The Hand that Trembles

The Hand that Trembles by Kjell Eriksson Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: The Hand that Trembles by Kjell Eriksson Read Free Book Online
Authors: Kjell Eriksson
knowledge! But sometimes he wondered if his wife was still alive, and if so, how she was doing. Had she taken up with someone new?  
    Sven-Arne suddenly stood up, walked over and turned on the television, found the remote control, and started to cruise through the channels.  
    He sank down on the bed and stared unseeing at a film. A woman ran up a gentle slope, paused at a tree, melodramatically surveyed a valley, and then started a languishing song. Sven-Arne gathered that she had run away from her husband and was now looking for the man she had loved from early youth. Always the same story, he thought, convinced that she or her beloved would die before the film came to an end.
    He pressed the remote and came to the local news channel. There was a picture of the Swedish king in the background, as well as Taj West End hotel, one of the more luxurious in the city.
    Sven-Arne chuckled. The events of the afternoon and evening were such an unlikely chain of events that it was almost a parody. First the memories of his childhood streets, then the meeting with the Swedish couple in MG Road, then Jan Svensk at Koshy’s, and now the Swedish head of state on the television screen. Maybe Jan Svensk was in town for the Swedish activities that the news anchor was talking about? The Swedish Trade Council was opening an office in Bangalore and had invited King Carl Gustaf for the event.
    The streets were probably crawling with Swedes. He had to be careful. It was completely possible that there were others among the accompanying Swedes, beyond Jan Svensk, who would recognise him as the missing politician.
    Sven-Arne Persson fell asleep very late. The last conscious thought in his head was centred on the children of St Mary’s school. How would they react if he simply disappeared from town, as much as he had always lectured them on the importance of punctuality? 

SIX
     
     
    It was just before two o’clock. The sound from the street had abated in intensity but a car or motorcycle would occasionally drive down the monsoon-ravaged street. It had been one of the rainiest Bangalore Octobers in memory and this had left its mark. The streets were ruined, large potholes created dangerous traps, the water had turned the surface to washing boards, and whole pavements had collapsed, so undermined had they become.
    And still it rained. More sporadically in the interior and not as violently as two, three weeks ago, but as recently as the past few days hundreds of people had died. Weddings had been rendered impossible because brides and bridegrooms had not been able to be brought together. School instruction had been suspended and everyone talked of ‘the great depression.’ Jan Svensk finally understood that this referred to a powerful low pressure weather system out at sea.
    In addition, it was unexpectedly cold. The newspaper, which appeared tucked into the door handle every morning, indicated that it was time to get out one’s winter clothes, as the temperature the day before had sunk to the record low of fifty-six degrees.
    The hospitals had been deluged by those seeking assistance, suffering coughs and fevers, and even Svensk had been stricken by ‘the big depression.’ He could not sleep, and it was not the rain that was keeping him awake, nor – as in the first few days – the jet lag; it was his thoughts of Sven-Arne Persson, and by extension Uppsala and his own life. Anxiety caused him to writhe on his bed, turn on the reading lamp, open a book for a while only to lay it aside, turn out the light, and try once again to fall asleep.
    Now he had given up. He glanced at the telephone. Should he call home to Elise? It was only half past nine in the evening in Uppsala. But he abandoned the thought. They had spoken recently and she would wonder why he was calling so soon after they last talked. A conversation that contained the usual phrases but lacked all warmth. Jan Svensk had replaced the receiver with sadness, well aware that

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