and not only that, it was free. They decided the bottles should be hidden underneath the old boathouse on Kattholmen. Henrik and Bjorn were of course included in all these discussions-they were the heroes of the hour.
But by the following day it was all forgotten, and their incomprehensible comments and strange manner-a mixture of submissiveness and a maddening superciliousness-became the objects of the usual ridicule. But they were the ones who had nicked the bottles, there was no getting away from that fact.
And so when the time came for the final party of the summer, they were included from the start. Otherwise Henrik and Bjorn usually just turned up at parties without being invited, then sat on the sidelines making remarks that only they laughed at, while everybody else laughed at the gibes against Henrik and Bjorn.
But in that way they fulfilled their particular function. They consolidated the group and the language of the group by sitting outside and speaking a different language. Nobody would have admitted it or even realised it, but a good party needed Henrik and Bjorn sitting there like a couple of aliens in order to create the right atmosphere.
The evening had arrived. Sausages and charcoal, chips and drink were transported over to Kattholmen, and everyone was there. Joel and Martin, Elin and Malin, Anders and Cecilia. Frida's mother had said she couldn't go, but she was there anyway. Samuel who lived in Naten and played in the same football team as Joel came in his own boat. Even Karolina, who spent only a couple of weeks on Domaro each year, was there. And Henrik and Bjorn. The suppliers for the evening.
The Bacardi was produced and mixed with Coke in plastic mugs, someone got a fire going outside the boathouse. Henrik and Bjorn had brought some kind of special meat-free sausages that were pale grey and looked like penises; they were informed of this fact, despite the Bacardi.
For once Anders was permitted to put Depeche Mode on the cassette player. 'A Question of Lust' had paved the way. But after the first couple of bottles, nobody wanted to listen to such gloomy music, and at the girls' insistence it had to be Wham! instead.
The fire died down and the party continued inside the boathouse. At first there had been nothing but a table, two chairs and a bunk bed for fishermen who were staying the night. A few wooden chairs and a rag rug had been added. It was a bit crowded with everybody in there, but Anders and Cecilia helped out by clambering up on to the musty horsehair mattress on the top bunk, where they lay kissing and cuddling.
They had had to put up with a good deal the previous summer after Malin had seen them kissing, but that was all in the past now. They were a couple and there wasn't much to say about it, even if it was a bit peculiar to be together for so long. They had slept together for the first time during the winter, and had carried on in spring, so there was none of that initial desperation as they lay on the horsehair mattress. They could take it easy now, resting on each other's lips and fingertips.
Down below them the atmosphere was even more over-excited. Somebody had produced a pack of cards, and they were about to play strip poker. Karolina immediately dropped out, barely raising even a dutiful protest. She was chubby and not particularly attractive. Unfortunately she had no way of getting home on her own, so she had to curl up on the bottom bunk and pretend, as far as possible, to be fine with the whole thing.
And so the fun lay with Elin and Malin, who were the best- looking girls. Frida was quite pretty, but she didn't have the kind of body you could talk or fantasise about. On the other hand, there was no way she was pulling out if the other girls were up for it.
When Elin and Malin gave each other a high five and said 'Go for it!', Anders saw how Frida's eyes darted from side to side, and her shoulders drooped slightly. But she gritted her teeth and straightened up. Perhaps she was hoping she might be able to play without losing. She would lose more by backing out.
Anders took a swig from the bottle of ready-mixed rum and Coke and buried his nose in the back of Cecilia's neck. He had a bad feeling about this, and was grateful for the fact that he and Cecilia were so far out of the reckoning that they'd been forgotten.
On the ghetto blaster Joey Tempest was singing about the final countdown, and Martin dealt the cards. He hesitated when he got to Henrik, who said he'd like to drop his trousers to the world, and Bjorn giggled. Nobody else understood what was funny, but they got their cards.
Martin carried on dealing, hands were won and hands were lost. As items of clothing were removed, they were thrown on a pile in the middle of the floor. After perhaps twenty minutes Anders must have fallen asleep, because the situation had changed completely when he raised his head again.
The door had just closed behind Joel, who had come back in. He was stark naked except for a scrap of torn fishing net which he had arranged so that it half covered his dangling penis.
Booing and laughter came from around the table. Joel threw his arms out wide and executed a couple of dance steps. He didn't seem unhappy with the situation. He went to the gym regularly and was making the most of the opportunity to show off what he had.
It was so hot in the boathouse that Anders' hair was sticky with sweat. The oxygen was being eaten up by all the candles and by the alcohol burning in their bodies. Another two half-litre bottles had been emptied and were lying next to the pile of clothes. They had drunk at least a litre more than they ever had before, and Samuel was just opening a new bottle.
Frida, who had done quite well and was still wearing her bra and pants, pointed at Joel and protested, Admit you've lost. That's just cheating.'
Joel went over to her and waggled his midriff in front of her face.
'What do you mean, I'm wearing something, aren't I? Go on, feel.'
Frida pushed him away and Joel almost fell backwards on top of Karolina, but grabbed hold of the bed frame and straightened up. He was very drunk, and sweat was pouring down his neck and back. He waved a hand over his fishnet pants and said, 'Last chance, OK? Last round. Then I'm…bust. OK?'
Despite the fact that Anders hadn't drunk all that much, his head was spinning, and it felt three times as heavy as it usually did.
He opened his mouth to say so, but just didn't have the strength. He looked down at the table where the others were sitting. Joel was the one who had lost most, but Henrik, Bjorn and Elin weren't far behind. Henrik and Bjorn were down to their underpants, and even though Elin's lower half was concealed by the shadows under the table, Anders could see that she had sacrificed her pants before her bra.
He could hear from Cecilia's breathing that she was asleep. He placed a hand on her hip and tore his gaze away from the short strands of hair poking out from between Elin's crossed legs, trying to be faithful even in his thoughts.
The spirit was willing but the eyes were weak. He tried to focus on a couple of half-ripe pimples on Henrik's back, but his eyes refused to co-operate, sliding to the right and moving from the shadow between Elin's thighs to the sheen of sweat on the top of her breasts. The base of his penis was beginning to get hot, and he rolled over on to his back, staring up at the ceiling which was only half a metre from the tip of his nose.
The cards clicked as they were dealt out, the voices were slurred. He hoped Joel would lose so that it would be over, so that they could all go out into the fresh air and become human beings again.
It was Henrik who lost. Anders heard the sound of fabric against skin, and a rustle as the pile of clothes grew a little higher. Nobody seemed all that bothered. Henrik's nakedness was not something anyone wished to see, it was just a blip along the way. The cards were dealt again. Karolina sighed on the bottom bunk. This wasn't quite how she'd imagined the evening.
The sweat prickled in Anders' eyes, and he felt unpleasantly itchy beneath his clothes. He wished it had just been him and Cecilia here. He would have woken her and asked her if she wanted to go for a swim in the moonlight. In the current situation all he could do was lie there staring up at the ceiling, which was increasingly beginning to resemble the lid of a coffin. Which, judging by the warmth, had just been slid into the oven.
'What the fuck!' he heard Elin shout from down below. 'But I've got three pairs as well!'
'Yes, but look…' said Martin, who seemed to be finding it difficult to express himself. 'Look…you can see Frida's got…her top card is higher than yours. So that means hers is higher. It's higher.'
A murmur of agreement was heard; Elin tried a couple of lame protests, but then a reverent silence fell. There was a faint metallic click, and a piece of clothing landed on the pile. A chair was pushed back and Joel said, 'Where are you going, you're supposed to sit here now and…'
