Italian Shoes by Henning Mankell Read Free Book Online Page B

his left hand. I calmed him down by assuring him that they were normal developments as a man grew older. He would outlive all the rest of us on the islands. When we pensioners have gone, Jansson will still be chugging alongin his old converted fishing boat, or rushing around in his hydrocopter. Unless he’s been made redundant, of course. Which will almost certainly be his fate.
    Jansson glided up to the jetty, switched off the engine and began wriggling out of all his coats and hats. He was red in the face, his hair was standing on end.
    â€˜A Happy New Year to you,’ he said when he was standing on the jetty.
    â€˜Thank you.’
    â€˜Winter is still very much with us.’
    â€˜It certainly is.’
    â€˜I’ve been having a few problems with my stomach since New Year’s Eve. I’ve been finding it hard to go to the toilet. Constipation, as they say.’
    â€˜Eat some prunes.’
    â€˜Could it be a symptom of something else?’
    â€˜No.’
    Jansson had difficulty in concealing his curiosity. He kept glancing up at my house.
    â€˜How did you celebrate New Year?’
    â€˜I don’t celebrate New Year.’
    â€˜I actually bought some rockets this year. Haven’t done that for years. Unfortunately one shot in through the door of the woodshed.’
    â€˜I’m usually fast asleep by midnight. I see no reason why I should change that habit simply because it’s the last day of the year.’
    Jansson was dying to ask about Harriet. No doubt she hadn’t told him who she was, just that she wanted to visit me.
    â€˜Have you any post for me?’
    Jansson looked at me in astonishment. I’d never asked him that before.
    â€˜No, nothing,’ he said. ‘There never is much in the way of post at this time of year.’
    The conversation and consultation were over. Jansson took one last look at the house, then clambered down into his hydrocopter. I started walking away. As he switched the engine on, I put my hands over my ears. I turned and watched him disappear in a cloud of snow round the headland generally known as Antonsson’s Point, after the skipper of a cargo boat who’d had a drop too much to drink and ran aground while on the way to beach his craft for the winter.
    Harriet was sitting at the kitchen table when I went in.
    I could see that she had been making herself up. In any case, she was less pale than she had been before. It struck me again how good-looking she was, and what an idiot I’d been to ditch her.
    I sat down at the table.
    â€˜I shall take you to the forest pool,’ I said. ‘I’ll keep my promise. It’ll take two days to get there in my old car. We’ll have to spend one night in an hotel. And I should say that I’m not sure I’ll be able to find my way there. Up in those parts, the logging tracks keep changing, according to where the felling is taking place. And even if I can find the right track, it’s by no means sure that it will be passable. I might need to find somebody with a plough attachment for his tractor who can open up theroad for us. It will take at least four days altogether. Where do you want me to take you, when it’s all over?’
    â€˜You can just leave me at the side of the road.’
    â€˜At the side of the road? With your walker?’
    â€˜I managed to get here, didn’t I?’
    There was an edge in her voice, and I didn’t want to persist. If she preferred to be left at the side of the road, I wasn’t going to argue.
    â€˜We can set off tomorrow,’ I said. ‘Jansson can take you and your walker to the mainland.’
    â€˜What about you?’
    â€˜I’ll walk over the ice.’
    I got up, as it had dawned on me that there was an awful lot for me to do. First of all I needed to make a catflap in the front door, and make sure that my dog could use the kennel that had been abandoned for many years. I would have to