Free The Journey to the End of the World (Joel Gustafson Stories) by Henning Mankell Page B

room. There were rows of lockers and benches. And there was a name on every locker door.
    Mummy Jenny, he thought. If it really was you coming here tonight, your name will be on one of these lockers.
    Doctor Jenny, or Nurse Jenny. Or Manager Jenny.
    He started to work his way along the rows of lockers. Nearly all of them had women’s names on the door. There was an Arne Bergström and somebody called Hagge K, but all the rest were women.
    There was a Judith and a Johanna in the first row. Joel started to work his way through those opposite.
    He’d come more or less to the middle of the row.
    And then he saw the name.
    Jenny Rydén.
    He held his breath.
    Was this his mum? Jenny Rydén?
    He just knew it was. But there again . . .
    The locker door wasn’t locked. If he opened it and found the green coat hanging there, he would be sure.
    He decided to leave the door closed.
    Then he opened it.
    The coat hanging inside the locker was even greener than he’d thought. It was the same colour as a lawn.
    Jenny Rydén’s coat. His mother’s coat.
    There was a handbag hanging from a hook next to the coat.
    I could open it, he thought. There might be a purse inside it. With an address. Saying ‘Östgötagatan’. There might even be something else. Making it clear if she’s my mother or not.
    Ever so carefully, he unhooked the handbag. It was fastened with a strap and a little silver stud.
    He had the feeling that he was about to open a treasure chest that he’d been looking for as long as he could remember.
    But maybe he should resist the temptation to open the bag. Samuel ought to have been there as well. Jenny was just as much his as Joel’s.
    But he couldn’t resist it. He opened the handbag. It contained a pair of gloves. And a powder compact.
    And a purse.
    He put the handbag down on the floor and opened the purse.
    As he did so the door burst open, and a man in a white coat was staring at Joel.
    He had no way of knowing if it was Arne Bergström or Hagge K.
    Joel tried to say something by way of explanation, and he even bowed to the man in the doorway.
    But that was as far as he was allowed to go. The man strode towards him. Joel tried to duck, but two powerful hands grabbed hold of his arms.
    ‘A thief,’ he yelled. ‘You’re a thief. What are you doing in here? How did you get in? What have you pinched? How did you break into that locker? What’s your name?’
    The questions came tumbling out of the man’s mouth. He was shouting, and red in the face.
    He’ll hit me, Joel thought. He’s going to hit me.
    When the man paused to breathe, Joel tried to say something. But the man started shouting and yelling again. The door to the corridor was flung open. An old man wearing shabby pyjamas and carrying a walking stick was peering short-sightedly at them.
    ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
    ‘Go back to bed, Erik.’
    The man holding Joel still sounded angry. The old man looked scared, turned and left.
    ‘I’m not a thief,’ Joel said. ‘I’m lost.’
    ‘A thief,’ said the man again. ‘You’re a thief.’
    ‘I’m just looking for my mum.’
    Joel heard the words coming out of his mouth, but he had no idea where they originated. Nevertheless, the man holding him seemed to hesitate.
    ‘Your mum?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘What’s her name?’
    ‘Jenny.’
    ‘There are two women working here called Jenny. What’s your surname?’
    ‘Gustafson.’
    Joel realised that was the wrong answer. But it was too late. The man’s grip on him tightened even more.
    ‘There’s nobody here called Jenny Gustafson. You’re not only a thief, you’re a liar as well.’
    Joel thought he had nothing to lose. If there were two women called Jenny working here, only one of them could have the surname Rydén. If he was lucky, he would have guessed right. But even if he had guessed right, he could still be wrong. He didn’t know if the woman he’d seen entering the building really was his mother.
    ‘Rydén,’ he said.