The Merman (24 page)

He was lying on his back with his face just under the surface of the water. His eyes seemed brighter now, clearer, sharper as he observed me. But his expression was terrified. He'd been silent because he didn't know who was coming, because I was completely lacking in feelings, which is why he couldn't recognise me. Because he was afraid they'd found him again.

There were a few stone steps leading down into the root cellar. I sat down on the step closest to the water's surface. If I'd wanted to, I could have reached out and touched him.

I thought of that painting by John Bauer that was in our Swedish textbook, of a girl sitting by a small lake in a forest and looking at her reflection in the water. I'd always wondered what she was looking at. Because it wasn't her reflection she was interested in, it was what was underneath. That's how I thought of myself sitting there, like the girl in that picture.

The creature asked if something had happened. He sensed it, that I was worried and sad. He wished he could help me, he said,
but he understood nothing about our world, our rules. The best thing was if I just sat there and calmed down.

He was happy to see me, he explained; he hadn't recognised me at first and had thought it was the others, the ones who wanted to harm him, but now he knew that wasn't the case. He felt better now, stronger. He could tell because his hunger was back. Soon he would need to eat again. For the first time in a long time he had an appetite. And there was nothing left of the fish we'd left for him; he'd eaten everything.

‘I'll come back soon. With Tommy, if you remember. We'll bring some more food for you. As much as you want.'

He said he understood. And oddly enough, that reassured me. The creature reassured me, without my noticing. As if he were singing an inaudible song for me, a lullaby or comforting song that went straight into my nervous system and put everything right. As if he could dry my tears on the inside and fix what was broken just by being himself.

He asked if he could help me. If I came with him out to sea, he said, he could help me there. But he understood that wouldn't work. We were different creatures, not from his species; we were here on the surface, in our world, which was completely different from his. He wondered why my friend wasn't with me. Had something happened to him as well? Had the others taken my friend, the same ones who had harmed him? I calmed him down, explained to him that there was nothing to worry about, everything was fine, Tommy was safe and we hadn't forgotten our promise to take him back to where he belonged.

His mouth sort of pressed together into a grimace which I knew was a smile. Soon, he said, soon he would be ready to return.

His gills were moving, like soft valves underwater. The gash in his cheek had almost completely healed. It was the water that healed it, I thought, the same as it was healing the other wounds on his body.

Then I saw another remarkable thing: he suddenly did a trick
for me. As if he wanted to show he was on the road to recovery by twirling around. He rolled over two or three times in the water before coming to a rest again, on his back, just under the surface and looked at me with those almost glowing eyes.
Do you understand?
he said.
I'm better now. Soon I'll be ready
...

It was getting dark outside. I thought about Mum and my brother, and that the worst possible thing might happen: they might split us up... And the creature sort of followed my thoughts, comforted me from where he was down there in the water – not that he understood what it was about, but he understood I was afraid.
Everything will be all right
, he whispered inside my head.
Don't be sad, everything will work out
. As if he knew more than I did. As if he had a premonition of everything that was going to happen.

I
was awoken in the middle of the night by the phone ringing. At first I didn't know where I was. I'd gone straight from dreaming to reality. Then I noticed my brother next to me. He was lying on his side, holding my hand and snoring almost imperceptibly, and had stolen the whole duvet.

I got up. It was pitch-black outside. I had fallen asleep beside him with my clothes on.

The phone was ringing againg downstairs, irascible, insistent that someone should answer. I crept past my parents' bedroom. The door was open.

The room was empty. The wardrobe doors were wide open, as if they'd left in a mad panic.

The phone kept ringing as if it was possessed. It was on the hall table underneath the cracked mirror. I picked up the receiver and heard the Professor's voice.

‘Nella, is that you?'

‘Yes.'

‘You've got to come here. The place is on fire. Can you bring some clothes? It's below zero and I'm standing outside, naked.'

‘Are you okay?'

‘A bit underdressed for the conditions is all. I suppose I could warm up if I went closer to the house. But I don't fancy it. It's blazing'

‘Where are you ringing from?'

‘There's a phone point in the garage. But it's going to die at any moment ... '

I grabbed a few clothes from Dad's wardrobe upstairs. He was obviously travelling light, because his winter coat and boots were
still there. I could hear my brother snoring through the wall. Did he know where Mum was? Had she told him about her plans?

Then I remembered I had a job to do. The Professor hadn't sounded scared, but maybe he was just in shock. I stuffed the clothes into a plastic carrier bag and went out to my bike.

I saw the fire from several hundred metres away. The sky was lit up above. I could also smell the burning because the wind was coming in off the sea. It was freezing cold. The puddles had frozen over, and I nearly wiped out when I turned off onto the track leading up to the house.

The windows were illuminated from inside, as if the fire was living its own life in there, moving back and forth in a sort of dance across the floor. I could hear sirens far off in the distance.

The heat became almost unbearable the closer I got. And the noise... I'd never heard anything like it. Like a single uninterrupted crash, a fire machine that was running and making an infernal racket. There were strange hissing sounds when the flames found fresh wood to bite into, and explosion-like blasts when ceiling panels came crashing down.

The Professor was standing a hundred feet from the house by the old barn. As I made a loop around the yard to avoid the heat, I could see him as clearly as if it had been the middle of the day. The fire was illuminating everything in the vicinity. He was naked except for a pair of long johns and a scarf draped over his shoulders. He had a pair of wooden clogs on his feet. His face was sooty and he looked immensely sorrowful. He didn't even seem to notice me until I was standing right in front of him and handed him the bag of clothes.

‘How nice you could come,' he said. ‘I didn't know who to call.'

He mumbled something inaudible while I helped him into the coat. That was his life that was going up in flames in there, I thought, his books, all his strange collections. The keys were probably melting in the heat up in the attic. The taxidermy
animals, postage stamps, collections of coins, beer mats, books, reference books, piles of newspaper clipping – everything was on fire. He hadn't even got his crutches out.

‘It's arson,' he said as he pulled on Dad's trousers.

‘How do you know?'

‘I just know... somebody who didn't give a damn whether I was at home or not.'

The sirens were getting closer. The fire brigade were on their way.

‘I was lucky enough to wake up in time. The cat woke me. Or maybe I just dreamt she was sitting by the bed howling at full volume. The room was filled with smoke by that point. But I haven't seen her since then. Do you think she's still in there?'

He was in shock, I now realised. Underneath the soot his face was as white as a sheet. His eyes darted around, and he didn't seem to be taking in that I was there.

‘I'm sure she made it out.'

‘I jumped from the window up there. Don't ask me how, and don't ask me how I'm still standing up.'

Some people had started to gather further down the drive. Neighbours, I guessed, from the nearby farms. They seemed completely immobile, or else the heat was so fierce they didn't dare to come any closer.

‘But you didn't hear anything?' I asked. ‘No voices or anything like that?'

‘Scooters,' he said. ‘Leaving the road. I saw them, too. When I jumped. They stood still. Their lights were on. Then they just rode off, into town.'

‘Maybe to ring for help,' I said. ‘Can't you hear? The fire brigade are on their way.'

We could see the fire engines over on the main road now. Soon they would turn onto the gravel track leading up to the house.

‘What the hell am I going to do now?' He sounded desperate. ‘Where am I even going to live?'

I didn't have a clue what to say to him. I didn't have a clue
how I was going to come up with anything that even approached reassurance.

The vehicles were getting closer. They took a detour across the field to avoid the flames. Then they turned ninety degrees and drove straight through the wooden fence up into the farmyard. I put my arm around the Professor's waist. This was my fate, I thought, to comfort people who were even sadder than I was. Not because I had it better than others, but because it always just fell to me.

‘We need to try to get hold of your mum,' I said. ‘And you've got to sit down somewhere. Can you walk if I hold you up?'

He didn't answer. Just stared wild-eyed towards the house. The flames were reflected in his eyes. It looked horrible, like a scene from a nightmare.

‘Let's go over to the neighbours. Do you see... they're standing over there by the road. They'll help us.'

But we didn't need to go anywhere. Suddenly there were lots of people all round us. Firemen checking the outbuildings, the shed and the woodshed. Others had started fighting the blaze. Maybe I was also kind of in shock, because I could hear people speaking quite clearly even though the noise of the fire was deafening and some of them were standing over a hundred feet away.

Two paramedics came over to us, but the Professor took no notice of them.

‘How did it go with your essay, by the way?' he said absently. ‘I'd like to read it when you've finished.'

‘Of course you can. And I'm glad you helped me. Thanks.'

‘It wasn't easy. There's not much that's been written about mermaids, you see. Mainly fairy tales with tragic endings.'

The paramedics also seemed to realise he was in shock. Without saying a word, they wrapped him in a blanket and helped him over to the ambulance.
Three days later I met Gerard at the pinball arcade in Olofsbo. The meeting had been arranged. He'd rung the doorbell that morning, and when I opened the door he was just standing there holding his crash helmet, a roll-up in the corner of his mouth, looking straight at me.

‘I want you to come to the Mill tonight,' he said. ‘Eight o'clock. We need to have a chat.'

He peered over my shoulder into the house.

‘Is this how you live, Ironing Board? All on your own. Like Pippi Longstocking. Bloody hell, look at the state of the place!'

He knew Mum and Dad had left, I thought. He knew what was going on. He'd been keeping us under surveillance.

‘And both you and your brother are holed up at home. You haven't been at school this week.'

He was right on that count as well. But that was information that was easier to come by. Gradually, it dawned on me that he was actually there on our front step at nine in the morning.

‘You can say whatever you've got to say to me now,' I said. ‘I don't need to meet with you somewhere else to do that.'

‘The Mill is a better place. I haven't got time right now.'

He turned and picked up something he'd placed behind him on the step. I saw what it was even before he handed it to me: a taxidermy hare in its winter coat. From the Professor's collection.

‘I thought you might like to have this. Or maybe your mate would want it back. It was a shame it nearly got ruined. It almost looks like it's alive.'

I peered down to the street. Just his motorbike was there, a blue Puch Dakota with Esso stickers on the petrol tank. No sign of Ola or Peder.

‘What do you want from me?'

‘Just to talk a little about the future. But first you get this hare. As a reminder that I keep my promises.'

The phone started ringing. It had been ringing constantly the past few days, but we hadn't bothered answering.

‘I won't keep you,' he said. ‘That might be important, somebody who needs to get hold of you. Come to the arcade at eight. And bring my money.'

He's sick, I thought as I watched him walk over to his bike and kick-start it. He just wasn't right in the head. He even waved to me as he rode off, down towards Solrosvägen, and finally the phone stopped ringing.

‘Who was it?' asked my brother when I closed the door. He'd just got up and hadn't even put any clothes on.

‘Nobody you know.'

‘He was riding a motorbike anyway. Is there any breakfast?'

‘Only crispbread. But I'll go shopping today.'

I didn't want to make him more worried than he was already. So Mum and Dad had finally cleared off, just as they'd warned me they would; they left two hundred kronor in an envelope on the hall table and disappeared out of the picture. That sort of thing just didn't happen, but it did happen to us.

Mum hadn't even said anything to Robert. That job had fallen to me.

‘What's going to happen now?' he asked when I explained the situation to him. And I answered quite honestly that I didn't know.

That was three days ago, on the morning after the fire at the Professor's place. We hadn't been to school since then. There was no point. The women from social services would still turn up. Attendance and compulsory education were irrelevant. There was no chance they would let us stay here together.