Daniel

  ‘I can skip,’ she replied. ‘Maybe not with these skirts on, but I can.’

  ‘There wasn’t any lion,’ he said again.

  Suddenly the woman stood up. She grabbed his skipping rope, tied up her skirts so that her stockings and a bit of her naked thighs were showing, and started jumping. Her feet thumped hard against the floor. Daniel saw that it was a long time since she had skipped but she hadn’t forgotten how.

  She stopped, pulled down her skirts and sat down again. Daniel was disappointed for a moment. He had wanted to lean against her body where her stockings ended, where the skin was just as white as her fingers. She was out of breath. Her chest was heaving and he saw Be again, although she had never had anything covering her upper body. Kiko liked to play with her breasts. He had given them names, and Be had laughed and replied that she was already with child and didn’t need to hear friendly words about her breasts. Daniel wondered whether he could ask the woman sitting on the floor to take off her clothes, at least above the waist. Since she had skipped and knew that there hadn’t been any lion, maybe it wouldn’t be dangerous to ask. He pointed at the black buttons that held her clothes fastened across her breasts. She gave him a quizzical look.

  ‘Those are called buttons.’

  Daniel already knew that. Every morning Father would yell at his damn collar buttons, especially if he had been drinking the night before.

  ‘Open up,’ he said.

  She gave him a long look and straightened her back as she sat there. Daniel already knew he had done something wrong. But then she changed her mind, unbuttoned the buttons, nine of them, one by one, and then unbuttoned her white linen so he could see her breasts. To his surprise they were like Be’s breasts. All women had different breasts, the same way all men had different chests, but the woman sitting facing him had the same breasts as Be. Daniel couldn’t resist his desire, and he leaned hard against her, and she didn’t pull away even though she stiffened.

  ‘I am your mother,’ said the woman. ‘She is here right now.’

  ‘Be is dead,’ replied Daniel. ‘She died in blood that ran through the sand. When Kiko came she had already stopped breathing. I was lying behind a hill under a kudu hide and the ones who came with spears and guns never found me. But Kiko came too soon. One of them who was left and cutting the ears off those he had killed saw Kiko and shot him in the head.’

  The woman put her arms around him. Daniel felt that Be was very close just now.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know. The men came riding, they were white and had a flag with an eagle. They laughed a lot and they shot everybody and didn’t say why. If we had been animals they would have skinned us. If we had been animals they would have eaten us. But the only thing they did was to kill us and cut off our ears. I heard at Andersson’s once that our ears were stiffened with tallow and then used as bowls for sugar and chocolate.’

  ‘Who was Andersson?’

  ‘He saved my life. He gave me a crate to live in. Then Father came and took me. He called me Daniel, told me to wear shoes on my feet, and brought me here across the sea.’

  Daniel felt a great peace as he told his story pressed against her warm breasts. He could feel her heart beating and smell the sweetish scent of sweat. Something made him remember an experience he had had when he was very small. One night he had woken and gone out to pee in the sand. That night the stars in the sky over the desert were very clear. The stars were eyes that looked at him, saw him pee and saw him yawn. Suddenly he was aware that the stars were looking at him. He had been pulled up from the sand, sucked in as if by an invisible whirlwind towards all these points of light glittering, and he had understood that they were actually very close, the eyes of the gods, and would always be with him. Now he remembered that night as he felt the warmth from her breast, and he knew that he would scream, maybe bite her, if she suddenly pulled away and began to close up her buttons again.

  ‘Then you came here.’

  ‘I came to a town where two girls were skipping in a back courtyard. Father had his bag full of insects, and he used to tie me up when he was afraid I would run away.’

  ‘Where would you go?’

  Daniel thought about that. He knew that there was a word for what he was dreaming of. He knew that there was a place where the water would bear him. A short word. He thought for a long time.

  ‘Home,’ he said eventually. ‘I think it’s called home.’

  She hugged him tenderly and he pressed against her as hard as he could. One of her nipples came close to his mouth and he grasped it with his lips, not to get milk but to stay calm.

  He closed his eyes and dreamed. Her heart was beating. Be was humming somewhere in the background. Kiko had already gone to sleep. The smells were no longer coming from the carpet and Father’s shaving lotion. Now he could sense the black coals from the fire burning down, the rancid smell of the old bark from pilko branches.

  ‘I’ve never held a man close to me,’ she said. ‘Many men have wanted to, they have grabbed for my buttons and looked right through my clothes, but I’ve never held anyone as close as you.’

  Daniel didn’t understand what she meant. He didn’t want to, either. He was already deep in his dreams. The nipple he held in his mouth was Kiko’s hand that led him away towards the mountain where the antelope waited. There was also sleep, Be’s hand against his cheek, the bodies of the whole family pressed tight together, the night that was still long and the dawn that waited beyond all the dreams they would talk about when they were awake again.

  ‘I see your sorrow,’ she said. ‘But I don’t know if you know what that word means.’

  Daniel didn’t answer. He was dreaming.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked.

  ‘I have to learn to walk on water,’ he said. ‘I’m going to walk home across the back of the sea and I have to learn to move so carefully that the animal won’t be upset and swallow me.’

  She asked what he meant. But by then he was already asleep.

  A thunderclap came out of nowhere. The lightning and the rumbling crashed right above his head. He gave a start.

  Father was standing in the doorway.

  He had glazed eyes and stared incredulously at the scene before him. Daniel had raised his head from the woman’s breast. She still had her arms around him.

  Father started yelling.

  ‘Intolerable!’ he shouted. ‘A woman is devouring my son. What the hell is this?’

  Daniel bored his face into her embrace again. Now her breasts were rocks that could give him a hiding place. Be was still close to him. The warmth came from her, and he thought it would soon catch fire and scare Father into flight the way animals were scared with burning torches.

  ‘I’ve been talking to the boy,’ said the woman. ‘I have listened to his story. It isn’t the same as what you told me.’

  ‘Then he’s lying. He’s only a child. A Hottentot from the desert. What does he know about truth and lies? He’s telling you what he thinks you want to hear. Besides, he can’t tell a story. His vocabulary is too limited. What did he say?’

  ‘The truth.’

  ‘Which truth?’

  ‘His own.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘That there wasn’t any lion.’

  Daniel was listening. He could hear from Father’s voice that he was uncertain, but the woman was utterly calm. He could feel that her heart wasn’t beating any faster than before.

  ‘One might regard this situation as extremely indecent,’ said Father. ‘A grown woman who undresses and seduces a child. A black child, besides, who might be carrying diseases no one knows about. If this came out, a trial or mental hospital would be a likely consequence.’

  ‘I’m not afraid.’

  She carefully moved Daniel’s head so that it rested on the carpet. Then she stood up and buttoned her dress.

  ‘I call this sick and dangerous,’ said Father. ‘You have a man cl
ose at hand but you are raping a child.’

  Daniel heard the smack and he knew at once what it was. She had slapped Father in the face with her slender white hand.

  But what happened after that he couldn’t have imagined. A man who is slapped by a woman is supposed to collapse, draw back, cringe. But Father cast himself over her with a roar. He didn’t try to unbutton her dress, but tore and ripped at her clothes so the seams split open. Daniel got up. He tried to get between them but Father tossed him aside and dragged her towards the bed. Daniel thought he should defend her but at the same time he remembered the men who came riding and killed Be and Kiko and then cut off their ears. Father was the same. He would kill her and cut off her ears, and there was nothing for Daniel to do but hide again.

  He rushed out of the room, down the stairs and into the street. It was raining but he didn’t feel it. He ran down towards the water and when he came to the quay he waded out.

  He would never learn to walk on this water. Father would cut off his ears and then there wouldn’t be anything but a dead Daniel far away from those who lay buried in the sand waiting for him.

  He waded into the water. He might as well plunge his head under the surface and then be gone.

  The cold penetrated his body.

  The last thing he thought of was the antelope.

  CHAPTER 18

  The water spoke to him.

  He had expected that death would be a silence, or perhaps the faint echo of rustling grains of sand, but the water had a powerful voice that forced him upwards, forced him to keep breathing. He had walked straight out, deeper and deeper, and he had turned his back to the town and to Father, but when the water forced his head above the surface, his body turned round and he saw the faint lights that still glittered in the darkened streets.

  Then came the cold. He was so cold he was shaking. His muscles cramped and knotted up. He waded ashore as fast as he could and hurried back towards the red-brick building where Father had thrown himself at the woman and torn at her buttons. He had no idea what awaited him but he had to get out of his cold, wet clothes. The water had spoken to him and told him he wasn’t supposed to die. He had to learn to walk on its surface, return to the desert and tell his strange story to all those who might be dead but were still waiting for him. He was alive and had to keep on living. That’s what he understood when his head went under the water. A dead person could never learn to stroke the wet pelt so carefully that he would be allowed to walk on the surface without breaking through. He had to go on living.

  When he reached the red-brick building he saw Father standing outside the gate. A covered coach with two horses hitched to it had driven up. Father stared at him as if he were seeing a ghost.

  ‘Into the coach,’ he said. ‘We’re leaving.’

  ‘I need dry clothes,’ said Daniel.

  Father shook his head. ‘You can change later. We have to leave.’

  The old night porter stood holding a piece of paper and waited for Father to notice him. Without looking at the paper he gave the man some banknotes. The last of the baggage was loaded. Father looked about nervously.

  ‘We’re heading for Örebro,’ he told the man who took the money. ‘To Örebro. Nowhere else.’

  A young boy sat on the coach box. He had an odd-looking fur cap pulled down over his forehead, and Daniel couldn’t see his eyes. Father shoved Daniel into the coach, shouting to the boy on the driver’s seat.

  ‘To Örebro. The main road.’

  Daniel wondered what had happened. A small lamp was lit inside the coach. The flame flickered over Father’s sweaty face and Daniel saw that he had a bloody wound just above one eye. He killed her, Daniel thought. He killed her and now he’s running away.

  Father looked at him. Then he tore open one of the bags inside the coach and pulled out some dry clothes.

  ‘I don’t know what you did,’ he said. ‘Whether you fell into the water or jumped in. Right now I only know one thing.’

  Daniel took off his clothes in the rattling coach. The whole time he heard Father muttering. It sounded like some sort of prayer, but he was just repeating that single word, damn, damn, damn.

  After they had left the town behind, Father pounded on the roof of the coach. The boy stopped the horses. Father opened the door and yelled at him.

  ‘Turn round. We’re going to Stockholm.’

  ‘I haven’t been paid for that,’ replied the boy.

  ‘You will be,’ Father roared in fury. ‘More money than you’ve ever seen in your life.’

  The boy began to pull the reins so the coach turned round. One of the horses whinnied. Daniel shivered. He was still freezing. Father took out one of the bottles he always carried in his luggage.

  ‘Drink this,’ he said.

  Daniel tasted it. It was strong and burned his throat, but he swallowed it and felt the warmth quickly come back into his body. Father wrapped him up in a blanket. His hands were rough and shaking. The coach picked up speed. Now and then they would hear the sound of a whip cracking. Father kept muttering and hissing between tight lips. Daniel waited. What had happened? Why did they have to leave in the middle of the night? He knew it had something to do with the woman, with the buttons that Father had torn off.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

  Father didn’t answer. Daniel pulled the blanket over his head so that he was completely enveloped in his own body heat. Inside the warm darkness he imagined that Father was far away. He was sitting next to him but he was in a completely different world. The coach that shook and rocked gave him the same feeling he had during the long voyage across the sea. The horses were transformed into sails that were stretched taut, the boy on the coach box held not reins in his hands but a wheel. He heard the clink of a bottle. Father was drinking. The whip cracked. The coach shook.

  Daniel didn’t know what time it was, but what Father usually called a long time must have passed before the coach came to a stop. Daniel unwrapped himself from the blanket. It was still dark. Father had opened the door of the coach.

  ‘Why are we stopping?’ he shouted.

  ‘The horses need rest. They need to eat and have some water.’

  ‘We don’t have time.’

  ‘I can’t run them to death.’

  ‘I know about oxen. They could do it.’

  The boy would not relent.

  ‘Oxen and horses aren’t the same thing. In half an hour we’ll drive on.’

  Father slammed the coach door furiously. But he said nothing. He looked at Daniel. His eyes were glazed, but there was something else too, a fear that Daniel had never seen before.

  ‘I did something I shouldn’t have done,’ said Father. ‘I tried to touch her. She scratched me and broke free. We had to leave in a hurry.’

  Daniel waited for more, but it never came. Because he had to pee he climbed out of the coach. The ground was cold under his feet. They were deep in a dense forest. The trees stood black, watching him. He peed. The boy was busy watering the horses.

  ‘Why are you black?’ asked the boy. ‘Were you burned? Or are you made of coal?’

  Father flung open the door.

  ‘Don’t talk. Give the horses what they need so we can get moving.’

  The boy came over to the door. He was short but broad-shouldered. He had taken off his fur cap. Daniel saw that his hair was cut short and very light.

  ‘I want to see the money,’ he said. ‘Or else I won’t go on.’

  Father held up a fistful of notes. The boy tried to snatch them but Father was ready and held them high.

  ‘When we get to Stockholm,’ he said. ‘Not before.’

  The boy kept staring at the money.

  ‘I’ve never seen that much money in my life. So much money and in such a hurry. What’s going on here?’

  He walked back to the horses. Daniel climbed into the coach. Father leaned towards him and whispered, ‘Everything will be all right. I made a mistake, so we had to change our plans. You can’t
always follow a path you plan in advance.’

  ‘Did she die?’ asked Daniel.

  Father stared at him.

  ‘She ran,’ he said. ‘And she might report me. It will be a scandal. I’ll be hunted down. So the plan had to change.’

  Daniel tried to pronounce the name of the man in the red coat. He couldn’t do it. There were too many letters. But Father understood.

  ‘Wickberg will be chasing me too. I don’t know which is worse, ripping off a woman’s clothes or breaking an agreement.’

  He drank from the bottle again. Daniel could see that his hand was shaking.

  ‘We have to start a new life,’ Father said. ‘That life starts tonight.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when I know.’

  The coach began to roll again.

  ‘Try to get some sleep,’ said Father. ‘I have to think.’

  Daniel wrapped himself in the blanket again. He soaked up his own warmth and stroked his face and imagined it was the woman with the slender hands who was touching him.

  Daniel woke up because the coach had stopped. He was alone. Father was standing outside talking to the boy. It was beginning to get light. They were still in a forest, but it was more open now. He could see fields and pastures. A lake glimmered between the trees. There was fog. Daniel felt cold and wrapped the blanket tighter around him. He had been dreaming. The antelope had been inside him. But Kiko wasn’t there. It was as if the antelope had been searching for him, searching for someone who could finish the work, paint its eyes and finish carving the last strokes in its leap.

  Father opened the coach door.

  ‘We’re getting out here,’ he said. ‘The baggage is continuing on to the harbour, but we’re getting out here.’

  Daniel climbed out. His body was stiff. Father seemed just as frightened as he was earlier that night but his eyes were no longer glazed, and Daniel knew that he had made a decision. The boy took down one of the bags that was tied onto the roof.

  ‘I’ll follow you all the way to hell if you don’t do as I told you,’ Father said to the boy.