A Bridge to the Stars by Henning Mankell Page A

bed?
    He wasn't at all sure. All his memories were blurred,
as if he'd been looking at unfocused photos, when he
tried to remember later. What he would really like to do
was to forget that night altogether; but his memory was
stronger than the urge to forget, and his fear was so great
that he couldn't shake it off.
    What happened?
    What did he do?
    He sat quite still on the edge of his father's bed and
cried his eyes out. That deadened his fear. Then he ran
round and round the empty flat, as if he were suffering
severe pains that he was trying to shake off.
    All the time he kept thinking he could hear Samuel's
footsteps on the stairs, but when he flung open the door
there was nobody there. He looked out of the window
but the street was deserted, and the night glared disdainfully
back at him.
    And he thought lots of awful thoughts.
    First he'd been abandoned by his mother. Now his
father had done the same thing to him.
    The good humour, humming the sea shanties,
promising to buy him a bike – it had all been false.
    His fear was so great, he could hear it bellowing deep
down in his subconscious. As if there were a dog
chained up inside him, howling non-stop.
    It was a long time before he calmed down sufficiently
to think straight again.
    There were no trains running at night. They didn't
have a car. And Samuel could hardly have set out for the
far side of the vast forest on foot.
    There was only one explanation and Joel felt he
needed to have immediate confirmation of what he
knew was true.
    As he runs down the stairs again, the door to old Mrs
Westman's flat opens and she stands there framed by the
light coming from her hall, wearing a brown dressing
gown and a white nightcap.
    'It's shocking, all this running up and down stairs,'
she says. 'Has something happened?'
    'No,' says Joel. 'Nothing at all.'
    It occurs to him that it might be a good idea to hide in
Mrs Westman's flat. Hide behind all her embroidered
pictures of Christ in the flat smelling of apples, and
pretend that he doesn't exist. But he runs out into the
street and keeps on running.
    He doesn't stop until he gets to the entrance door of
the block of flats where Sara lives. He's been running so
fast that he has a stitch, and the cold air is biting into his
throat.
    He opens the door carefully and sneaks into the dark
rear courtyard. There is a faint light behind the curtains
in one of Sara's windows.
    He looks round the courtyard but can't see a ladder.
He knows there is one behind the ironmonger's on the
other side of the street, so he runs back through the
entrance door, over the street, and sees the ladder
half-buried under the snow. It's heavy. He can hardly
lift it. He has to use all his strength to lug it over the
street.
    Jesus with the cross, he thinks. Jesus with the cross
and Joel with the ladder . . .
    By the time he's carried the ladder into Sara's rear
courtyard, he's soaked in sweat. His bladder is bursting,
and he pees all over the bicycle he thinks belongs to
Sara. There is still a faint light behind one of the
curtains. He's shivering with cold, and tries to work out
how best to raise the ladder and lean it against the wall
without making a noise.
    But he can't think of any way. The ladder is too
heavy. He'll just have to try to slide it up the wall and
hope nobody hears anything.
    Not that it matters. Nothing matters any more.
    So he braces himself, heaves with all his strength and
manages to raise the ladder against the wall.
    No sign of movement behind the curtain.
    He's out of breath and sweaty, and his throat feels raw.
    But the worst is yet to come.
    He climbs tentatively up the ladder until his head is
almost up to the windowsill.
    He closes his eyes; once again his eyelids are
padlocked. He's prepared to give up everything – The
Flying Horse, Celestine , his rock – as long as Samuel
isn't behind the curtain.
    Then he looks.
    Sara is lying under a sheet in a brown bed.
    Her mouth is moving, but Joel can't hear what