When the Snow Fell Page 5

But it seemed to Joel that Gertrud was a difficult person. He sometimes thought that whatever she did, she went too far. Joel was always scared of not being like everybody else. What he did and thought when he was on his own was one thing. But when you were with other people you shouldn’t draw attention to yourself.

  Gertrud was the best friend he had.

  He wasn’t really happy about that. He would have preferred to have a different best friend. One who had a nose, at least.

  But that was the way it was. And Gertrud always listened to what he had to say. She didn’t laugh at him—not in a malicious way in any case—when he said something silly. Which he thought he did far too often.

  This evening Joel had decided to tell Gertrud about his New Year’s resolutions.

  But maybe not all three. He was still a bit doubtful as to whether he should tell her about Ehnström’s new shop assistant. The one who had already started dancing inside Joel’s head, wearing nothing but transparent veils. Joel wasn’t really sure how she would react. That was the only thing he and Gertrud had never talked about. Other women.

  Gertrud was sitting curled up on her orange-colored sofa, reading the Bible. Joel had never really understood what it meant, being religious. All that stuff about God was something he only thought about now and again. Strangely enough, it was usually when he didn’t have any money. As if that were God’s fault. Not having a krona for a cinema ticket.

  But just now his New Year’s resolutions were more important.

  Gertrud put down her Bible. Today she had a checked handkerchief over the hole where her nose had once been. She had rolled it up into a ball and pressed it into the hole.

  “I thought you’d forgotten all about me,” she said. “I haven’t seen you for ages.”

  “There’s so much to do for school,” Joel said.

  Which was nearly true. But not quite. A few weeks had gone by without his giving Gertrud a single thought.

  “But anyway, here you are,” she went on. “And that means, of course, that you have something on your mind. Is that right?”

  Joel nodded. Then he told her about his New Year’s resolutions. She listened, with her head on one side and her chin resting on her hand, as usual.

  For the moment Joel didn’t say anything about Ehnström’s new shop assistant.

  “Is there an age limit?” he asked. “For being a rock idol? Or a trailer salesman?”

  “It might be possible to be too old,” she said, “but hardly too young.”

  “How old was Elvis when he started singing?” Joel asked. He knew that Gertrud liked Elvis Presley. They had sometimes listened to his records together, and tried to work out what the words meant. It was often difficult. It seemed as if the songs weren’t really about anything at all.

  “I expect Elvis started singing when he was rocking around inside his mother’s stomach.”

  Joel wasn’t at all pleased by that answer. It was far too vague.

  “But what about later? After he’d been born?”

  “I expect he’s been singing for the whole of his life.”

  Joel realized that Gertrud didn’t have a better answer to give him. So he moved on to trailers. He explained how that was really Samuel’s idea.

  “It could well be true,” she said. “But I don’t think it sounds like a lot of fun, wandering around a big parking lot crammed full of trailers on display. And trying to sell them. Where are you going to get the money to buy them?”

  “I’m not going to buy them. I’m going to sell them.”

  “But you’ve got to have something to sell, surely? And before you can sell it, you have to buy it.”

  Joel hadn’t thought of that. Presumably nobody was going to give him any trailers on the strength of his paying for them later?

  That settled it. He didn’t need to hesitate anymore.

  He would become a rock idol. He told Gertrud how he’d already been to see Kringström. First he would learn to play the guitar, and then he’d start practicing singing.

  “I didn’t know you were a good singer,” she said tentatively.

  “Elvis isn’t a good singer,” Joel declared. “But he sings very loud.”

  She nodded hesitantly.

  “But surely, he does sing quite well, doesn’t he?”

  “But most of all, very loud.”

  Joel didn’t want to go into that any further. Not just now, at least. When he’d learnt to play the guitar and practiced a few songs, she could listen.

  She asked if he would like some juice. He would. They went together into her big kitchen. A strange thing about this house was that it had two kitchens, even though it wasn’t very big. But that was the way Gertrud wanted it. Just like the way she slept in different beds.

  One kitchen was for when she was only a bit hungry. The big one was for when she threw a party and had visitors.

  Joel watched her pouring out the juice. He thought that Gertrud could be very pretty. If only she had a nose. And wore proper clothes. Like everybody else. Instead of all those peculiar skirts she made herself.

  Joel suddenly found himself seeing only her nose that didn’t exist. And all her strange clothes.

  He didn’t know where the feeling came from, but now he thought she was revolting.

  She handed him the glass of juice. He took it.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “I can see that something’s bothering you.”

  “Don’t talk such garbage!”

  Now it hit him even more strongly. The feeling that Gertrud was revolting. And was a person who could see right through him. Read his thoughts. What did they call somebody like that? A witch, that was what she was. But without the long nose. Gertrud was even worse. She didn’t have a nose at all.

  Then everything went very quickly. He flung the glass of juice at the wall. It shattered and the juice splashed all over Gertrud’s clothes. Some of it even landed on the handkerchief she had stuffed into the hole where her nose should have been. But Joel didn’t see that. He’d already turned on his heel, left the kitchen, grabbed his jacket and boots and carried them out into the garden. He had palpitations and didn’t know what had come over him. He struggled and cursed as he tried to fasten his boots. All the time he kept looking round. But Gertrud didn’t come after him. When he’d finished tying his laces the sweat was pouring off him. He ran off as fast as he could. Not until he’d reached the middle of the railway bridge did he pause to catch his breath. Steam was coming out of his mouth. His sweat was starting to freeze and made him feel cold. He was trembling. But the main problem was inside him. What had he done? Why had he hurled that glass of juice at the wall? He’d gone to visit Gertrud, who was his friend. He’d wanted her to answer some of the questions that were bothering him. But when she’d asked him a question he’d thrown a glass at her wall.

  He regretted it now. He was still out of breath. And very cold. The sweat was pricking at his skin like needles underneath his sweater. He stared down into the black water. There was no ice yet, but the water had started to thicken.

  I’ll jump, he thought. I can’t handle this. I can’t see Gertrud ever again. Why did I do that?

  But he didn’t jump. He remembered that Gertrud had once tried to commit suicide. In this same river. And she really did have a reason, not having a nose.

  It seemed to him that he ought to go back to her place right away. She couldn’t have understood what had happened either. But maybe she could explain it for him. Explain what he had done.

  But he didn’t go back. He was far too cowardly for that. He shouted up into the sky.

  “Because I’m too much of a coward. Joel Gustafson’s a lily-livered coward.”

  Then he walked home. He was so cold, he was shivering. His teeth were chattering.

  When he got to the flat he found Samuel sitting by the wireless. A squeaky voice was holding forth. Samuel had fallen asleep. His head was resting on his chest. Mouth wide open. Joel
tiptoed past. He would have preferred Samuel not to wake up just now. In fact, he would have liked the whole world to be asleep. He closed the door to his room, got undressed and snuggled down into bed. He slowly began to thaw out. He closed his eyes and tried to convince himself that it was all a figment of his imagination. He hadn’t in fact hurled a glass at Gertrud’s kitchen wall. She wasn’t upset.

  But it wasn’t possible to conjure it all away. He was able to think of something else for a few brief moments, but then it all came back again. The kitchen. Gertrud’s question. His curse. The glass thrown at the wall.

  He had a stomachache now.

  There were moments in Joel Gustafson’s life when he simply didn’t know what to do next.

  This was one of those moments.

  He could hear that Samuel had woken up. He’d switched off the wireless. Joel pulled the cover over his head and pretended to be fast asleep. Samuel opened the door just a few inches. Listened. Then closed it again.

  But Joel was awake.

  If only he’d been able, he’d have left his body there and gone away. But human beings couldn’t shed their skin. Only snakes could do that.

  He didn’t know what had happened. If he thought that Gertrud was repulsive, it wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t the one who had cut off her own nose.

  Samuel fell asleep. His snores came booming through the wall. Just now it was hard to think about the new shop assistant at Ehnströms Livs. Or about how he would soon be beginning a new career as Sweden’s youngest rock idol. Perhaps even the youngest in the world.

  He tried to fall asleep and forget all about what had happened. But he couldn’t. So he got out of bed and went over to the window. The sky was clear and full of stars. Then he looked down at the street, where the lone streetlamp lit up the snow. That was where he had seen the mysterious dog run past several years ago.

  But then he felt a stab in his chest. There was somebody standing there in the shadows, at the very edge of the light cast by the streetlamp. At first he thought he was imagining it, but then he was certain. There was somebody standing there, staring up at his window.

  Then it dawned on him who it was.

  It was Gertrud.

  — SEVEN —

  It had never happened before.

  Gertrud had never stood by that streetlamp before. Neither by day nor, like now, at night. When Joel first saw her, he thought she was a mirage. Something that could be seen, but didn’t really exist. But she was still there, moving slightly, until she came within range of the streetlamp. Now she was very clear. Joel stood with his face pressed up against the cold windowpane. It was Gertud, all right. And she was gazing up at his window. But he knew that she couldn’t possibly know that he was there. The room was in darkness. He could see her. But she couldn’t see him.

  There was something frightening about her standing out there in the night. Joel had the feeling that he was looking at the last person left alive in the world. This must be what the doomsday that Miss Nederström kept going on about looked like. The last person alive was standing underneath a streetlamp, late at night in an insignificant little northern Swedish town.

  Joel couldn’t imagine greater loneliness than this.

  Then it was clear to him that he would have to go down and fetch her. No human being could be allowed to be as lonely as she seemed to be. He put on a pair of pants, and a sweater over his pajamas, and forced his bare feet into a pair of Wellingtons in the kitchen. Samuel was asleep. He was snoring loudly.

  When Joel emerged into the street he suddenly felt embarrassed. But it was too late now. She had already seen him come out of the front door. He couldn’t turn back now, or pretend that he hadn’t seen her.

  They were standing on opposite sides of the street. Everything was silent. Nothing but night and the starry sky. Joel could feel the cold sneaking down into his boots. He walked hesitantly across the street, more or less forcing himself to move.

  “Why are you standing here?” he asked.

  “You threw a glass at my kitchen wall,” said Gertrud. “These things happen, I’ve done it myself. But I didn’t understand why. That’s why I’ve come here.”

  “I’d nearly fallen asleep,” Joel said.

  Why did he say that? Couldn’t he have thought of something better?

  But what he said next made him even more surprised.

  “Let’s go up to the flat,” he said. “I don’t have any socks on. It’s cold.”

  Things were getting worse and worse.

  He couldn’t take her up to the flat with him. What would happen if Samuel woke up? But there again, it was too late. He couldn’t take it back now.

  “Maybe you’ve got to get back home?” asked Joel tentatively.

  “I’ve got all the time in the world,” she said. “Besides, I’ve never seen what your home is like.”

  “We’d better be as quiet as possible. So that we don’t wake Samuel up.”

  They were inside the house now.

  “Which steps creak?” she asked.

  “The fourth, fifth and twelfth,” Joel told her.

  They entered the flat without making a sound. It was the first time Joel had ever had a visitor in the middle of the night.

  “It smells good,” she whispered as they stood in the kitchen.

  “It smells of fried herring,” said Joel.

  Samuel snored. They went into Joel’s room and closed the door. He placed his finger over his lips.

  “Sound carries in here,” he said.

  “Old houses have good ears,” she said, sitting down on his bed.

  Joel felt uneasy. He didn’t want Samuel to wake up. To come into his room and find Gertrud there.

  Now those thoughts started coming back again.

  He could see her nose that didn’t exist.

  He had been visited by a nose that didn’t exist.

  He’d have preferred it to be Ehnström’s new shop assistant visiting him. Sitting there on his bed. Sitting there wearing ordinary clothes, and speaking with a Stockholm accent.

  But it was Gertrud who’d turned up.

  It seemed as if she could read his thoughts again.

  “Why did you throw that glass?” she asked.

  Joel looked down and stared at his feet. He could see that his left foot was dirtier than his right one. It was always the same. And he didn’t understand why. How could feet attract different amounts of muck?

  “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “Of course you meant to,” she said. “Why else would you start throwing glasses around?”

  Joel was still staring at his feet. He hadn’t the slightest idea what to say. He couldn’t possibly tell her that he suddenly found her revolting. That all he could see was the nose she didn’t have on her face.

  When he glanced up at her, he could see that her expression was very worried. A beam of light from the moon was illuminating her face. He had a guilty conscience.

  “It was nothing,” he mumbled.

  Now he could look at her again. She looked him in the eye.

  “I think you’re growing up,” she said.

  That was something Joel was pleased to hear. That he was growing up. But there again, there was something in her tone of voice that worried him. What did she mean by saying that just now?

  That was the kind of thing that grown-ups often did. Joel knew that he would have to learn—the most important thing was often not what was said.

  But when it was said.

  “There’s nobody as childish as I am,” he said.

  She shook her head.

  “You’re growing up,” she said again. “And before long, one of these days, you’ll have forgotten that I exist. You might even fail to greet me when we meet in the street. Or you’ll cross over to the other side.”

  Joel stared at her in astonishment.

  “Why shouldn’t I greet you?”

  “Because you’re embarrassed.”

  “What s
hould I be embarrassed about?”

  She replied by asking a question.

  “Why did you throw that glass at the wall?”

  If Joel had been holding a glass at that moment, he’d have hurled it at the wall. He wouldn’t have cared less if he’d woken Samuel up.

  Her questions made him angry. He was angry because she was right.

  Even so, he shook his head.

  “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “Why were you standing out there in the street? I might not have seen you.”

  “In that case I’d have thrown a snowball at your window. You’ve shown me before which is your bedroom window.”

  “That wouldn’t have been a good idea,” Joel said. “Samuel would have woken up. And he doesn’t like me having girls in my room at this time of night.”

  If he could, he’d have bitten his tongue off. He could hear how stupid it sounded. Even if he hadn’t even started playing forfeits yet. Now she would expose him for what he was.

  But she didn’t. She said nothing.

  Instead she stood up so quickly that Joel gave a start.

  “Anyway, now I know why you threw that glass at my kitchen wall,” she said.

  “But I haven’t answered that question. All I’ve said is that I didn’t mean to.”

  “That’s enough for me,” she said. “I’m going home now. And shouldn’t you get some sleep?”

  Joel tiptoed after her into the hall. Gertrud really knew how to move without making the slightest sound. He stood in the doorway and heard that she’d remembered which steps to avoid. She didn’t leave a single creak behind.

  He watched her from his window. Just like that dog, she materialized in the light from the streetlamp, then vanished. At that very moment he thought that she was less repulsive. At the same time, it seemed that something had changed forever that evening. But Joel couldn’t work out what it was.

  It was as if something was missing. Something that used to be there. But it had been replaced by something else. And he didn’t know what it was.

  He undressed and snuggled down into bed. He felt very tired.

  He thought about Gertud, walking home through the night. She would have reached the railway bridge by now. But he had the feeling that somebody was coming towards her from the other direction. Somebody who passed Gertrud in the middle of the bridge. Somebody Gertrud hadn’t noticed. At first he wasn’t sure who it was. But then he knew. It was Ehnström’s new shop assistant. And she was naked underneath trans parent veils. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, and winter was nearly here, and it was freezing cold.