He thought about what I’d said for a few seconds, then bent down and picked up a large parcel from the deck. He handed it to me.
‘But I haven’t ordered anything.’
‘I know nothing about it. But it’s addressed to you. And it’s prepaid, so there are no postal charges.’
I took the parcel. My name was clearly written in beautifully formed letters. There were no sender’s details.
Jansson backed away from the jetty. Even if he had in fact got diabetes, he would live for many years yet. He would certainly outlive me and my dicky heart.
I sat down in the kitchen and opened the parcel. It contained a pair of black shoes with a hint of violet. Giaconelli had enclosed a card on which he’d written that it had brought him great pleasure to demonstrate his great respect for my feet.
I changed my socks, put on the shoes and walked round the kitchen. They fitted just as well as he had promised they would. The dog was lying on the threshold, watching me with interest. I went into the other room and showed the ants my new shoes.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so happy.
Every day for the rest of the winter I would walk around the kitchen several times in Giaconelli’s shoes. I never wore them outside the house, and always put them back in their box.
Spring arrived at the beginning of April. There was still a little ice in my inlet, but it wouldn’t be long before it thawed.
Early one morning I started to remove the anthill.
It was time to do it now. It couldn’t wait any longer.
I used my spade to remove it bit by bit, carefully placing it into the wheelbarrow.
The spade suddenly hit against something solid. When I had cleared away the conifer needles and ants, I saw that it was one of Harriet’s empty bottles. There was something inside it. I removed the cork and found a rolled-up photograph of Harriet and me, taken shortly before I abandoned her, when we were young.
There was water in the background. We could have been standing by Riddarfjärden in Stockholm. A breeze was ruffling Harriet’s hair. I was smiling straight at the camera. I recalled that we had asked a passing stranger to take the picture.
I turned it over. Harriet had drawn a map. It was of my island. Underneath it she had written: ‘We came this far.’
I sat in the kitchen for a long time, gazing at that photograph.
Then I continued transporting the ants to their new life. It was all finished by the evening. The anthill had been moved.
I walked round my island. Flocks of migrating birds were flying over the sea.
It was just as Harriet had written. We had come this far.
No further than that. But this far.
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Copyright © Henning Mankell 2006
English translation copyright © Laurie Thompson 2009
Henning Mankell has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
First published with the title Italienska Skor in 2006 by Leopard Förlag, Stockholm, in arrangement with Leonhardt & Høier Literary Agency, Copenhagen
First published in Great Britain in 2009 by
Harvill Secker
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9780099512981
Italian Shoes Page 28
