And spring duly arrives. At long last.
One day Joel sees his first cowslip beside a ditch where the meltwater is bubbling downstream. The days get longer, and the black waters of the river start slowly forcing their way up through the thick covering of ice. Cracks appear in the white lid, and the floes start working their way free. Before long all the snow will have disappeared from the streets. The yellow local council lorries will sweep up the remains of the sand and gravel, and one day the first copious rains of spring will arrive. It will rain non-stop for at least twenty-four hours, and afterwards, the only remnants will be the remains of the piles at crossroads, and up against the cemetery wall.
One day the kitchen is lit up by the glow from an electric cooker.
The old wood-burning stove has been dumped in the garden, and Joel almost feels sorry for it. It's now surplus to requirements. If nobody finds a use for it, it will disappear under a covering of grass, and slowly disappear into the ground.
One day in the middle of April they go to the cycle shop, and The Flying Horse is still there in the window.
Joel sees that his dad is put out when he discovers the price; but he doesn't say a word, just takes out his wallet and pays up. Joel cycles home as proud as Punch.
That night when he rode the bike into a snowdrift and was rescued by The Old Bricklayer seems a very long way in the past.
As the nights get lighter, all the memories of winter fade away. Sometimes, in his dreams, Joel returns to the arch over the bridge. But when he wakes up and sees the faint light of dawn seeping in under the blinds, he's in no doubt that he's lying in bed and not clinging on to the arch.
He sometimes bumps into Ture.
They say hello, but they don't have a lot to talk about.
On one occasion Ture asks Joel if he wants to come and play in his big attic room. Joel says he'll come, but never gets round to it.
Joel and his friends have started playing at the deserted old brickworks again. They split up into Goodies and Baddies, and chase each other through the underground tunnels and The World of the Rusty Machines.
One of these days, Joel thinks. One of these days I might go round to Ture's again.
He's not going to run away. He'll stay here. He'll start school come autumn. Then, maybe. But not now. . .
In a month. In two. In three years.
In three years' time they'll be on their way, Joel and his dad.
Away from the house by the river that will never take them to the sea. Somewhere out there, perhaps, is Jenny, Joel's mum.
Samuel tells Joel how it was.
'Maybe she was too young,' he says. 'I'd like to think so. Maybe when she had you, when she had a child, she was still a child herself? And maybe now, when she's no longer a child, maybe she regrets having run away? But she doesn't dare to come back, can't face looking her abandoned son in the eye.
'It's up to you,' he says. 'If you want to meet her, you have a right to do so, of course. If things are as I suspect they are, you are the only one who can help her to overcome her guilty conscience.'
'What about you?' asks Joel.
'It's different for me,' says his dad. 'It was so long ago. And now I have Sara.'
Sara with the red hat!
It's easier now, when his dad doesn't keep disappearing. Not least when Joel goes to the bar and sells newspapers. She tells the drinkers they ought to buy, and they do as they're told. Joel soon finds that he's saved up fifty kronor. He's never had as much money as that before.
Sara is fat, her breasts are too big and she has eczema. But she's a good cook and knows when Joel doesn't want to be patted on the cheek.
He can't understand why his dad is in such a good mood whenever he meets Sara – but then, he's realised that grown-ups are hard to fathom. Only the grown-ups who think like children and act differently are understandable.
Like Simon Windstorm and No-Nose Gertrud. Simon is old and Gertrud's a grown-up.
He can understand them, and enjoys being with them.
One evening when his dad is with Sara, Gertrud comes to visit Joel and he shows her Celestine. They examine her closely, and Joel tells Gertrud which are the most dangerous passages in all the seven seas . . .
Before he knows where he is, term comes to an end. It comes so quickly that it hasn't really registered until he wakes up one morning and realises that he doesn't have to go to school again until the autumn.
Then he leaps out of bed, gets dressed at top speed and cycles away on The Flying Horse.
Summer is boundless . . .
And the dog.
The dog that's heading for a star.
He never sees it again.
He thinks it might have been running so fast that it's already reached its star.
But then he thinks that this is a childish thought. Not something a nearly twelve-year-old ought to be thinking. But still.
He picks out a star shining brightly the other side of The Plough.
That's where his dog is.
He can't be childish for much longer, he knows that. Then his dog will vanish.
But it's still OK for now. He can still stop his bike and look up at the sky. And be confident that the dog got to where it was heading.
He likes that thought. It's a thought he'll never be able to share with anybody else. It's a thought that makes him who he is, and nobody else.
I'm me, he thinks. And I can still spare a moment for a dog heading for a star. And getting there.
Then he rides off.
There's so much he has to do this summer . . .
Henning Mankell, A Bridge to the Stars
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