looked at him as he stood there motionless, staring up at the building. They looked inthe same direction to see if they could spot what he was gazing at, but didn’t seem to notice anything odd. Nothing was
moving
, thank God. The block wasn’t about to collapse. In the end he couldn’t help himself; he stopped a young man.
‘Excuse me?’
The man took off his earphones.
‘What?’
‘Sorry, but…would you mind looking at those apartment blocks and telling me if you can see anything strange?’
The man immediately did as Joel had asked. He stared for a few seconds, then shook his head. ‘No. Like what?’
‘It’s listing. The building nearest to us is listing.’
The man looked again. For a little while longer this time. Music was whispering from the earphones round his neck.
‘Yes,’ he said eventually. ‘Yes, it is. A little bit.’ Joel looked at him encouragingly and the man pushed his lips forward, repeated, ‘Yes, it is.’ He was about to put the earphones back on, but stopped and said, ‘Maybe that’s normal?’ He replaced the earphones and went on his way.
Joel stayed where he was. Did tower blocks list slightly? He couldn’t remember ever reading about any such building falling over all by itself. Not in Sweden, anyway. But the bad feeling had only come today. It must have happened overnight, during the storm.
He’d called Anita around ten, because he couldn’t stand the way the building
swayed
when the wind was strong enough. Couldn’t sleep. So he had called Anita, and as soon as he said who it was, she asked, ‘Is it the wind?’
‘Yes. Can I come down?’
He could. He had spent the rest of the night in her apartment. Been beaten at Scrabble then made love routinely, without passion or any sense that something was missing. It was fine just the way it was. Neither of them wanted more, neither of them wanted to stop. Theydidn’t want to merge their lives. If differences of opinion arose, they simply stayed away from one another for a few days and let things settle down. Then they got together again.
They had parted in the morning with a dry kiss, a caress on the cheek, and Joel had gone off to the ironmonger’s feeling relatively happy. That was the state he was aiming for: relatively happy. Happiness could easily tip over into its opposite, and depression was hard to break. You could be relatively happy all the time, if you took it easy.
At the bottom of the stairs Joel stopped and looked at the list of names. Column after column of names he couldn’t put a face to. Right at the top of the left hand column: Andersson. Down at the bottom of the right hand column: Andersson. Between these known poles an undivided village on a hill. Plastic letters that could be swapped around all too easily, rearranged into new names without faces.
He didn’t bother ringing Anita’s doorbell because there were no lights on in her apartment; instead he went straight up in the lift. Now that he had something concrete to which he could attribute the bad feeling, it was no longer so strong. His building was falling down, that was all. Probably quite normal.
But he couldn’t shake off the thought. As soon as he got inside he took the spirit level out of the bottom drawer in the kitchen and placed it on the floor. He lay down on his stomach next to it so that he could see properly and studied the little air bubble. It was possibly a fraction of a millimetre closer to the window. He changed position and lay alongside the spirit level with his feet pointing towards the kitchen window.
Yes. He could feel it. He might possibly have been a little oversensitive, but his head was definitely lower than his feet. He took a pair of pliers, broke open a bearing that was lying among all the rubbish in the drawer and tipped the balls on the floor. They didn’t roll away.
Hard to stop once you’ve started. He thought for a while, then remembered what to do. He took out a reel of thick string and tied a
moving
, thank God. The block wasn’t about to collapse. In the end he couldn’t help himself; he stopped a young man.
‘Excuse me?’
The man took off his earphones.
‘What?’
‘Sorry, but…would you mind looking at those apartment blocks and telling me if you can see anything strange?’
The man immediately did as Joel had asked. He stared for a few seconds, then shook his head. ‘No. Like what?’
‘It’s listing. The building nearest to us is listing.’
The man looked again. For a little while longer this time. Music was whispering from the earphones round his neck.
‘Yes,’ he said eventually. ‘Yes, it is. A little bit.’ Joel looked at him encouragingly and the man pushed his lips forward, repeated, ‘Yes, it is.’ He was about to put the earphones back on, but stopped and said, ‘Maybe that’s normal?’ He replaced the earphones and went on his way.
Joel stayed where he was. Did tower blocks list slightly? He couldn’t remember ever reading about any such building falling over all by itself. Not in Sweden, anyway. But the bad feeling had only come today. It must have happened overnight, during the storm.
He’d called Anita around ten, because he couldn’t stand the way the building
swayed
when the wind was strong enough. Couldn’t sleep. So he had called Anita, and as soon as he said who it was, she asked, ‘Is it the wind?’
‘Yes. Can I come down?’
He could. He had spent the rest of the night in her apartment. Been beaten at Scrabble then made love routinely, without passion or any sense that something was missing. It was fine just the way it was. Neither of them wanted more, neither of them wanted to stop. Theydidn’t want to merge their lives. If differences of opinion arose, they simply stayed away from one another for a few days and let things settle down. Then they got together again.
They had parted in the morning with a dry kiss, a caress on the cheek, and Joel had gone off to the ironmonger’s feeling relatively happy. That was the state he was aiming for: relatively happy. Happiness could easily tip over into its opposite, and depression was hard to break. You could be relatively happy all the time, if you took it easy.
At the bottom of the stairs Joel stopped and looked at the list of names. Column after column of names he couldn’t put a face to. Right at the top of the left hand column: Andersson. Down at the bottom of the right hand column: Andersson. Between these known poles an undivided village on a hill. Plastic letters that could be swapped around all too easily, rearranged into new names without faces.
He didn’t bother ringing Anita’s doorbell because there were no lights on in her apartment; instead he went straight up in the lift. Now that he had something concrete to which he could attribute the bad feeling, it was no longer so strong. His building was falling down, that was all. Probably quite normal.
But he couldn’t shake off the thought. As soon as he got inside he took the spirit level out of the bottom drawer in the kitchen and placed it on the floor. He lay down on his stomach next to it so that he could see properly and studied the little air bubble. It was possibly a fraction of a millimetre closer to the window. He changed position and lay alongside the spirit level with his feet pointing towards the kitchen window.
Yes. He could feel it. He might possibly have been a little oversensitive, but his head was definitely lower than his feet. He took a pair of pliers, broke open a bearing that was lying among all the rubbish in the drawer and tipped the balls on the floor. They didn’t roll away.
Hard to stop once you’ve started. He thought for a while, then remembered what to do. He took out a reel of thick string and tied a
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