Shadows in the Twilight

6

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.

That was it. He wouldn’t go to school today.

He recovered his jacket and sneaked out through the door.

To make sure nobody would see him, he crouched down below window level until he had turned the corner.

When he emerged into the street, he felt well and truly relieved. He had made a good decision. He could afford to be off school for one day. Stomachache could strike very quickly. He could have got it after Samuel had gone to work. He’d been stricken by the gripes while he was finishing his breakfast. Nothing serious. But bad enough for him not to go to school.

Now he had a whole day to himself. The first thing he would do was to collect his bike. Then he could do whatever he liked until two o’clock. School finished then, and there was a risk that he might bump into Miss Nederström after two. But until then, he could do whatever he wanted.

He felt the ten-kronor note he had in his pocket.

He suddenly had an idea. He wasn’t sure that it would work, but it could be worth trying.

Old Man Johanson was opening his newsagent’s. Joel watched him removing the shutters from the display windows. There was a parcel of newspapers on the pavement.

Old Man Johanson spotted Joel and pointed to the parcel.

‘The placards,’ he said. ‘Pin ’em up.’

Joel squatted down and started untying the knot in the string round the newspapers. It was a granny knot and almost impossible to unravel. He noticed a rusty nail almost hidden by some stones. He stuck the nail into the knot and twisted and prodded until it came loose and he could remove the yellow placards. As he was pinning them onto the display boards he read the headlines. It said in big, black letters that an agreement had been reached.

Who had agreed, about what?

You had to read the newspaper in order to find out.

It could have said instead: ‘Joel Gustafson’s Miracle’.

‘Joel Gustafson’s struggle to do his good deed.’

‘Rolf not up to it, Gustafson decides.’

‘Will the Caviar Man come up to scratch?’

‘Who will be Gertrud’s man? Watch this space!’

Joel lifted up the parcel and put it on the counter. Old Man Johanson gave him a bottle of Coke for his efforts.

‘Can you change this for me?’ he asked, holding out the ten-kronor note. ‘I need a five-kronor note, and five one-krona coins.’

Old Man Johanson opened the cash register and counted out the money.

‘Why aren’t you at school today?’ he asked.

‘Our teacher’s ill,’ said Joel.

That was a good answer. It could easily be true, and it was difficult to check.

But no doubt Old Man Johanson had forgotten all about it already. He was busy sorting out the newspapers.

Joel hurried off to the cycle shop.

It would be exciting to see if his idea worked.

The bell rang as Joel opened the door. The owner came out from the workshop.

‘I’ve come to collect my bike,’ said Joel. ‘The red one with the broken chain.’

The man disappeared into the workshop, then came back with Joel’s bike.

There was a sheet of paper fastened to the saddle.

‘That’ll be ten kronor, please,’ he said.

‘But I’ve only got eight kronor,’ said Joel, trying to sound devastated. His voice was little more than a squeak.

‘It costs ten kronor,’ said the man. ‘That’s what it says here, on the note. I wrote it myself.’

Joel tried to look as if he were about to burst out crying.

It worked.

‘All right, give me eight kronor. But it should be ten. I wrote it myself on this note.’

Joel gave him eight kronor, and wheeled his bike out of the shop.

Two kronor wasn’t bad.

The day had started well. He’d pulled off a good deal, and he didn’t have a bad conscience about not going to school.

He mounted his bike, and tried a few test skids on the gravel road leading down to the river. The chain felt good. Now he could try to track down the Caviar Man. He pulled up next to a round iron lid in the middle of the street. Maybe the Caviar Man was down there in the Underworld, with all his rats? Joel would lift up the manhole cover and shout down to him.

Everything suddenly became very exciting.

Joel had never imagined that there was an Underworld even in this dump. Underground tunnels and great big pipes and enormous rats hissing through their whiskers.

He would be able to clamber down into a hole and disappear. All the buildings and streets and people would be up above him. Perhaps there would even be a tunnel running underneath his school? Under Miss Nederström’s feet?

He looked round. Would he dare to open the lid and climb down?

There were too many people around who could see him. You only visited the Underworld when there was nobody to see what you were doing.

Joel got back onto his bike and cycled to the red-painted Municipal Offices on the other side of the vicarage, on a slope down to the river. He parked his bike in a stand labelled ‘Visitors to the Municipal Offices’. He opened the front door and went in.

He found himself in a large entrance hall with a stone floor. A broad staircase led to the first floor. The walls were lined with pictures of stern gentlemen, all of them frowning at him. He listened. Not a sound. Behind a glass panel was a little room, and he could see a telephone receiver hanging down, and swinging slowly from side to side. Joel went to investigate and realised that it was a switchboard.

The receiver was still swinging back and forth.

Joel had the feeling that he was on a ghost ship. Somebody had let go of the handset and jumped overboard.

He listened again. Still not a sound. When he walked over the stone floor all he could hear was a faint squeaking noise from his wellingtons. He came to a corridor. A door was standing ajar — it had a sign saying ‘Head Clerk’. Joel peeped inside, but the office was empty. He continued down the corridor. The next door was closed. And the next. Then came a door that was wide open. A sign said ‘Municipal Engineer’. Joel stepped inside. The walls were covered by bookshelves and map racks. There was a large map opened out on the desk, looking like a sea chart. Joel took a closer look. It was the plan of a house.

Joel turned round to leave the room, but found there was a man standing in the doorway.

Joel gave a start.

The man was wearing a dark blue overall. Joel noticed that he was in his bare feet.

‘Is the engineer not here?’ asked the man.

‘No, there’s only me,’ said Joel. ‘I’m lost.’

The man in the dark blue overalls suddenly slapped himself on the forehead.

Joel gave another start.

‘Of course,’ said the man. ‘They have a meeting. All the local council bosses. I’d forgotten.’

The Barefooted Man looked at Joel. He didn’t seem in the least unfriendly.

‘Did you say you were lost?’ he asked. ‘Who are you looking for?’

‘David,’ said Joel.

‘David?’ said the Barefooted Man. ‘You certainly are lost. You’d better come with me. What do you want him for?’

What could Joel say to that?

Now he was in a right mess. The Barefooted Man was blocking the doorway. Joel would never be able to squeeze past him.

The Barefooted Man suddenly smiled broadly. Joel noticed that there were lots of gaps where teeth should have been.

‘Of course,’ said the Barefooted Man. ‘You’re David’s kid brother.’

‘No I’m not,’ said Joel.

The Barefooted Man didn’t hear.

‘David’s kid brother,’ he said. ‘Come with me.’

He took hold of Joel’s arm and led him away. His grip was not hard and unfriendly. Even so, Joel couldn’t wriggle free.

Joel was starting to feel frightened. The Caviar Man might not be at all pleased to find that somebody had turned up claiming to be his younger brother.

‘I think he’s in here,’ said the Barefooted Man.

They had descended into a dark basement room, and came to a halt in front of a steel door. Joel could hear a roaring sound behind the door.

The Barefooted Man turned what looked like a motor car’s steering wheel, and the door slid slowly open.

The roaring sound grew louder.

Joel was now beginning to feel scared stiff. Now was the time to run away. But he didn’t do so. It was as if he were stuck fast in his own fear.

The Barefooted Man opened the steel door even wider. The noise was overpowering now.

‘I think your brother’s in here,’ he yelled, trying to make himself heard above the roaring sound.

Joel suddenly felt very hot. The air flowing out through the steel door was as hot as a summer’s day.

‘Come on,’ said the Barefooted Man, propelling Joel in front of him.

Joel stopped dead on the threshold.

The room in front of him was on fire.

Enormous flames were roaring and thundering.

The Barefooted Man was pushing Joel in front of him, straight at the flames.

Joel suddenly remembered his dream.

The dream in which he’d burnt up.

The flames in front of him grew bigger and bigger.

Soon he would be swallowed up by the Underworld...