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

go to the cinema.’
    Joel was surprised. That was a first. Samuel had never suggested that they should go to the pictures together. Samuel never went to the pictures anyway.
    ‘Why?’ asked Joel.
    ‘I thought it might be fun. Seeing as we’re in Stockholm.’
    ‘I thought we were here to look for Mummy Jenny. And to look at boats.’
    ‘I thought that could wait until tomorrow,’ said Samuel. ‘If we happened to bump into Jenny, I don’t think I could cope. Not until tomorrow.’
    Joel understood. And he had a bad conscience. Samuel was afraid. He didn’t want to wait because he was lazy, but because he really was scared of meeting Mummy Jenny again.
    ‘OK, we’ll wait until tomorrow,’ said Joel.
    They had dinner at the same place they’d been to earlier in the day. Afterwards they wandered down a wide street where there were lots of cinemas. Joel let Samuel choose.
    ‘Kirk Douglas is somebody I’ve heard of,’ said Samuel. ‘That film’s bound to be good.’
    Joel thought it was bad. Nothing happened. The actors just hung around, talking. He found it hard to concentrate. He kept imagining he could see himself on the screen. Walking up and down a gangway.
    ‘That was a good film,’ said Samuel as they emerged into the street.
    Joel said nothing.
    On the way home they paused and bought a hot dog. Joel started to worry about how long Samuel’s money was going to last.
    When they got back to the hotel the bald man was no longer there. Instead, a fat woman was sitting behind the desk.
    ‘Would you like a wake-up call?’ she asked.
    ‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Samuel. ‘We’ll wake up anyway.’
    Samuel fell asleep the moment the light was switched off. But Joel lay awake. Astreetlamp was shining into the room through a gap in the curtains. And it was so noisy. Very different from home, where everything was so quiet. Where the only sound was the creaking from inside the walls.
    The beam of light from outside illuminated the Celestine .
    What’s Mummy Jenny doing just now? Joel asked himself. What’s she thinking about? Not about Samuel, that’s for sure. Nor about me.
    She doesn’t know that we are so close by.
    Joel pulled the covers up to his chin and tried to sleep. But there was no sleep in him. He tossed and turned. In the end he sat up. There was no point. He got out of bed and looked at Samuel’s watch. A quarter past eleven. As he walked to the window he cast a glance at the picture on the wall. The young man was still playing the violin. And the woman was still sitting under the tree. He opened the curtain slightly. No rain.
    Then it dawned on him.
    The night was waiting for him. He didn’t know how many times he’d roamed around the streets at night on his bike, but there was nothing to stop him wandering around the streets of Stockholm on foot tonight, looking for Mummy Jenny.
    He got dressed as quietly as he could, then wrote another note for Samuel. To make sure it wasn’t overlooked he put it on Samuel’s pillow.
    I can’t sleep. I’m going out. Back soon.
    That’s all. No times. Samuel wouldn’t be able to work out how long he’d been away.
    The corridor was deserted. He closed the door carefully behind him. He didn’t dare to take the lift. There were carpets on the stairs, so his footsteps wouldn’t be heard.
    A radio was playing in reception. He paused on the stairs. Perhaps the woman behind the desk wouldn’t allow him to go out? Perhaps the law said you had to be in the hotel after eleven o’clock?
    He tried to work out what to do.
    But the solution came of its own accord. He could hear somebody snoring. He approached the desk. The snores were louder now. He peeped cautiously over the desk. The woman was asleep on a chair, asleep with her mouth open. He crouched down and hurried to the door. If it squeaked she might wake up. He took hold of the handle and eased the door open. Not a sound.
    Now he was outside. He had remembered to take the map with him. It