When the Snow Fell

Nineteen

Sonja Mattsson opened the door.

But she was not dressed in transparent veils. She had rollers in her hair. Just like the ones Joel had seen in Sara’s hair. He couldn’t help pulling a face. He’d been so sure she would open the door wearing nothing apart from transparent veils.

“Have you never seen rollers before?” she asked.

Joel blushed. She had seen through him.

“Yes, I have,” he said. “But not on you.”

She looked at him in surprise.

“What had you expected?”

Joel gave a start. She had read his thoughts. He waited for what was coming next. No doubt she would box his ears and throw him out. She might go to the local newspaper and tell the editor. Next week everybody would be able to read about it.

Joel Gustafson thinks forbidden thoughts.

The veil man Joel Gustafson still at large.

“How much longer are you going to stand there gaping?” she asked. “It’s drafty.”

Joel stepped into the hall.

“Hang your jacket up and come in. But take your boots off first.”

This time he didn’t hide a mitten or his scarf. He followed her into the living room. She had sat down and tucked her feet up. She was wearing a pink dressing gown. He could see a bit of one thigh, but he didn’t dare to look properly.

She nodded at his feet.

“No holes in your socks,” she said.

“My mum has darned them,” said Joel.

She had lit a cigarette, and looked thoughtful as she blew a few rings.

“People talk a lot in this dump,” she said.

“Yes, you can’t have any secrets here.”

“People talk,” she said again. “About this and that. When you serve in a shop you get to hear all kinds of interesting things. Do you know what I heard today? After you’d left?”

Joel shook his head.

“That what that old lady said was true. That you don’t have a brother called Digby. You don’t have a brother at all, in fact.”

She didn’t seem angry when she said that. She was smiling. A friendly smile. Joel realized that he had no choice but to tell her the truth.

“I wanted to sell you some Christmas magazines,” he mumbled. “So I was forced to invent Digby.”

Joel told her about Otto. About having to pay him three kronor. She burst out laughing. But she still didn’t seem angry.

“Everybody’s talking about Joel Gustafson,” she said when it became obvious that Joel wasn’t going to say any more about the magazines.

“Nothing they say is true,” said Joel.

“Oh, the odd grain of truth comes out,” she said. “But I agree that the old ladies come out with lots of things they haven’t a clue about.”

“This dump is full of gossips,” said Joel. “You can’t even piss in the snow without everybody getting to hear about it.”

She laughed again.

“Just now, everybody’s talking about you,” she said. “Everybody thinks it was terrific of you to save the life of that old man.”

“Simon Windstorm,” said Joel. “That’s his name.”

“Windstorm?”

“Yes, Windstorm.”

“I wish I’d been called that,” she said. “It sounds better than Mattsson.”

“It sounds better than Gustafson as well.”

“People talk,” she said again. “Today somebody told me you didn’t have a brother. But they also said that you don’t have a mother.”

I’m off, Joel thought. She knows everything. She’ll soon come out with the veils business. She can read thoughts. She doesn’t just listen to gossipy old women.

“It’s none of my business, of course,” she said. “But obviously, I wonder who it is that does darn your wooly socks.”

“I do it myself,” said Joel. “I do all the shopping and the cooking. I’m my own mum. But that means I don’t have to put up with somebody nagging at me all the time. If I want there to be some nagging, I do it myself.”

She suddenly looked serious.

“I’m only asking because I’m curious,” she said. “That’s one of my big faults. I’m much too curious.”

“So am I,” said Joel. “But I don’t think it’s a fault.”

She stubbed out her cigarette. Joel looked at her red lips. He could feel his passions stirring. What if those lips could teach him how to kiss? That would be a bit different from the Greyhound doing it.

“I’ve made tea,” she said, rising to her feet. “Would you like some?”

“Yes, please,” said Joel.

He hated tea. All it did was make him want to pee. But this was Sonja Mattsson offering him tea. So he couldn’t possibly say no.

She came back with two cups and a teapot. Joel tasted it. It tasted awful, but he drank it even so.

“Tell me what happened,” she said. “Out there in the snow.”

Joel told her the facts. How he had found Simon and dragged him back to the house. As she seemed to be able to check absolutely everything, he didn’t dare to exaggerate. Although he would have liked to do, of course.

“You must be strong,” she said. “And persistent.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Joel. “You just do the best you can.”

She put down her cup and lit another cigarette.

“Do you smoke?” she asked.

Joel was on the point of saying he did, but managed to stop himself in time. If he lit a cigarette he would start coughing immediately.

He shook his head. He didn’t want a cigarette.

“Now you can ask me,” she said. “Only two questions. No more.”

Joel thought. Two questions were not many. He would have to be careful. What did he want to know most?

“Why have you come here?” he asked.

That was what he wanted to know more than anything else. How could somebody who lived in Stockholm choose of their own free will to move to a dump like this?

“I needed to get away,” she said. “Things got a bit too much for me.”

Joel noticed that she had changed. Her face was much more serious now.

He wondered if he’d asked something inappropriate.

“There were too many men,” she went on. “And some of them wouldn’t leave me alone. That’s why I came here. I don’t know how long I’ll stay. We’ll have to see. How I get on. How I feel. What happens. And if I can stand the long winter.”

Joel tried to work out the significance of what she’d said. Too many men? What did she mean by that? And that they wouldn’t leave her alone?

There was no doubt about what the next question would have to be. Joel didn’t need to hesitate. He was curious and he couldn’t deny that he was jealous.

“Who were you with at the cinema the other night?”

She sat there with her teacup halfway to her mouth.

“How do you know I was at the cinema?”

“I was there,” said Joel. “But the film wasn’t very good.”

“It was adults only,” she said. “And you’re not fifteen yet.”

“I get in through a secret door,” said Joel.

She put her cup down.

“Now you’re telling me lies,” she said.

She seemed angry for the first time.

“It’s true,” said Joel.

“How did the film end?” she asked abruptly.

“I don’t know.”

“There you are! You’re lying!’

“I had to leave just before the end. If I hadn’t, Engman would notice that I’d sneaked in. If I’d still been there when the lights went up.”

“Who’s Engman?”

“The caretaker who runs the place.”

“I still don’t believe you. You weren’t there.”

“I can tell you what happened when there were only five minutes left.”

The words came pouring out of his mouth. He talked and talked until she believed him. He retold the story of the film back to front. He told her about the door in the basement. The only thing he didn’t mention was the Greyhound.

She had started smiling again. She believed him.

“OK, we were both at the cinema,” she said. “And you want to know who I was with?”

“Who were you sitting next to, holding hands?”

Joel heard to his surprise that he sounded angry. And she had noticed.

“That will have to be my secret,” she said. “I let him hold my hand, but that’s all.”

“You didn’t put any veils on for him?”

Joel almost bit his tongue off. But it was too late. He couldn’t pull the words back into his mouth. They weren’t on strings. Joel had often thought how useful it would be, when he’d said something he regretted, if he could haul the words back in.

She looked at him in astonishment.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“Nothing,” said Joel, quickly.

He could see that he’d set her thinking.

“You gave Otto three kronor so that you could sell me a magazine,” she said slowly. “And I think you left that mitten behind on purpose. You sounded almost angry when you told me that you’d seen me at the cinema with somebody who was holding my hand. And you even invented a brother who doesn’t exist. Why?”

Joel could feel himself blushing. He stared down at the floor.

“I don’t bite,” she said. “I neither sting nor scratch. Unless I want to. And I don’t want to just now. Come on, what did you say?”

Her voice sounded gentle now. Joel almost dared to look at her.

“I don’t gossip,” she said. “It will stay within these four walls. Just between you and me. Cross my heart.”

Joel looked up at her.

“Cross my heart,” she said again. “Cross my heart.”

Joel didn’t dare. But he said it even so. He thought he would drop down dead on the spot.

“I thought you’d be wearing transparent veils when you opened the door. Nothing else.”

He said it very quietly. And very fast. But she heard.

“Why did you want that to happen? And why me?”

“I don’t know. But it was going to be a secret.”

She leaned back in her chair and looked at him. Joel hardly dared to meet her eye. He hoped she wasn’t going to throw him out the window. That she’d let him leave through the door.

He said as much.

“My dad, Samuel, would appreciate it if I got back home alive. I’m going now.”

He started to stand up.

“You have time for another cup of tea,” she said. “I’ll just boil some more water.”

She took the teapot with her into the kitchen. Joel noticed that he was covered in sweat. Maybe he ought to take this opportunity to sneak out. She wouldn’t be able to see the hall from the kitchen.

But he stayed on the chair. Heard the clattering noises in the kitchen. Then everything went quiet. He waited.

All of a sudden, there she was. In the kitchen door way. And she was naked. Apart from something very thin, a net curtain perhaps. Or a veil. Joel stared.

Then she disappeared.

She came back into the room a couple of minutes later. Now she was wearing the pink dressing gown again. And carrying the teapot.

“I saw you,” Joel said.

She looked surprised.

“Saw what?”

“The veils.”

She frowned.

“Are you suggesting I stood here wearing veils?”

“In the kitchen doorway.”

“You must have been dreaming.”

Joel thought for a moment. He realized that she was creating a secret that they could share. There was no better way of protecting a secret than claiming that what happened was really just a dream.

“Yes,” said Joel. “I suppose it was just a dream.”

“That will never come back,” she said. “Remember that.”

She said it with a smile. But firmly.

“No, I don’t suppose it will ever come back,” said Joel. “You only have dreams like that once.”

They sat drinking their tea in silence.

“You’d better go home now,” she said. “It’s late and I need to get some sleep.”

Joel put on his boots and jacket in the hall. She stood in the doorway, watching him.

“Thank you for the dream,” he said when he was ready to go.

“It was nothing much,” she said. “It was so little that it was almost nothing at all.”

When Joel emerged into the street he turned round. She was standing in the window. When he waved, she waved back.

He walked home through the dark. It was a starry night, and cold. He felt as if he were in a church.

The whole world was a church.

The street home was an aisle between rows of invisible pews.

He had seen her naked. Just for a second. Or maybe two. But he knew now. It wasn’t like the pictures in Otto’s magazines. Or at least, not only like that. There was more to it than that.

Several times he was forced to pause. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in again.

Then he started running.

If the Greyhound had been there, he would have been able to catch up with her for the first and perhaps the only time.

He felt he simply had to tell somebody about it. Despite the fact that he wasn’t allowed to. He’d promised.

Then he stopped dead. There was one person, he thought, who was guaranteed not to gossip. He turned off into a different street, and started running again.

He was less frightened this time. The churchyard didn’t seem so threatening. He stood in front of Lars Olson’s head stone. Where he had made his New Year’s resolutions. He could announce that one of his resolutions had come true already.

“I’ve seen a naked woman,” he said. “Sonja Mattsson.”

The headstone said nothing.

“I want Simon to be fit again,” he muttered. “I don’t want him to die.”

He didn’t get an answer. But then, he hadn’t expected one.

He set off running again. He was on his way home now. Samuel would be sitting with the wireless on, waiting for him. Or perhaps he would have gone to bed and be asleep already?

But when he entered the kitchen, the black avalanche engulfed him again.

Samuel wasn’t at home. He had vanished.

Joel slumped onto a chair and howled out loud. It sounded like a foghorn.

He didn’t have any strength left. Samuel could drink himself to death, if that was what he wanted.

But surely that wasn’t what he wanted? Joel was convinced of that. All the time Samuel kept on doing things he didn’t want to do.

There was a half-empty cup of coffee on the table. Joel dipped a finger into it.

The coffee was still warm.

Joel jumped to his feet.

That meant Samuel couldn’t have been away for long.

Maybe Joel would be able to catch him before he started drinking.

Joel grabbed his wooly hat.

And went out again.