A Bridge to the Stars

  'He's dead now,' says Samuel. 'This morning he got out of bed and made coffee. He had no idea he was going to go into the forest and die, Evert Petterson . . . '

  He raises his head and looks at Joel. His helplessness makes him seem so small. Just as small as when he's spent some nights scrubbing away his demons. Just as small as when he's been drinking and stays in bed punishing himself.

  'The forest is no place to be,' says Joel. 'Why don't we move away from here? Why don't you become a sailor again? Next time it'll be your head the tree falls down onto. What shall I do then? Move in with old Mrs Westman downstairs? Or go and live with Sara?'

  He hadn't intended to say that last bit. The words just came tumbling out. But Samuel doesn't react. He just continues looking miserable.

  'I've thought about that, in fact,' he says. 'About what will happen to you if anything happens to me. I've thought about that . . . '

  'I'm not moving in with Sara,' says Joel. 'I'd rather live with Simon Windstorm.'

  Samuel looks at him in surprise.

  'Whatever for?' he says. 'The man's mad. . . '

  'He's not mad at all,' says Joel. 'I think he's very sensible.'

  Samuel shakes his head.

  'That's not on,' he says. 'But I have thought about it . . . '

  'If we move away from here you don't need to think about it,' says Joel. 'There aren't any trees at sea.'

  'There are other things at sea,' says Samuel. 'Other things that can fall on your head.'

  The water has started boiling on the stove. Joel adds three spoonfuls from the coffee tin and counts slowly to nine, just as Samuel does when he makes coffee. He takes out two cups, one each.

  'Do you drink coffee?' asks Samuel. 'I didn't know that.'

  'Sometimes,' says Joel. 'Half a cup.'

  Samuel gives Joel a funny look. As if Joel were somebody he'd never seen before.

  'You're eleven now,' he says. 'Nearly twelve. I keep forgetting that . . . '

  He stirs his coffee.

  It seems to Joel that he has to continue now, when Samuel is in a sorrowful mood, when he doesn't look capable of getting angry.

  'I don't like Sara,' he says. 'Why do you keep on seeing her?'

  'There's nothing wrong with Sara,' says Samuel. 'She's OK. She puts me in a good mood. She laughs her way through life even though she's endured a lot of things bad enough to make her cry.'

  'Don't we laugh, then?' says Joel.

  'Don't keep comparing all the time,' says Samuel. 'Sometimes I miss her something terrible, I do so miss . . . '

  Samuel breaks off without finishing the sentence.

  'Mum, Jenny?' suggests Joel.

  Samuel nods. Now he seems so small he can barely reach up to the table.

  'Of course I miss Jenny,' he says. 'But she ran off. I don't want to miss her. I don't want to miss somebody who doesn't miss me.'

  'How do you know that?' asks Joel.

  Samuel suddenly grows up and is big again.

  'She left me,' he says. 'She ran away from me and you and all the things we were going to do. We were only going to stay here for a few years, while you were little. I was a sailor, this was the only other job I could get at that time. We thought it was a good idea to live here where neither of us had been before. Only for a few years. After that I would sign up with some ship or other again. But then she simply vanishes . . . '

  Samuel smashes one of his fists hard down on the table.

  'Not a word for all these years,' he says. 'Not a single word. I don't know if she's still alive, or what she's doing. . . '

  'She had an itch,' says Joel. 'That's what Mrs Westman downstairs thinks.'

  'Mrs Westman? That old hag downstairs?' says Samuel. 'What does she know about it?'

  Joel doesn't know what to do next. He wants to talk about his mother and he wants to talk about Sara, but it's not possible to talk about them both at the same time.

  Samuel suddenly stands up.

  'I don't want any food,' he says. 'You can make whatever you want for yourself. I know you can. I'm going out for a bit.'

  'Don't go to Sara,' Joel begs. 'Don't go to her.'

  'I'll go to whoever I want to go to,' says Samuel, glaring at him with a frown.

  Joel can see the dangerous glint in his eye.

  'Joel,' says Samuel. 'Somebody threw a stone through Sara's window. It wasn't you by any chance, was it?'

  Oh yes, thinks Joel. It was me. It was Joel Gustafson who threw that stone. It was Joel Gustafson who lugged the ladder over the street, it was Joel Gustafson who peeped in through the window and saw Samuel Gustafson sitting naked on Sara's bed, showing off his scar. It was me, Joel Gustafson, who threw that stone and hoped it would hit Sara on the top of her head and that she'd get a bump so big that she couldn't wear that red hat of hers any more. . .

  That's what he thinks. But what he says is different.

  'No,' he says. 'I haven't been throwing stones.'

  Now I must be careful not to look away, he thinks. If I do, Samuel will know it was me.

  He looks at Samuel and tries to think about something else. The dog heading for a star. He can think about that.

  'I just wondered,' says Samuel. 'But it happened in the middle of the night, so it could hardly have been you. Unless you've started sleepwalking again . . . '

  'I haven't been sleepwalking,' says Joel.

  Samuel puts on his boots. Then his leather jacket and his fur hat, in the same order as usual.

  'Come with me,' he says out of the blue. 'Come with me to Sara's. I'm sure she'll make you a bite to eat.'

  Go with him to Sara's? Joel stares at Samuel. Does he really mean it?

  'Come,' says Samuel. 'Let's go together.'

  Joel is pleased, thrilled to bits.

  But how can he feel pleased when meeting Sara is the last thing he wants to do? He can't understand it.

  But when Samuel asks him to accompany him it's like him becoming Joel's father again. It's like putting your feet in a bowl of warm water when you're cold. Your whole body glows with warmth.

  'Are you coming or aren't you?' asks his dad.

  Joel nods. He's coming.

  As they walk through the streets in the wintry darkness Joel thinks how odd it is that somebody has died in the forest that day of all days. The very day he'd decided to get lost in the forest on purpose and freeze to death in a snowdrift.

  He walks close to his dad. It's ages since he last did that.

  'Are you sad?' asks Joel.

  'Yes,' replies his father. 'It's so hard to grasp that Evert is no longer with us. It's so hard when death strikes like this. And he was only twenty-four. No more than twice your age. He said only the other day that he'd soon have saved up enough money for a motorbike. He was so proud of that. And now he's gone . . . '

  'What happens when you die?' asks Joel.

  'If only I knew,' says his dad. 'But I don't.'

  Joel doesn't know who Evert was. He's only met one of his father's workmates, and his name is Nilson but everybody calls him The Wizard. He's short and fat and speaks a funny dialect. He came back home with Samuel once, for coffee. Joel heard them talking about clubbing together to buy a rowing boat so that they could go fishing, but they got no further than talking about it. Joel heard nothing more about a boat.

  He still can't grasp that he's on his way to Sara's with his dad. What he finds hardest to understand is that it's making him feel happy. First of all he's so desperate, he runs in the middle of the night to throw a stone through her window, and the next evening he's on his way to visit her with his father. He still doesn't like her. That hasn't changed. But he's going even so.

  Grown-ups are not like children, he thinks. They don't understand that you can do things even if you don't want to. They don't understand that a mum who's vanished can never be replaced by somebody who wears a red hat and works as a waitress in a bar.

  As they enter the rear courtyard where Sara lives, Joel feels uneasy again. What if hi
s father suddenly stops, grabs him by the back of his neck and asks if it was Joel who threw that stone after all?

  A horrible thought strikes him. What if his father has invited Joel to accompany him so that he can unmask him in front of Sara?

  He stops dead.

  His father turns to look at him.

  'What's the matter?' he asks. 'Have you changed your mind?'

  Joel tries to tell from his father's voice if his suspicion might be true. Just how much does his dad know?

  'We can't stand around here,' says Samuel. 'Come on now, Joel.'

  Joel sets off again, but he still feels a bit uneasy.

  They walk up some dimly lit stairs.

  Sara opens the door even before Samuel has knocked.

  She's expecting him, Joel thinks. But she doesn't know I'm with him.

  'Joel,' she says with a laugh. 'How lovely that you've come as well!'

  Against his will Joel immediately takes to Sara's flat. It's not big, smaller than the one they live in, but it's light and warm, and it smells nice. Besides, she has an electric cooker.

  He decides to pull his head away if she tries to pat him on the cheek, but when she does he doesn't flinch. Doesn't move at all.

  The hardest thing is looking at the broken windowpane without giving himself away.

  The hole made by the stone has been covered by a piece of cardboard. The cracks go right up to the frame.

  He looks at it furtively while pretending to examine a calendar hanging on the wall.

  It's good that he has his back turned to Sara and his dad. They're talking about the glazier, who can't come to mend it until tomorrow. Let's hope they don't talk too long, he thinks. It could look suspicious if he spends too long examining a calendar. But then his father starts talking about the death of Evert, and Sara says she'd heard about it in the bar and it's awful.

  It's not dangerous for Joel to turn round now. He sits down on a chair and listens to the conversation.

  He notices that Sara has tears in her eyes. He hears her saying that she knew Evert. He'd sometimes been in the bar for a beer, but he'd never caused any trouble or had too much to drink.

  Joel finds himself feeling sad as well. He's not sure if it's because of Evert or because Sara has tears in her eyes. He can't sit here and be the only one who isn't sad.

  It could have been me, he would like to say. If I hadn't been to Four Winds Lake I'd probably have frozen to death in a snowdrift. But he doesn't say it, of course. He just sits there quietly, thinking that Sara is so grown up but even so she has little tears in her eyes . . .

  They keep talking about Evert for ages. Sara gives Samuel a beer and Joel a glass of juice. Then she starts making something to eat.

  'Joel thinks we ought to get an electric cooker,' says Samuel all of a sudden.

  'But of course you must have an electric cooker,' says Sara. 'That's obvious, surely?'

  Joel likes Sara a bit more on the spot. But his father ought to have bought a cooker without her having to say anything about it.

  When Sara serves the food Joel realises that he's hungry. He eats and listens. Soon he'll know all there is to know about Evert. Evert who is lying in the mortuary and never got to see Four Winds Lake . . .

  Joel is sitting next to his dad on a kitchen bench very similar to the one they have at home.

  When they've finished eating, he feels how tired he is. How will he manage to find the strength to go out and meet Ture? What he really ought to do is have a good night's sleep and be able to go to school tomorrow without the risk of dozing off at his desk.

  His father notices that Joel is tired.

  'We'll go back home soon,' he says.

  That makes Joel feel even more tired. He knows now that his dad will be sleeping in his own bed tonight.

  When Sara suggests that he might like to have a lie down on the sofa in the other room, the one he'd thrown the stone into, he just nods and follows her. He's too tired to do anything else. More tired than he's ever been before. Besides, if he's in there his dad can't get undressed and show Sara his scar.

  He can lie down in that room and keep guard.

  Sara tucks him up under a blanket. Not in an offhand fashion, as if she were in a hurry to get back to the kitchen and his father. She tucks him in as if she really did want to do it properly.

  'You're a nice boy,' she says. 'Your dad can be proud of you.'

  Joel lies there listening to the conversation in the kitchen. They're still talking about Evert.

  We'll be going home soon, he thinks. Soon . . .

  When he wakes up he has no idea where he is. Then he sees that his dad is lying beside him on the sofa, fast asleep. But he's not naked, he's in his underclothes, his long johns and a vest that looks like a fishing net. Somebody must have undressed Joel as well. And put him in a flannel nightshirt . . .

  He sits up slowly, being careful not to wake his father. Sara is in her own bed, her head next to the wall.

  They didn't want to wake me up, he thinks. He lies down again. He has one of his dad's arms under his head.

  They didn't want to wake me up. That's the only reason we're still here. But for that we'd have been at home now.

  Suddenly he is wide awake. Ture will be waiting for him by the goods wagons!

  He sees his dad's watch on a chair. The hands are luminous. He takes a close look, being careful not to wake Samuel: a quarter to two. Ture will have been waiting in vain.

  Joel feels his stomach turn over. What will he be able to say? How will he be able to explain why he didn't turn up?

  He snuggles down again, next to his dad.

  Four Winds Lake, he thinks. I'll tell Ture about the trip I had with Simon Windstorm. Then he'll be bound to understand why I couldn't come.

  Joel stares at the hole in the window. He thinks about the dog somewhere out there in the night.

  The dog on its way to a star . . .

  Who is that, playing music for him?

  Joel is dreaming about the rowing boat on Four Winds Lake. Now it's no longer winter. The boat is bobbing among the little ripples and Joel is lying on the bottom, which smells of tar, and gazing up at the blue sky.

  But who's that playing?

  The music is coming from somewhere or other. Somebody he can't see is playing a piano made of crystal glass. The tune keeps repeating itself, over and over again, getting weaker all the time, slower . . .

  He wants to stay in the boat but he finds himself rising up towards the blue sky, as if his body were being forced up by Four Winds Lake, and soon he's hovering high above the boat which he can see a long way down below. . .

  Then he opens his eyes and the tune accompanies him out of the dream. On his chest, just under his chin, is a musical box. Sara has put it there. A little man made of wood is clashing two cymbals. He's standing on the lid of the red musical box.

  Joel watches the little wooden man's arms moving more and more slowly, just as the tune is fading away . . .

  Sara is standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling at him. She's wearing her working clothes, the black skirt and white blouse.

  'Time to get up,' she says.

  'Where's Samuel?' asks Joel.

  But he doesn't need to ask. His father has already been working in the forest for several hours. Sawing and chopping while the snow-covered trees stand all round him, waiting to be felled.

  'You were fast asleep,' says Sara. 'He didn't want to wake you up last night. You were sleeping like a log.'

  Logs don't sleep, he thinks. Logs don't breathe, don't laugh, don't sleep. A log can't think, can't speak. A log is just a log . . .

  He tumbles out of bed and gets dressed. There is a bowl of porridge waiting for him in the kitchen.

  It feels odd, not having to make my own breakfast, he thinks as he eats.

  Sara is standing in front of a wall mirror, combing her hair. She fixes it behind her ears with two hairpins.

  He notices that her ears stick out slightly. Not a lot, but
it's noticeable. And she makes no effort to hide the fact.

  'That was a terrific alarm clock,' he says.

  As he leaves she pats him on the cheek.

  'You'll have to hurry up now,' she says. 'It's late.'

  He takes the short cut through the churchyard, but doesn't jump over Nils Wiberg's family grave.

  He decides to say that he's had a bad cold when Miss Nederström asks him why he hasn't been at school. If he snorts through his nose before entering the classroom, it will get blocked up. Then Miss Nederström will be able to hear that he's had a cold.

  He decides that he's had a temperature of 38.6 degrees. In order to be believed, he must avoid sounding vague. Not 38 degrees, but 38.6.

  To his surprise, however, she doesn't ask and the school day passes without anything unusual happening.

  Otto has fallen ill again, and Joel hopes that he's going to be off school so long that he has to repeat the year again next year. It's a nasty thought, but Joel doesn't care if Otto has to spend the rest of his life repeating the year.

  On the way home he calls in at the grocer's. Svenson is sitting on a chair behind the counter and has a headache.

  'Potatoes,' says Joel. 'And milk. A box of matches.

  And a jar of pickled herring.'

  Svenson groans as he stands up. He blinks hard at Joel, as if he were finding it hard to stay awake.

  'Tell your dad he'd better come in and pay his bills pretty soon now,' he says. 'It's a month since he last paid.'

  Joel promises to pass on the message, but he reckons Svenson can wait for another month. The first priority is buying an electric cooker, and then The Flying Horse. His dad won't have enough money for much more than that.

  When he gets home he sits down at the kitchen table and writes up his logbook.

  He writes about Simon Windstorm and Four Winds Lake. Simon Windstorm has just been released after being captured and held a prisoner for ten years by natives in Sumatra. They go for a walk together round the shore of the remarkable island called Four Winds Island. . .

  Then he sits on the window seat in the hall, waiting for his father to come home.

  It's been thawing. The sun has already gone down, but melted snow is still dripping down from the roof.

  He's worried about seeing Ture later tonight. He hopes Ture won't turn up. He'd prefer to be on his own, looking for the dog, always assuming he goes out at all.