The Journey to the End of the World (Joel Gustafson Stories) by Henning Mankell Read Free Book Online Page B

Black Wave in the mirror a punch.
    Right on the nose. Broke it. Blood came pouring out.
    Nobody stole Joel Gustafson’s rucksack without being punished.
    Joel stared at the mirror. The Black Wave disappeared. The only thing left was himself. Nobody else.
    He went back to the picture hanging on the wall. Stroked the woman with his hand.
    The door opened. It was Samuel coming back. Joel gave a start and fell over backwards. Samuel gave him a funny look, but didn’t say anything.
    When they left the hotel it was still drizzling. Samuel looked around, doubtfully.
    ‘It’s amazing how little you remember,’ he said. ‘I used to visit Stockholm quite a lot. In the old days.’
    ‘That way,’ said Joel, pointing. ‘That’s where most people are heading.’
    Joel was surprised at how big a hurry everybody seemed to be in. Where on earth were all these people going to?
    When they had found a department store and Joel had seen an escalator for the first time in his life, he wondered why people were even running on that, when the stairs were moving anyway.
    They eventually came to the floor with men’s clothing. Both Joel and his father turned pale when they saw the price tags.
    ‘Let’s go,’ said Joel. ‘There must be cheaper clothes than these in other shops.’
    By the time they emerged into the street it had started raining again.
    Joel had started to dislike Stockholm. This wasn’t how he had imagined it. Crowds of people, loud noise everywhere, high prices and rain that never seemed to stop.
    And he couldn’t stop thinking about his rucksack. Stockholm had sent The Black Wave to welcome him. With a sneer.
    ‘We must have something to eat now,’ said Samuel. ‘I noticed a licensed café on the way here.’
    They hurried through the rain and came to the café entrance. Once they were inside, Joel felt at home. The place smelled the same as the bar back home where he sometimes sold newspapers or went to fetch Samuel when he’d had too much to drink. The waitresses wore the same black and white clothes as Sara, and he recognised the stale smell of rain, wet wool and tobacco. They found an empty table and sat down. Joel was already worried that they wouldn’t have enough money. A waitress brought them a menu. Joel leaned over the table to be able to read the menu. Not the choices on offer, but what they cost.
    ‘We can afford this,’ said Samuel. ‘Beef stew.’
    Joel didn’t like beef stew. But he didn’t say anything.
    By the time they finished eating, it had stopped raining again. Whenever the door opened Joel could see the sun shining.
    They had eaten in silence. Joel had been thinking about his rucksack. He didn’t know what Samuel had been thinking about.
    Samuel paid and put his wallet away in the inside pocket of his coat.
    ‘Now we must find a decent map,’ he said. ‘Then we can look for the shop where she works.’
    Joel was surprised.
    ‘Shouldn’t we start by looking for where she lives?’
    ‘Lots of people go in and out of a block of flats,’ said Samuel. ‘But there won’t be nearly as many standing behind the counter in a shop.’
    Joel could see his point.
    ‘I thought you said you would recognise her?’
    ‘Maybe we shouldn’t be over-confident about that,’ said Samuel hesitantly. ‘It’s best to be on the safe side.’
    The only way of being on the safe side would have been not to come here in the first place, Joel thought angrily.
    It was the rucksack again. And The Black Wave.
    They found a bookshop that sold maps. They bought the cheapest one Samuel could find. Then they sat down on a park bench that had had time to dry out, and unfolded the map.
    There was Medborgarplatsen. And here was where they were now.
    ‘There must be a tram that goes there,’ said Samuel.
    But Joel had noticed something else. If they walked, they would pass by the quay where boats were moored.
    ‘Let’s walk,’ he said. ‘It can’t be all that far. And it’s not very late.’
    He pointed