By this point Maya deeply regretted coming home. If she had ever longed to get away from Stensjö and Caroline, that was nothing in comparison to how much she now longed to be anywhere other than with her mother.
'Solveig,' she said, because she knew her mother hated it when she called her by her first name. 'OK, I know where it is. It's a long way from a bus stop, so that would be pointless. I presume the bike's still here?'
Solveig nodded and her face immediately softened. She stubbed out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
'It's downstairs in the cellar, in the storeroom. You'll probably need to pump up the tyres; nobody's used it since you disappeared.'
Maya nodded grimly. 'I'm going to have a glass of that wine you've got in the cupboard while I get ready to go and embarrass Sebastian in front of his friends. And to freeze my backside off.'
She couldn't even bring herself to look as Solveig hunted among her facial expressions for one that would show how hurt she was at the suggestion that she kept wine in the cupboard, since she had made a big thing in recent years of the fact that she didn't drink because of her 'heart tablets'. In the end she appeared to decide it wasn't worth the trouble. She'd already got Maya to do what she wanted, after all.
Her mother used to lie more quickly, if not more credibly, thought Maya as she struggled against the shards of icy rain a couple of hours later, following the dots of light illuminating the cycle track out of town.
She had stupidly thought that things would have changed when she came home, simply because external circumstances were so different. A strong wind had got up, and the rain lashed her face until her forehead ached with the cold. She started to swear out loud, the words muffled in her woollen scarf at first, but soon she was yelling her frustration at the top of her voice. Her curses seemed to be eaten by the wind, which had free rein now she had left the factories and the old warehouses behind and was cycling past open fields.
Things improved slightly when she turned off the cycle track, heading for the Evil Riders' club. There had been no need for her to worry about not finding it; the track was marked with a sign, and beneath it a burning torch had managed to stay alight in spite of the weather. Nor was there any risk of taking a wrong turning, since the narrow gravel track carried on into infinity, with no crossroads or any other buildings. It was pitch dark, the way ahead illuminated only by the feeble dynamo lamp on her bike. It felt like travelling into nothingness with neither a map nor compass to guide her.
It had been quite late by the time she had drunk her wine, put on suitable clothes and managed to find her old bike and pump up the tyres - she thought it must be getting on for midnight now. Please let it not be much further. She could leave the bike there and get Sebbe to give her a lift home on his moped. The thought cheered her up slightly.
Her energy held out and finally she spotted the lights of the club at the end of the winding black track. The sound of engines was getting louder; two cars and loud voices were coming towards her. She stopped and dragged the bike to the side of the road to let them pass. Music was pouring out of the club. The main door and several windows were wide open in spite of the cold. A dog ran out and relieved itself, lifting its leg against the plastered facade. It stared straight at Maya, before finding some scent on the ground to concentrate on.
Immediately after that a girl emerged; she had bleached blonde hair and was wearing a short skirt and boots. Maya felt as if she knew her from somewhere. The girl called to the dog and squatted down to scratch behind its ear before nodding briefly at Maya and going back inside. Maya took a deep breath and walked through the gate of the surrounding fence. She propped her bike against the wall next to an enormous motorbike with a sidecar.
The muscles in her face contracted before she stepped inside. She knew this meant that the familiar mask had settled into place, like a thin but strong film which would allow any insults simply to run off, or at least to give the appearance of not sticking.
A tall man in leathers with a long ponytail loomed up in front of her, blocking her view. When he moved she gazed across the smoky room. Apart from candles in bottles on rough tables and benches, a dozen glowing cigarettes and a small electric lamp above the long red-painted bar, there was no lighting. The corners were murky. The loud hum of voices, interspersed with the odd burst of laughter and the occasional shriek, revealed that the room was full of people doing their best to shout over the top of the music coming from upstairs. When her eyes got used to the darkness, she noticed figures sitting on the floor along the walls.
She couldn't see Sebastian anywhere. Most people were older - in their thirties - and many were wearing the bikers' club emblem on their backs. The man with the ponytail had stepped outside and was lighting a cigarette. He looked friendly. Maya leaned out.
'Excuse me! I was wondering if you've seen a boy called Sebastian. He's only fifteen, and he's with a friend who must be about the same age. I think his friend's name is Krister.'
Ponytail smiled and blew a puff of smoke into the air.
'There must be two hundred people in there -I haven't a clue what anybody's called or how old they are. There's a gig tonight, a band from the USA. Some kind of monster rock, not really my thing, but they pull in the crowds. So it's open house - anybody can come as long as they pay. We don't check everybody's ID, if you see what I mean. You're not a cop, are you?'
Raised voices broke through the general hubbub behind them. Maya wasn't ready for the sudden blow to her back which made her lose her balance and fall against Ponytail. He caught her adroitly and aimed a kick at the man behind her, who was somewhat over-refreshed.
'Watch it, dickhead.'
Ponytail didn't appear to take any notice of Dickhead's unrepentant response as he staggered back inside; he merely shook his head and pointed at Maya's jacket at breast level. 'You've got some beer on you.' He seemed to be wondering whether to help her wipe it off, but possibly decided that the gesture could be misinterpreted.
She waved away the mishap.
'No, I'm not with the police; I'm looking for my brother. I just thought you might know.'
He nodded and looked as if he were making an effort to think.
'Well, if he's only fifteen, I suppose maybe I should have spotted him. Go up and have a look - he's bound to be upstairs if he's here, that's where the band is playing. Have you tried the bar? He could be drinking himself senseless - that's what I did when I was fifteen.' He grinned, revealing a substantial plug of tobacco. 'Still do, in fact. But tonight I'm working, right through till daylight.'
He pulled a watch with a broken strap out of his pocket.
'I'm on the bar in a couple of hours. I'll treat you to a beer then,' he added. Maya didn't reply. She had no intention of staying that long.
On the steps leading to the upper floor sat a group of kids not much older than Sebastian. One of them nodded cheerfully when she finally managed to make her voice heard above the wall of sound coming from the heavy metal band. He pointed at the melee of headbangers jumping up and down in front of the stage. There was an ominous creaking underfoot; the floor seemed to be threatening to give way.
And there was Sebastian right at the front, absorbed by the band in their black robes, their faces painted white, emitting guttural cries through the feedback into the microphones. He was sitting at one corner of the stage, in front of a loudspeaker. Judging from the volume he ought to have been blown away, and would be at least half-deaf for the rest of the weekend.
Maya pushed her way forward. Just as she was about to grab her brother's sleeve, she stopped, seized by an impulse to look at him. It was months since she'd seen him. She thought he'd lost weight.
He gave a start, as if he really had been in another world. For a moment he looked at her, his expression unreadable. She yelled his name and more or less dragged him across the floor. The group on the stairs shuffled to one side to make room as she pushed her brother towards
the exit, suddenly filled with righteous indignation at having to endure this trial.
He tore himself free, but not before she managed to push him outside in one last moment of superiority. The rain and wind had died down, and snowflakes were hesitantly drifting from the sky.
'What the fuck are you doing?' he yelled.
Maya calmed herself and tried to put herself in his situation.
'Mum made me come to fetch you. She's out of her head with worry, apparently she'd said you couldn't go.'
'Yeah, and? If I took any notice of what she said I'd be as crazy as her.'
He had lost weight. With those dark rings under his eyes, he looked older than his fifteen years. She was filled with an unexpectedly powerful feeling of tenderness. She had always felt indifferent to her brother - when he wasn't irritating her with his chubby cheeks and tear-filled eyes, he was competing for her mother's affections.
She reached out and touched his denim-clad arm.
'Anyway, hello. I haven't seen you for ages. Is this all you're wearing?'
He nodded defiantly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. She placed her hand on his, slightly embarrassed, but suddenly she couldn't get enough of touching him. Things must have been so difficult for him since she moved out. Her cheeks burned at the thought. She drew his hand towards her. Sebastian lowered his eyes as if he were considering going home with her, or as if he were about to say something important, but then he seemed to change his mind.
She was shivering in spite of her coat.
'You need to come home now, Sebbe.'
Any hint of a concession was wiped out in an instant as he looked at her.
'Forget it. I've come to listen to the band. I'm not going home.'
He turned to go back inside, but she stopped him by moving in front of him. A couple of boys and a girl of Maya's age were standing chatting to the driver of some beaten-up passion wagon. They laughed raucously and shouted to Sebastian that it was long past his bedtime.
Maya tried to keep calm as something wild came into Sebastian's eyes. She couldn't bear the thought of going back to Solveig without her brother.
'Come on, for fuck's sake,' she hissed between clenched teeth. 'Besides, I can't get home if you don't give me a lift on the moped. I can't cycle back all that way,' she added in a slightly louder voice.
'That's your problem,' he said.
For a moment they weighed each other up. Maya felt exhausted after her long journey and then the bike ride. The tension of spending time with Solveig hit her like a blow to the back of the knees, and she was the first to look away. Sebastian roughly tore himself free of her grip, and pushed her away. She hadn't the strength to protest.
The band was taking a break. Applause and loud whistling could be heard from the upper floor now the music had stopped. People came pouring down the stairs to the bar. Sebastian pushed against the crowd as he made his way back up. Maya stood there at a loss, hoping he would change his mind.
Sweaty, out-of-breath rockers moved outside to cool down in the chilly night air. Deafened by the decibel count of the band, they were shouting at each other rather than talking.
The blonde girl came out, wrapping a wine-red scarf several times around her neck. This time Maya was sure she recognised her. She made eye contact and raised a hand in greeting. 'I think I've seen you at the station cafe.'
The girl smiled again and took a packet of cigarettes from her inside pocket. As former regulars at the Northern Station cafe - those who arrived when it opened and sat there until it closed, writing in their diaries, on napkins or in the visitors' books - they had a better idea of each others' innermost thoughts than of what other people looked like. As with all of those who wrote in the visitors' books, they had revealed their secrets and desires for others to applaud or mercilessly denigrate; everything was done in writing and under an alias, like a hidden world. It had been so important at the time.
'I thought you were from Gothenburg,' said Maya to the girl, who nodded.
'I am. I came here with a guy to see the band. And I've just found him snogging another girl. That's life.' She shrugged her shoulders. 'So you're from Borås, then. Tingeling.'
She had remembered Maya's alias, which was impressive after such a long time. Maya was warmed by the fact that she had made an impression.
'And you're Girl,' she replied, recognising her companion. They stood there for a while, considering the official exchange of letters that had taken place a couple of years earlier.
'You draw very well,' the girl said suddenly. 'Really well. You should do something with that.'
Maya squirmed in embarrassment. She could feel the colour rising in her cheeks. 'Thanks,' was all she could manage.
Raised voices could be heard from inside the club. A man in his thirties came tumbling out; it was Dickhead. He landed a couple of centimetres from Maya's shoes.
She rolled her eyes. 'And who are they?'
The girl watched Dickhead as he staggered back and forth.
'I don't know. They're from somewhere around Gothenburg, I think, but I don't know them. They seem to be completely rat-arsed already. Fucking pissheads.'
She turned back to Maya.
'Anyway, forget about them. Come and have a beer and we can chat about old times. I hardly know anybody. And on the way in we can accidentally knee that bloke in the groin, the one over in the corner who's practically sitting on that girl with a face like a monkey!'
Maya laughed and shook her head.
'I don't think I have the energy, to be honest. I've got to cycle back home to my mother - she'll go crazy otherwise. I was supposed to fetch my brother, but he's refused to leave, and if neither of us turns up, she'll ring the police - guaranteed.'
The girl looked at Maya, her expression inscrutable, and Maya almost changed her mind. She didn't know why she should suddenly take Solveig's feelings into account. The thought of a beer with Girl was far more appealing than the long lonely pitch-dark ride home, but still she felt she couldn't cope with the scene that would inevitably be waiting for her if she didn't hurry home. Solveig seemed more brittle than usual.
'If you like we can go to the bus stop together. I can give you a lift on my bike,' she offered.
Girl thought for a moment, but then shook her head.
'No, I'll stay. I'll try and get a lift to the station with somebody, it's so bloody cold. And then of course I don't want to miss the chance of telling Marten exactly what I think of him. I'm just waiting for the right moment.'
Maya nodded. She acknowledged that she was beaten as she wheeled her bicycle through the gate, ignoring a suggestive male voice calling her back. She definitely wasn't in the mood for flirting or witticisms.
She clenched her teeth until her jaws ached, concentrating on avoiding the icy patches on the track.
It was the same distance back to the club as it was up to the main road when the tyre burst. Only then did she begin to cry, from a combination of tiredness and anger. She tried to carry on cycling, despite the fact that the old, dried-out inner tube was flat against the ground. Soon the lactic acid was burning in her legs and she gave up. There was no alternative but to walk through the dense darkness and silence as the tears froze on her cheeks.
* * *
Chapter 32
As usual he bitterly regretted having agreed to drive home, and after a long wait that definitely tried his patience he'd had enough. Even if it annoyed him to have to go back inside yet again - at the risk of provoking Wolf he had called him by both his first name and surname, nagging like some old woman - that was exactly what he did.
'Will you shift your fucking arse.'
Not that it helped. Wolf had just bought yet another strong beer, and was slurping it at his leisure, half-sprawled across the table talking a load of bollocks to Pilen. And they were both happy to leave their mate standing out in the snow, waiting for them.Fucking bastards.
'If you're coming with me, you need to come now, otherwise you can find
your own fucking way home.'
Malle had good reason to be in a bad mood: he'd been slumped over the wheel of his rusty pickup for over half an hour. Wolf had had his licence taken away, and it wasn't the first time this year that Malle had ended up waiting outside like some kind of fucking chauffeur, jumping up and down to keep warm as dawn broke, before finally seizing his pissed-up mate and dragging him into the truck so that he could get away. And no doubt he would have to help Wolf into the house when they got back, bearing in mind that he couldn't walk, stand or sit.
Fuck. The idea of simply opening the door and shoving his friend out was tempting. Just to teach him a lesson. Although he'd end up lying exactly where he was dumped, and on a night like this he would freeze to death. Perhaps it was a bit harsh. But how that wife of his coped was a mystery.
Wolf was the only one of the three who had a wife, which proved that women always fall for a bastard with a pretty face, rather than a decent bloke with a face like an arse. Not that he was quite in that category, but looks had never been his strong point.
When it came to Pilen, the third comrade-in-arms, the arse theory was definitely no exaggeration. For most people, acne disappears along with their teens but Pilen had been unlucky. Not only did countless craters from old zits make his face resemble a moonscape, it was also covered with painful new eruptions that from time to time made his face look like a piece of raw steak. Stress, he would always claim - and he must have been seriously stressed.
In a way, perhaps it was a good thing that Pilen was able to blame his zits. It was probably much more difficult to handle the realisation that you were just too stupid to score; indeed most women ran a mile as soon as he opened his mouth. And bearing in mind the calibre of those around him - Wolf for example - it was obvious how incredibly stupid a person had to be in order for that particular quality to stand out.
The ladies hadn't exactly been falling over themselves to pull Malle either, although the odd one had made her interest known. But to tell the truth, he preferred to stay single rather than have some nagging whining old bag at home to provide for, poking her nose into everything and getting fatter with every year that went by. That's what had happened to most of his mates who had made the mistake of acquiring a wife, not to mention kids. They really did fuck things up completely.
Frozen Moment Page 20
