The Princess of Burundi - Kjell Eriksson [90]
“You can borrow mine,” said a girl and stretched it out to him.
“Thanks,” Lennart said and dropped the boy. “Two minutes,” he said and walked off to the side.
He called Micke, who had just fallen asleep on the sofa and answered incoherently. They talked for a few minutes. Lennart threw the cell phone into the snow and took off half running over Skomakarberget.
Berit had just turned off the TV. For some reason she had become more interested in the news since John’s death. Even Justus joined her in front of the television. Maybe it was to measure their misfortune against everything else happening in the world, to feel that they weren’t alone. Quite the opposite, as it turned out, violence was doubled and reprised many times over on the TV screen.
She threw the remote control onto the table and put her hand on Justus’s shoulder. He was about to get up, but she wanted him to stay on the couch with her a little while longer. He turned his head and looked at her.
“Sit a little longer,” she said, and to her surprise he sank back.
“What’s a Traveler?” he asked.
“The Travelers? Well,” Berit said. “Well, what to say? They were a kind of people who weren’t gypsies but not Swedish either. Dark. There were big Traveler families, or clans. Your father used to talk about them. ‘They’re Travelers,’ he might say about people. He said that explained a lot about a person. Why do you ask?”
“A kid I met outside said that.”
“About who?”
“About Dad,” Justus said and looked at her with that mercilessly direct gaze that would take no half-truths or evasions. “He said Dad was a Traveler.”
“That’s not true,” Berit said. “You know that. Your father was light-haired.”
“But Lennart is dark.”
“Justus, it’s just something kids say. There are no Travelers anymore. Was he mean to you? Who was it?”
“Patrik,” Justus said. “But he’s screwed up. His dad beats his new wife.”
“What are you saying?”
“Everyone knows about it.”
She thought about his words. Of course he would be likely to hear a thing or two, but she wasn’t worried. He was used to standing up for himself. Justus could look delicate but it was a mistake to think he was soft all the way through. Inside, he was as hard as flint, just like John.
She sniffled involuntarily at the thought of John. Justus stared straight ahead but put his hand in her lap.
“Dad wanted us to move,” he said. “I did too.”
“Where would we move to? When did he say this?”
“During the fall. He wanted us to move far away.”
“He had his dreams, you know that. But I think he was happy here.”
“He said he wanted to get away from this shit hole.”
“He did?” Berit stared at him in amazement. “He used those words?”
Justus nodded and stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to feed the fish.”
Berit watched him from the sofa. He moved like John, making the same hand movement over the surface of the water. The cichlids swam up to him in sweeping groups, beautifully synchronized so that they looked like one big body.
Then someone thumped on the door. The person didn’t bother with the doorbell, just kept thumping. Justus dropped the can of fish food and stared into the hall. Berit got up but felt as if her shaky legs were not going to carry her. She looked over toward the clock on the sideboard.
“Do you want me to get it?” Justus asked.
“No, I’ll go see who it is,” she said and walked to the front door.
The thumping had stopped. She put the chain on the door and opened it. Lennart was standing outside.
“Why are you banging on the door?”
She thought about not letting him in, but he would make such a racket in the stairwell that it was just as well to let him in. He came in like a shot.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Don’t start that with me, you bitch. I’ve never been more sober in my life. Bitch!”
“Go away!” Berit said curtly and opened the door again, holding it wide open and boring her eyes into Lennart’s.
“Take it easy. I’ll leave when I’m good and ready. There’s something you need to tell me.”
“Justus, go to your room,” Berit said with a shrill voice. She