He walked back out into the training area. The boys in the ring had stopped swaying and the nosebleed had dried up. Humlin recognised the boy with the bloody nose. He was one of Leyla’s relatives. He smiled at Humlin, who only now noticed that the boy’s eye was swelling shut.
The boys went into the changing room. Humlin pulled on a pair of boxing gloves and started hitting a sand bag. It hurt. He wished he was punching Olof Lundin. When he broke into a sweat, he stopped. The boy with the nosebleed came back out. He was dressed in baggy pants and a long T-shirt, both articles of clothing covered with images of the American flag.
‘Someone’s coming.’
‘Who is it?’
‘I don’t know. One of them, but you’d better wait outside.’
The boy left, shortly followed by the other one. Humlin walked out onto the street. It was raining. He was reminded of the night Tanya had turned up out of the shadows and he had thought he was about to be mugged. He jumped. Tanya was right behind him. As usual she had managed not to make a sound.
‘Where’s Tea-Bag?’
She didn’t answer. They started walking.
‘Where are we going?’
‘The city centre.’
‘I thought Tea-Bag was here?’
Again there was no answer. They took the tram. A drunk man tried to talk to Tanya, but she swore at him with startling ferocity. It was like seeing her turn into a dangerous predator. The man immediately backed off.
They got off close to Göta square. The rain had stopped. Tanya led the way onto one of the small but impressive streets above the square where large stone villas lay nestled in expansive, well-tended gardens. Tanya stopped by the gate to one of the less-impressive mansions.
‘Is this where Tea-Bag is staying?’
Tanya nodded.
‘Who lives here?’
‘Gothenburg’s Chief of Police.’
Humlin flinched.
‘It’s no big deal. He’s gone to a conference, and his family aren’t home either. Plus he has no alarm system.’
Tanya opened the gate. The front door was slightly ajar. The curtains were drawn in the large living room on the ground floor. Tea-Bag lay on the floor watching TV with the sound turned low. The programme was a Swedish film from the 1950s. The actor Hasse Ekman was turning on the charm for some actress Humlin couldn’t remember the name of. She’s watching a film about an extinct species, Humlin thought. A Sweden whose inhabitants no longer exist.
There was a clatter from the kitchen. Tanya was making a meal. Tea-Bag quickly got up and joined her. Humlin heard them laughing. Then he was startled by the sound of the front door opening. But it wasn’t the Chief of Police, it was Leyla. She was red in the face and sweating heavily.
‘I love him,’ she said.
Then she too disappeared out into the kitchen. Humlin wondered if he was ever going to hear the rest of her story. He joined the girls and sat down next to Tanya who was chopping onions, tears streaming down her face.
‘How did you know this house was empty?’
‘Someone told me, I can’t remember who. After everything me and Tea-Bag have been through I think it’s only fair that we get to borrow it for a while.’
‘Can I help with anything?’
No one answered.
Slowly the table was filled with the contents of both of the large refrigerators. It was one of the most remarkable meals he had ever had, even compared to his mother’s late-night feasts. Everything was brought out and mixed; champagne and juice, pickled herring and jam. This isn’t happening, Humlin thought. If I were ever to write about this evening, this meal in the absent police chief’s house, no one would believe me.
He tried to remain alert for outside noises, checked that the curtains remained drawn and waited for the doors to be thrown open. But nothing happened. He did not participate in the conversation which simply jumped between the three girls. Giggling teenagers have the same language, he thought, regardless of where they come from.
A strip of passport pictures of the three of them was passed back and forth and finally landed in Humlin’s hands. He had done the same thing in his youth, pressed himself into a picture booth, pulled the curtain and had his picture taken. Tea-Bag found a pair of scissors and cut out the four snapshots. They walked into the living room. There was a row of family portraits on the bureau. They picked out a photograph of a large group of people gathered in the shade of a big tree.
‘What strange clothes,’ Tea-Bag said. ‘When was this?’
Humlin looked at the picture.
‘That’s from the late nineteenth century,’ he said.
‘This is where we belong,’ Tea-Bag said, opening up the back of the frame and stuffing one of the passport pictures into a corner.
‘What will they think?’ Leyla said when Tea-Bag had replaced the back of the frame and put the picture on the bureau. ‘They won’t understand. They won’t appreciate the riddle — the best gift anyone could get.’
Humlin looked at the picture. The three smiling faces were already blending into the old picture of the people who had posed for the camera one hundred years ago.
