed,’ said Kringström to Joel. ‘Stay here on the stage and keep an eye on the instruments.’

Joel is alone on stage. The empty auditorium in front of him is suddenly full of people. Everybody is waiting for Joel Gustafson’s Orchestra to start playing. Joel does what he’s heard you are supposed to do. He stamps on the floor, beating time, counts to four and raises his saxophone.

Kringström is in the wings, tying his bow tie. He notices Joel’s solo performance, and signals to the other members of the orchestra. They stand in the wings and watch Joel. Then they all run onto the stage and start playing pretend instruments as well. When Joel realises what is happening, he stops playing. But Kringström urges him on.

Another kind of silence, Joel thinks. The silent instruments’ orchestra...

Kringström takes over.

‘We’d better stop now if we’re going to have time to change before the pack of wolves closes in on us.’

‘That sounded great,’ says the World’s Fattest Drummer, patting Joel on the shoulder with his gigantic hand.

Joel blushes. It was only a game, after all! A game that somebody who’ll soon be twelve is too old for...

Then he feels his worries creeping up on him again. No game in the whole world can change reality. That’s what it is, full stop. Soon Sara and Samuel will appear. And Gertrud and the Caviar Man. And the pack of wolves.

He looks at the big curtain hanging behind the orchestra. It’s like an enormous painting — even bigger than the altarpiece in the church. It’s summer on the curtain. A blue lake is glistening. Birch trees have come into leaf. Blue and green. There’s a white seagull soaring up in the sky. Joel goes behind the curtain. It’s dark and dusty there. But what he has done is to exit from the autumn of the world outside this stage, and to enter into summer instead. That’s the way it should always be. You should live in a house in which every room was a different season. So that you could choose. The kitchen could be summer and the bedroom spring. The pantry could be winter and the hall autumn...

He discovers that there’s a peephole in the tall curtain. He can stand behind one of the white birch trees and look out into the auditorium. People have started to come in. Girls with their hair up and in high heels. Boys in black winkle-pickers and Brylcreemed hair. Joel can see that there’s a log jam at the very back of the room. Mr Engman, the manager, is waving his arms about. Suddenly everything turns black before Joel’s eyes. It was Ross walking over the stage and starting to tune his doublebass. More and more people are entering the auditorium. The light is dimmed. But there is a hell of a noise already. The girls are standing in clusters by one of the walls. Joel knows that it’s called the Mountain Wall. The boys are gathered by the opposite wall. Somebody kicks the floor, as if he were a horse. Somebody slaps somebody else on the back. More and more people are turning up. But not Sara and Samuel. And not the Caviar Man nor Gertrud either.

Now the orchestra is in place. A row of footlights shine red and yellow. Joel is standing behind the curtain, but is almost blinded. All the members of the orchestra are wearing red jackets now. Kringström’s face is already sweaty.

Then they start playing. Not many people dance at first. Some of the boys venture over to the Mountain Wall, but they soon retreat to the opposite wall again. All the time Joel is keeping an eye on the swing doors where Engman is trying to keep the Pack of Wolves under control. None of those Joel is expecting to see has arrived as yet. But it’s starting to get crowded out there now. Queues are forming at the swing doors. Engman is flailing his arms about. The orchestra starts to play another tune. It’s a faster beat. More people are dancing now. A group of boys are standing in front of the stage, watching the orchestra. They are not dancing. They are just watching and listening.

Then Joel notices Sara and Samuel. Engman is still flailing his arms about, and Sara and Samuel make their way through the throng.

They can’t see me here, Joel thinks. Not while I’m hidden behind this birch tree.

Now they are dancing. Samuel has his arm round Sara. It looks as if he is jumping. He’s sticking his bottom out and pushing Sara along in front of him. Joel starts laughing behind his birch tree. He’s never seen Samuel like this before. His eyes are glued to Sara and Samuel, and he forgets all about keeping an eye on the swing doors. Only when the dance has finished and Sara is wiping the sweat from her face does he remember that he has to keep a check on who comes in. It is as crowded as ever around the doors. He can’t see either the Caviar Man or Gertrud.

It’s Samuel’s fault, he thinks in annoyance. If he hadn’t brought Sara here, I’d never have forgotten to keep an eye on the swing doors.

The orchestra starts playing again. Sara and Samuel are dancing. Joel keeps his eyes skinned. He suddenly catches sight of the Caviar Man. He can see the back of his head among all the couples on the dance floor. But then he realises it isn’t the Caviar Man after all. It’s somebody else. And where is Gertrud?

They’re not going to turn up, he thinks. It’s gone wrong again...

It’s hard work, peering through the hole in the birch tree. He has to lean forward all the time in order to see. When the orchestra finishes playing, he stands erect and stretches. He walks to the edge of the birch woods and looks into the wings. The World’s Fattest Drummer is wiping the sweat from his brow. Kringström puts down his saxophone and picks up the clarinet instead.

‘Siam Blues,’ Kringström shouts. ‘Are you ready?’

He stamps his foot to beat the rhythm, and Joel does the same. Just as Kringström plays the first note, Joel sees the Caviar Man.

He’s in the group gathered in front of the stage, watching the orchestra.

Joel dodges quickly back into the shadowy wings. Are his eyes deceiving him again? No, it’s the Caviar Man all right. He’s come!

The Caviar Man seems to be staring up wistfully at the orchestra. His lips keep moving, as if he were playing an invisible saxophone. Just like Joel. He suddenly turns round and looks behind him. He’s looking for Gertrud, Joel thinks. But it’s not Gertrud who poked him in the back. It’s somebody else. The Caviar Man looks angry. He tries to make himself a bit more room.

Then it all turns pitch black in front of Joel. It’s the World’s Fattest Drummer who’s moved his stool slightly and landed slap bang in front of the peephole. Joel can’t see a thing. He goes back to the wings. It’s not such a good place as behind the curtain — if the Caviar Man suddenly turns his head, he’ll be able to see Joel watching him. The same applies to all the couples who are dancing. They could see him as well. Now he has to look in several directions all at once. I could do with some extra eyes, he thought. At least another ten...

When the orchestra takes a rest and leaves the stage, Joel has started to get worried. Why hasn’t Gertrud come? he wonders. Surely she must have been pleased to receive another letter from the Caviar Man.

‘What do you think you’re doing here?’ says a voice behind him.

Joel is so startled, he almost jumps out of the wings and onto the stage.

It’s the Community Centre manager, Engman. He looks angry.

‘What’s a little kid like you doing in here?’ he says, looking even more angry. ‘This is for grown-ups. How did you get in?’

Nothing annoys Engman more that people trying to sneak into a dance or a film show. Joel has heard lots of stories about what Engman can do when he’s angry.

‘I belong to the orchestra,’ he says, his voice shaking.

Engman stares at him.

‘Are you Kringström’s lad?’ he asks.

‘Yes,’ says Joel. ‘He’s my dad.’

‘OK,’ says Engman. ‘In that case you can stay here.’

Engman disappears into the wings. What will happen if he starts talking to Kringström, Joel wonders. But he calms down when he realises that they talk to each other as little as possible. They are not exactly the best of friends.

The Caviar Man has vanished. It’s completely empty in front of the stage. Joel leans forward cautiously and looks out into the big dance hall. He can see a crowd of people at the doors leading into the café, but there’s no sign of the Caviar Man. Nor can he see Samuel and Sara. He makes up his mind to recapture his peephole behind the birch tree. If he can move the stool behind the drums slightly, the World’s Fattest Drummer won’t be sitting in the way any more. All the musicians are in the changing room. He peers out into the hall again. There are a few people out there, but nobody is looking at the stage. He leaps like a tiger towards the drummer’s stool, but needless to say, he bumps into a music stand. When he thrusts an arm out to maintain his balance, he accidentally punches one of the cymbals. The sound echoes around the hall. He loses his hat and his glasses and tumbles down among the drums. He recovers the hat straight away, but the glasses must have landed under the big bass drum. He races back into the wings again. He looks across at the wings on the other side of the stage, and sees the World’s Fattest Drummer staring anxiously at his drums. Joel sidles back into the shadows. The big man on the other side of the stage shrugs, and goes away. Joel can breathe again. He moves back to his place in the wings where he can see into the auditorium.

Sara is standing in the middle of the dance floor, looking at him. Straight at him.

He’s been rumbled! Joel realises that there’s no point dodging back into the shadows. Sara has discovered him. She must have been somewhere out there, heard the noise when he hit the cymbal, and recognised him.

But where’s Samuel? Has Samuel rumbled him as well? Joel looks at Sara. She stares back at him, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. Then she breaks into a smile. Smiles and shakes her head. At the same time Joel notices Samuel. He’s coming out of the door to the café.

Joel raises a finger to his lips. Will Sara understand?

Yes, she understands. She nods and raises her own index finger to her lips.

Joel takes a step back. Now he can’t be seen. But he can hear Samuel’s voice.

‘What are you staring at?’ Samuel asks.

‘I think there was a cat in the wings over there,’ says Sara.

‘A cat?’ says Samuel in surprise.

‘I may have been mistaken,’ says Sara. ‘It was probably nothing.’

Joel stands motionless in the shadows. It’s a big moment when you fall in love with somebody. Now Joel is in love with Sara. She hadn’t said anything. She’d turned Joel into a cat. He knew she would keep his secret.

She must wonder, Joel thinks. He makes up his mind to tell her why he’d gone to the Community Centre. He’d tell her one of these days. Some time in the future...

The orchestra returns to the stage and the buzz of chatter increases in the hall. Joel peers at the wall where the girls had gathered in little groups. Still no sign of Gertrud. But the Caviar Man has re-appeared. He’s standing with a group of other young men in front of the stage. They are in a circle with their heads down. Joel can see that they are looking at something, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t make out what it is.

Kringström starts stamping his foot again, the red and yellow lights are switched on, and he raises his saxophone to his mouth. But the group of young men in front of the stage have their backs turned on the orchestra. They are laughing at whatever it is they’re looking at. The saxophone is playing, but the young men are laughing. The Caviar Man is laughing louder than anybody else.

Then Joel realises what it is they’re laughing at.

The Caviar Man is holding a sheet of paper. A sheet of paper that Joel recognises.

It’s the letter from Gertrud. The letter Joel had written himself. On his dad’s writing paper.

Joel goes all stiff. The Caviar Man is showing his mates the letter from Gertrud, the letter that Joel wrote. He is showing the secret letter to his friends. And they are all laughing. They’re laughing so loudly that you can hardly hear the saxophone.

Only a couple of minutes ago, he had started to love somebody. Sara.

Now he was starting to hate the Caviar Man. And when Joel sees that they have stopped laughing, and the Caviar Man tears the letter into little pieces and drops them on the floor, where a thousand heels will grind them into the dust, Joel hates the man more than he has ever hated any other person before. It’s as if the Caviar Man had trampled on Gertrud...

Joel walks away. He goes down the stairs leading to the back door where they had carried in the instruments. He unlocks it and goes out. It’s autumn now. Cold, with a sky full of stars. You can hardly hear the saxophone any more. But the Caviar Man’s laughter is still echoing inside his head.

It’s noisy in front of the Community Centre. All the people Engman refused to allow in are gathered there. Somebody is holding onto a drainpipe and throwing up. A portable gramophone is blaring out from a passing car.

Then Joel sees Gertrud.

She’s standing in the shadows on the other side of the street. Staring up at the illuminated entrance.

Don’t go in, Joel thinks. Go home. The Caviar Man is not worth having. I was wrong...

Gertrud takes a pace forward. She’s now in the light from a lamppost. Joel can see that she’s wearing her best overcoat. The one she made herself from curtains and dresses, with fox fur trim. Where her nose ought to be she has her best handkerchief, the one made of Chinese silk.

She sets off over the road towards the entrance. Joel runs over to her. He stops in front of her, in the middle of the street.

‘Joel!’ she says in surprise. ‘What a funny hat you’re wearing!’

‘Don’t go in there,’ says Joel. ‘Don’t do it.’

‘I feel like dancing,’ she says.

‘Don’t go in there,’ Joel says again.

She stares at him in astonishment.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ she asks. ‘I have to meet somebody in there.’

‘I know,’ says Joel. ‘Don’t go.’

Gertrud can’t understand what’s going on. What does he mean? And why is he dressed up? Wearing a strange hat and glasses?

Now she turns serious. Her voice is sharp. As sharp as a knife, Joel thinks. She’s going to cut me open.

‘What do you know?’ she asks. She’s speaking so loudly that some of the young people loitering nearby start to show an interest, and listen to what’s going on.

‘What do you know?’ She’s almost bellowing now. ‘WHAT DO YOU KNOW?’

‘It was me who wrote those letters,’ Joel shouts. ‘I didn’t mean any harm!’

Gertrud looks at him. Her eyes are like ice.

‘I didn’t mean any harm,’ says Joel again. ‘I thought you and the Caviar Man could get married.’

‘The Caviar Man?’ she exclaims. ‘What are you talking about?’

She grabs hold of him. Gives him a good shaking. Curious onlookers gather round. Form a circle round them. A car that can’t get past sounds its horn angrily.

‘What are you talking about?’ she bellows again.

‘It was me who wrote those letters,’ yells Joel.

She eyes him up and down. The penny drops.

Then she boxes his ears. His hat and glasses fall off and dance around on the cobblestones. She hits Joel so hard that his head is buzzing. He almost falls over. As if through a fog, he sees Gertrud running away. Her coat is fluttering like a bird with a broken wing. All around him people are laughing and giggling.

‘What’s going on here?’ somebody asks.

‘Noseless Gertrud has been fighting,’ somebody answers.

Joel wishes there was a manhole cover in front of his feet. So that he could lift it up and disappear into the Underworld. Perhaps there is a passage down there that leads to the sea? Or a tunnel that runs to where Mummy Jenny is?

He picks up the hat and glasses, and runs away.

Behind him, he can hear people laughing.

Gertrud has vanished.

His cheeks are burning. Now I’m on fire, Joel thinks. That dream has come true. I’ve started to burn. Before long there’ll be flames coming from my cheeks.

He keeps on running all the way home. When he gets there he feels as if he were going to be sick.

Life has suddenly become so hard.

There are too many questions.

Maybe that’s what distinguishes children from grown-ups, he thinks.

Understanding that there are so many questions that don’t have answers?

He trudges slowly up the stairs.

All the time, in his mind’s eye, he can see Gertrud in front of him.

Her coat flapping like the broken wing of a bird.

You can get lost inside yourself, Joel thought.

You don’t have to go into the forest in order to get lost.

You have Day and Night inside yourself. And when twilight falls inside you, the shadows become so long...