Part 16 (1/2)

Matte put the tray down on the coffee table and looked at the bookcase as if he'd only just discovered that it was there.

'No. But I thought I would. Eventually.'

The tea looked peculiar, bright red. It smelled peculiar too. And it tasted peculiar. Bitter and flowery at the same time. Matte watched me as I lifted the cup to my lips, and I thought: He's trying to poison me.

'Have you got any sugar? It's slightly bitter.'

'Sugar, no. Sorry. No sugar.'

I put down the poisoned chalice and leaned back in the armchair. There was something about Matte that didn't inspire small talk, so I said, 'So what was it you wanted to tell me?'

'Did you find the photograph?'

I fetched the photo from my coat pocket in the hallway, put it down on the coffee table. Matte bent over it and nodded. Then he sat there staring at it for a while. I sat down again. When I thought the silence had gone on for long enough, I said, 'What did we look like, eh?'

'Mm.' Matte pointed at the teacher. 'Do you remember her?'

'No, not really. She was a subst.i.tute, I think.'

'A subst.i.tute teacher, yes.'

Matte got up and went over to the stereo unit, one of those towers of plastic, k.n.o.bs and diodes that everyone had in the eighties; you can pick them up for a hundred kronor at flea markets all over the place these days. No CD player. Out of a drawer he took a magnifying gla.s.s, then came and sat down again. He pa.s.sed the magnifying gla.s.s over the photograph, making small noises to himself.

Two thoughts: One, he did actually have something in the drawers, it wasn't all just set dressing.

Two, there was still something badly wrong with him.

I sipped my tea, which didn't actually taste too bad once you got over the initial surprise. Matte put down the magnifying gla.s.s.

'OK. The thing I wanted to tell you is about her.' Matte pointed to the subst.i.tute teacher. 'Do you remember her name?'

'No. All I remember is...she played us some music, didn't she?'

Matte suddenly laughed. A brief, joyless laugh. It struck me that his slow movements, social inept.i.tude and quiet, almost whispering voice were down to the fact that he was inst.i.tutionalised, or whatever it's called. He'd been locked up for quite a long time, that was all.

'Her name was Vera and the music she played us was The Wall. You know, The Wall. Pink Floyd.'

'Oh yes. Now you come to mention it. The Wall. That was it.'

Matte looked me in the eye.

'You do remember this? You're not just saying that because I said it?'

'No, I do remember. I thought that business of not needing an education was a bit odd, a teacher playing something like that. But what about it?'

'Do you remember her?'

I slid the photograph towards me and stared at the woman in the picture. Her face was no bigger than the nail on my little finger, and I made a movement to take the magnifying gla.s.s, but Matte stopped me.

'No. Not yet. Wait till I've told you.'

I understood nothing, but I just had to let it go. I peered at the picture. The woman, Vera, had a round face that could have been really pretty if every element of it hadn't been too small. Thin lips, small eyes and a straight, slender nose. As if everything had been pushed in towards the middle by a small but critical amount, giving her the expression of a skilfully painted balloon. The dark brown hair sat on her head like a helmet. Yes. A German helmet from the Second World War, the ends of her hair curling outwards a fraction to complete the resemblance.

The image came to life in my memory, and I recalled an unpleasant feeling. There had been some kind of disagreeable aura surrounding the woman who had come in when our usual teacher was on maternity leave.

'Do you remember?'

'Yes. I remember. There was something kind of unpleasant about her, as I recall.'

Matte nodded.

'Yes, although I didn't feel that way. At the time. As you might remember, things weren't going too well for me just then. Dad's dead, by the way. Killed himself six months after I...disappeared.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'It's a long time ago. I could...understand it in a way. The car, the vacuum-cleaner hose. It wasn't really something that touched me. It was just part of everything that was going on. Everything will disappear. Anyway. This subst.i.tute teacher. Vera. When she arrived I didn't take much notice. I sat at the back most of the time eating Refreshers, those chewy sweets with sherbet inside. But then she did that thing, if you remember. It was only her second day, and she brought in a ghetto blaster and said she wanted to play something to us.'

'The Wall.'

'Yes. The Wall. And when she pressed Play...as soon as those first chords, the sound of the guitar, those thin chords on the guitar, a fragile echo as if they were playing in a big room...you know the song? 'Hey You'? Those chords at the beginning? Something got to me right from the start. It was something about the tone. And when he started singing...'

Matte looked at me, cleared his throat and started to sing. 'Hey you...'

Now I remembered the song. Matte actually sounded better than the original, and the hairs stood up on my arms: Must get that alb.u.m.

Matte went on, 'It was perfect, somehow. Love at first sound, as it were. Iron Maiden and all that c.r.a.p, it was just...that's another story, but I never really liked it. This, on the other hand. This. .h.i.t the mark right away. The lyrics, of course, but I think it was mostly the atmosphere. The way it sounded. It was me, if you know what I mean. It was the sound of my life.'

'The soundtrack of our lives.'

'What?'

'Nothing. Go on.'

'And it was as if she was playing it for me. Maybe she was, I don't know. But it did for me completely. And then when the next one started, 'Is there anybody out there?', it was just...it was perfect.'

Matte leaned back in the armchair and closed his eyes. I couldn't work out where this was going, but listening was OK. Things I thought had gone forever suddenly twitched and came to life again. I could see the light from the window falling on Ulrika's hair as she sat in front of me. A hair slide in the shape of...a ladybird. Yes. A ladybird. The smell of scented erasers. Matte opened his eyes.

'I wanted to borrow it. But I was scared to ask. It was as if... looking back, I think I didn't want to expose myself in that way. Ask for something. I didn't like asking for anything.'

'No. You were pretty much...closed up.'

Matte ignored my comment.

'But the next day something happened that meant I could ask.' He gestured towards the picture. 'You remember she had a finger missing?'

Stupidly I looked at the picture to check his a.s.sertion, but Vera had her hands behind her back. Anyway, I remembered. The little finger on one hand was missing. We talked about it, but n.o.body asked her what had happened. Perhaps it was more exciting that way.

I nodded.

'OK. The following day she asked me to come to the blackboard. I think she wanted me to spell some word in English. I was pretty good at English, and maybe she wanted to encourage me, or...' Matte shook his head. 'No, I mustn't think in those terms. Not as far as she's concerned. But that was what I thought at the time. Anyway. When I came up to the board and she handed me the chalk, I dropped it and we both bent down at the same time to pick it up. And when I saw that she was on her way down too, I looked up. And then I saw...I mean, her hair lay really flat against her head, but when she bent down and I was looking from a particular angle...I could see that she had no ear. On one side.'