The Journey to the End of the World (Joel Gustafson Stories) (9 page)

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Authors: Henning Mankell

BOOK: The Journey to the End of the World (Joel Gustafson Stories)
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Now he was outside. He had remembered to take the map with him. It had dried out now, but it was crumpled. Then it occurred to him that perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to sneak around Stockholm at night with a map in your hand. He put it in his pocket and started walking. It was a warm summer’s night. Even though it was late there were a lot of people out in the streets. A tram clattered past. He could hear music coming from somewhere or other. On the other side of the street, two men were approaching, swaying unsteadily and trying to support each other.
He passed by the Royal Palace and came to the square where he’d failed to find a grocer’s shop. The pavement café was closed, the chairs and tables covered by a canvas sheet. There were fewer people about now. And not so much traffic. But he noticed a police car. He crouched down, as if trying to make himself invisible. The police car passed by. Joel stood in front of an illuminated shop window and took out the map. He found Östgötagatan. Left, right, then left again. He took a step forward. Then another. How many more metres would he have to go before he found himself standing outside Mummy Jenny’s home?
He tried to act like a grown-up. It was childish to wander around in the night, looking for a block of flats where a missing mum lived. But there again, it could be a grown-up thing to do. He remembered how Samuel had gone out roaming the streets when he had been madly in love with Sara.
He turned left, then right. He could hear a man and a woman arguing about money through an open window. He would never be like that. An adult arguing about money. On a warm summer’s night.
Then he stopped dead. What would happen if Samuel woke up? He might be so worried, he’d phone the police.
But then he calmed down. Samuel wouldn’t do that. In the first place he never woke up during the night. And besides, he knew that Joel could look after himself.
Left again. He’d soon be there. If the map was right. If the letter from Elinor was right. If what Samuel said was in the letter was right. If everything was right.
If in fact he really did have a mother called Jenny.
He looked at the street sign.
Östgötagatan.
It ought to be number 32. He crossed over the street, so that he was on the side with odd numbers.
First a brown building, then a red one with a furniture shop. Then a brown one, and another, then a grey one.
Then he was there.
He held his breath.
The number ‘32’ was on an oval plate over the front door, lit up by a lamp. He looked up at the façade. Nearly all the windows were dark. People were asleep. Mummy Jenny was asleep. Somewhere up there behind a window.
He put his hand over his mouth to stop himself shouting out her name.
But he would never do that. It happened sometimes that he did things without knowing why, but not anything like that. He would never stand in a street shouting out names.
The light went out in another window.
Joel decided to cross over the street. Perhaps the front door wasn’t locked? In that case he’d be able to read the names of everybody who lived in the flats.
And then it dawned on him.
He had no idea what Mummy Jenny’s surname was. If Samuel had never married her, it couldn’t be Gustafson.
But he could check even so. Maybe people’s first names would be listed as well.
Jenny Andersen, he thought.
Jenny Svensson.
Jenny Jansson.
Jenny Jesus Mary.
Jenny Joelsson.
Jenny Jennyson.
Jenny the mum who just ran away, damn her.
Enough of that. A car was approaching. When it had gone past he would cross the street and try the door.
The car passed by.
He was just going to start walking when the door on the opposite side of the street opened.
Joel didn’t move a muscle.
A woman came out.
She glanced at him. Then set off walking along the pavement.
He could see in the light from a streetlamp that she was wearing a green coat.
6
Something was hurting his arm.
When Joel looked to see what it was, he realised that he was pinching it himself. He watched the woman walking down the street. And told himself that her wearing a green coat meant nothing at all. It was thirteen years since Mummy Jenny left them. This couldn’t be the same coat. There was nothing to say that this woman was Mummy Jenny. There were no doubt lots of women living in that building.
Joel was sure he was imagining things. It was always the same. Imagining things that led him to reach false conclusions.
Nevertheless, he crossed the street and started following the woman. Perhaps he would catch a glimpse of her face? Samuel always used to say that he looked so much like his mum.
She turned a corner. Joel increased his pace. He was missing his trainers now. He cursed The Black Wave, who couldn’t keep his hands off Joel’s rucksack.
He peered cautiously round the corner. She had stopped and was looking round. Then she crossed over the street. Her heels clicked on the paving stones. A nearby clock struck twelve. Midnight. Joel tried to think where she might be going. In the middle of the night. On her own. And she seemed to be in a hurry.
Who needed to hurry when it was turned midnight?
Now she turned another corner. Joel increased his pace again. Perhaps she would disappear through some door or other before he had a chance to see which? He peered round this corner: there she was. Still hurrying along. Heels clicking.
Joel kept on following her. As long as he didn’t know for certain, this could be Mummy Jenny.
She suddenly stopped and turned round. Joel just managed to sidle into the shadows. Had she seen him? He held his breath and waited. If she retraced her steps to see who it was following her, he would run off as fast as he could. But perhaps she would scream for help? What would he do then?
He held his breath. Then he heard her start walking again. Her footsteps were getting softer. He counted to five then peeped out. Waited. Then continued following her.
They came to a square. Some young people were sitting on a bench. One of them looked like The Black Wave. But it wasn’t him.
She stopped again. In front of a shop window this time. Then she set off once more. When Joel came to the window he saw it belonged to an ironmonger’s.
Why would Mummy Jenny be interested in tools?
It didn’t fit in.
But then, nothing fitted in.
‘I don’t know if it is her,’ he said aloud to himself. ‘I just want to see her face, in order to be sure. I just want to see if I recognise myself in her.’
He darted into the shadows once more. She had stopped.
This time she went in through a gate. Joel hurried over to the other side of the street. The gate led into a courtyard in front of a large house. It looked like a school. He could see that there was a sign over the imposing entrance, but it was too dark and too far away for him to read it. There were steps leading up to the door. He watched her open it and walk into a brightly lit hall. Then the door closed behind her. She had vanished.
Joel waited. Then he crossed the street and read what it said over the entrance.
The Autumn Light Foundation.
Joel had no idea what a foundation was. And why was it called
Autumn Light
?
There was a streetlamp close to the gate. He slunk into the shadows.
What on earth was he doing? Somebody comes out of the front door of the building where his mother might possibly live. So he follows her. When he ought really to be asleep in bed in his hotel room.
That almost gave him a bad conscience. Samuel didn’t have much money. But he had paid for a hotel room, and Joel wasn’t even using the bed. He made up his mind to spend as much time as possible in it the following day.
He also made up his mind to leave. But he stayed.
He made up his mind not to open the gate.
Then he opened it.
But I’m not going to go as far as the steps, he told himself.
Then he walked up to the steps. But he didn’t dare to open the door. He tried to listen. But there wasn’t a sound to be heard.
There was a wide gravel path surrounding the house.
I’m not going to walk along that, he told himself.
Then he started walking.
The building was very large, with lots of windows. Most of them were dark, but there were lights on here and there. Very bright lights.
Autumn Light
, he thought. The light of Autumn. What kind of a building could this be?
There was a large garden at the back. He paused outside a shed. The doors were standing open, and inside were several old wheelchairs.
Curiouser and curiouser. No doubt he would have been scared stiff some years ago. But not now.
It was just odd.
He continued walking and came to a side door. He noticed immediately that it was ajar.
I’m not going to go in, no matter what, he told himself.
Then he found himself taking hold of the door handle. The door creaked. But only a little. It was light inside. He let go of the handle and the door closed.
Then he opened it again.
I can always say I’m lost, he thought. They’ll hear that from the way I speak. Here’s a young man who’s very lost indeed. He’s come all the way from the north of Sweden.
I can also say that I’ve been sleepwalking. And that I’m staying at a hotel, but can’t find my way back.
He listened. There was a single ceiling light. Not a sound. He slipped in through the door and made sure it didn’t close of its own accord. For safety’s sake he placed a small twig between the door and the jamb.
There was a strange smell. Musty. Old. But something else as well. Then it dawned on him what it was. Hospital.
He remembered the smell from the time when he’d been almost killed by a bus and had to spend some time in hospital.
But how could a hospital be called anything but a hospital?
Autumn Light
? It seemed strange. He tiptoed along the corridor and came to a wide double door. He opened it carefully and peeped inside. There was a stretcher trolley along one of the walls, and next to it a wheelchair.
Now he knew it was a hospital. He listened. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a door being opened and then closed again. Then all was quiet once more. He stepped cautiously back into the corridor. How would he be able to find the woman in the green coat among all these doors? He crept along the corridor, expecting somebody to appear at any moment. He was rehearsing his excuses all the time. That he was lost, had come all the way from Norrland. Or that he was a sleepwalker who had gone astray while taking a nocturnal stroll.
All the doors looked the same. He decided to open one at random. He peeped in and could see that it was almost completely dark. Just a faint light from a lamp in one corner. He went in. His eyes got used to the darkness, and he saw that he was in a room with a lot of beds.
The room was filled with snores. There was a squeaking and sighing and grinding and singing. He took another couple of paces forward, and saw that there were very old people in each of the beds.
A hospital, he thought. Or an old people’s home. Or a mixture of the two.
There was a strong, pungent smell. In one of the beds was an old man who wasn’t snoring. Joel suddenly had the feeling that the man was watching him through half-closed eyes.
And then he thought the man was dead.
The panic came from nowhere. Joel raced out of the room and paid no attention to the fact that the door creaked.
As he hurtled into the corridor he heard voices. A door opened and closed. The voices were getting louder. Joel turned round and ran back along the corridor. But he no longer knew which door he’d just come out of. There were lots of double doors. The voices were very close now. Joel ducked in through the nearest door. He heard footsteps going past in the corridor. Two women talking. And then all was quiet again.
The room was suddenly lit up. Joel whipped round, but there was nobody there. Then he realised that he must have brushed against the light switch with his shoulder. He was about to switch off again when he saw that he was in some kind of changing room. There were rows of lockers and benches. And there was a name on every locker door.
Mummy Jenny, he thought. If it really was you coming here tonight, your name will be on one of these lockers.
Doctor Jenny, or Nurse Jenny. Or Manager Jenny.
He started to work his way along the rows of lockers. Nearly all of them had women’s names on the door. There was an Arne Bergström and somebody called Hagge K, but all the rest were women.

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