Daniel by Henning Mankell Page B

insects, and then sit in silence until the last patron was thrown out. Now he was standing by their table.
    â€˜There’s been talk of an expedition to a faraway desert,’ he said. ‘And one never expected to see the explorer return. Now here he sits as though nothing had happened. He has a black creature sitting across the table. A boy who looks like a shadow.’
    â€˜His name is Daniel,’ replied Bengler. ‘We’re only passing through.’
    â€˜So one’s studies shall not be resumed?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜I don’t wish to intrude,’ the Loop went on. ‘But the explorer, whose name has unfortunately slipped my mind, might possibly see his way clear to a small loan of a tenner.’
    Bengler felt in his pocket and pulled out two ten-kronor notes. It was too much but the Loop had recognised him. The notes vanished
in the Loop’s hand, though he didn’t bother to see how much he had got. Nor did he bother to say thank you.
    â€˜Everything is the same here,’ he said. ‘Maître d’s come and go, as do the waiters. The students grow younger and younger, the weather worse and worse, and the knowledge that is taught is more and more difficult to respect.’
    He expected no reply so turned and made his way back to his table.
    By the time the orange mousse was set on the table Bengler was quite tipsy. He waved the maître d’ over.
    â€˜Is it possible that the hotel could provide someone to watch the boy for a while?’ He pointed at Daniel. ‘I’m thinking of spending a few hours in the smoking room. It’s not a suitable environment for a child.’
    The maître d’ promised to enquire at the front desk. Daniel had finished all his food. During the long passage from Cape Town, Bengler had taught him to use a knife and fork. He could see that Daniel had to make an effort to do as he had been taught, but he didn’t spill anything or cram the food into his mouth. The maître d’ returned.
    â€˜They think it would be possible to have one of the chambermaids watch him.’
    Bengler paid the bill and stood up. He took a step sideways. Daniel smiled. He thinks I’m playing, thought Bengler. An intoxicated person is someone who’s playing, nothing more. They left the dining room. The Loop had disappeared. Conversations stopped again as they passed various tables. Once more Bengler got the feeling that he ought to say something. But what would he say? What could he actually explain? Or did he somehow feel a need to excuse himself for breaking an invisible rule of etiquette by bringing a black boy into a public dining room?
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    It turned out that the girl who was sent to look after Daniel was the same girl who had brought the hot water earlier.
    â€˜All you have to do is stay here,’ said Bengler. ‘You don’t have to talk or play with him. Just stay here. What’s your name?’
    â€˜Charlotta.’
    â€˜Just see that he doesn’t open the window,’ Bengler went on. ‘Or go out of the door. I’ll be down in the smoking room.’

    Daniel seemed to understand what he said. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Bengler.
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    The room beyond the dining room was just as he remembered it. The tobacco smoke that hovered like a motionless fog, the sweet smell of arrack punch, the dim light from the kerosene lamps. He stood in the doorway and looked around. It was as if he recognised all the faces even though the people there were strangers to him. A chair right next to one of the windows was free. He went over to it. The thought of punch didn’t appeal to him so he ordered cognac. For the first time in ages he felt free. Daniel was a burden. He had taken it on himself, but still the boy was a burden. Had he ever thought about what a responsibility he had shouldered? The cognac muddled his thoughts. All he knew was that he had to take Daniel with him to