Domaro.
A welcome committee was standing on the jetty. It consisted of the same people who had been in the mission house, apart from Tora Osterberg and Holger, who were missing. And Karl-Erik.
Tora hadn't felt strong enough to come, and Holger was sitting with Goran, keeping an eye on Karl-Erik. 'So that he doesn't come up with something else,' as Johan Lundberg put it.
Lasse had been taken to the hospital in Norrtalje and had his wounds stitched, but had refused to stay one minute longer than necessary. When he was delivered back home his wife Lina had been just as unreasonable. She was normally the kindest, most helpful person you could imagine, but she had spat and hissed at Lasse's companions, transformed beyond recognition. She had let her husband in, but that was it. She hadn't even offered them coffee.
All this was relayed to Anna-Greta. Simon was deliberately ignored, and despite the fact that Anna-Greta took his hand to keep him within the circle, the group managed to close around her and exclude him. After a couple of minutes he had had enough. He squeezed Anna-Greta's hand and whispered to her that he was going to see how Anders was getting on.
He felt a pang of guilt when he turned around after a few steps and saw her standing on the jetty surrounded by dark figures, like a flock of crows. Although perhaps it wasn't guilt, he thought as he continued on towards the Shack. Perhaps it was jealousy.
The Shack was dark and silent, but when Simon went into the kitchen he could see light seeping out from beneath the bedroom door. He opened it gently and discovered Anders, fast asleep in Maja's bed with his arms around Bamse the Bear. Simon stood looking at him quietly for a while, then went out and closed the door silently behind him.
In the kitchen he switched on the light, found a pen and some paper and wrote a note about the wedding. As he was just about to leave he caught sight of the bead tile. He studied it carefully. Then he added something to the note and left the house.
Anna-Greta was already home. There hadn't been all that much to discuss, really. The only course of action on which they could agree had already been put in place: to keep Lasse and Karl-Erik under supervision and see how things developed. She pulled off her best boots and massaged her feet, which were feeling the effects of all that walking in Norrtalje. 'I'm sorry the others were like that,' she said. 'I'm sure they'll get used to the situation in time.'
'I doubt it,' said Simon, sitting down. 'Did you tell them? About Elin?'
'How could I possibly do that?'
'No. Of course not.'
Anna-Greta put her feet up on Simon's knee and he kneaded them absently. His hands were back in place, a natural part of his body.
The whole thing was like a magic trick. An effect that could be seen on the surface, which seemed fantastic, but behind it all lay a mechanism that was basically very simple, if only you understood it. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Simon wished he could put his former talent to work on this particular effect and find the hidden compartment, the secret mechanism. Perhaps it was all as simple as an invisible thread or a false base, if you could just see it. But he couldn't see it.
'There is one thing I don't understand,' said Anna-Greta, wiggling her toes and making them creak slightly. 'Elin. Anders. Karl-Erik. Lasse. Lina. Why those people in particular? Why them}'
'There are a lot of things I don't understand. And that's one of them. Where are the strings?'
Hide and seek
When Anders managed to get hold of the alarm clock and decipher the position of the hands through eyes gritty with sleep, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was twenty to seven. Judging from the light outside it was morning, not evening. Which meant he hadn't slept more than quarter of an hour, despite the fact that he had been bone weary.
He rolled on to his back and pressed the clock to his chest. Strangely enough, he felt rested in a way that he hadn't felt for a very long time. His body was soft and his brain was empty, relaxed. It felt as if he'd slept…
There was one other possibility. That he had slept for an entire day. That it was Saturday now. He closed his eyes, but they had already come to life and certainly didn't want to be closed again. He had finished sleeping. There was no other explanation: he must have slept for fifteen minutes plus twenty-four hours.
He was desperate for a pee, his bladder felt like a huge tumour. But he still didn't get up. It was so indescribably wonderful to lie there in bed feeling warm and rested. He hadn't had one single peaceful night since he came to Domaro. Now he felt as if he had recouped everything in one fell swoop. He drew up his knees and turned to the wall, where he found an old friend.
The big Bamse bear had been Maja's favourite when they were on Domaro. She hadn't wanted to take it back home to the city with her, no, Bamse belonged on Domaro and had to stay here and wait for her until the next time she came over.
Anders stroked the blue felt hat, the wide-open eyes, the buttons on his overalls.
'Hello, Bamse.'
He felt so calm. Yesterday or the day before his thoughts would probably have started whirling around in his head by now, scrabbling for an explanation of the fact that Bamse was lying next to him, even though he had been right under the bed when Anders fell asleep.
But not now. No problem. Bamse was here. Nice.
Besides, he now knew how things worked. He was the one who had dug out Bamse, or rather his body had done so. Maja had wanted Bamse next to her while she was sleeping, and had used Anders to get what she wanted.
'Morning, sweetheart.'
He listened inside himself for a reply, but none came. That was OK too. He thought he ought to be able to feel something, to be able to find a place inside himself that was Maja, but he had no intention of going into that right now. Things were OK as they were, with Bamse and everything. She was there.
He smiled. 'Do you remember this?' He cleared his throat and silently sang Maja's version of the Bamse song:
She had really loved to play with songs and expressions, with language. Above all she liked making things… well, worse. It would often start with a mispronunciation, which she would then develop. A favourite had been to exchange the word 'Christmas' for 'Christmess'. They gave each other Christmess presents, brought in the Christmess tree and before Christmas they sat making different kinds of Christmess puzzles. Then Father Christmess came.
Pain shot through Anders' midriff and he frowned. He remembered how she had sat there gabbling a list of different things that were 'messy'. Christmess music and the Christmessy atmosphere. The verse she had added to 'I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus', which involved Daddy coming in and killing Santa Claus. Father Christmess.
Anders rolled over quickly and slipped out of bed, half-crouching as he ran to the toilet where he achieved what was probably a world record in pissing for the longest time. His body felt purified, capable, ready for
