fifteen before
learning how to do that?
Nevertheless, he had made up his mind to be cautious.
He opened the door quietly, bowed a greeting to Miss
Arvidson and took off his dirty boots. Then he went over
to the shelves and selected a few religious books. He
carried them over to the issue desk.
Miss Arvidson examined the titles and nodded in
approval. And started stamping them.
Here we go.
'I'd like to borrow a book about how to write secret
letters,' Joel said.
Miss Arvidson looked at him in astonishment.
'Secret letters?'
'Love letters,' said Joel. 'Secret love letters.'
Miss Arvidson burst out laughing. It occurred to Joel
that he must be the first person in the whole world who
had heard Miss Arvidson laughing. Lots of disbelieving
faces peered out from among the bookshelves.
Miss Arvidson was howling with laughter.
She laughed so much that Joel started laughing as well.
That made her furious.
'That's the silliest thing I've ever heard,' she said. 'A
book about how to write secret letters! Of course there's
no such book.'
'Love letters,' said Joel. 'It's not me who wants it, it's
my dad.'
Involving Samuel was no problem, Joel had decided.
He never went near the library anyway.
'If your dad wants to write love letters, he'll have to
manage it on his own,' said Miss Arvidson. 'We have
love poems. But not love letters.'
'Maybe that would do,' said Joel.
Miss Arvidson eyed him up and down, then went to a
shelf and returned with two slim volumes.
'These are pretty love poems,' she said, and started
stamping the books. 'But next time he'll have to come
and borrow them himself.'
Joel cycled back home and put the potatoes on to boil.
Then he started reading the thin poetry collections.
They were mostly about roses and thorns. Tears and
desperate longing. The word 'desperation' came over
and over again.
That would have to do.
When he and Samuel had finished their dinner, he
would write the letters.
One letter from Gertrud to the Caviar Man. One letter
from the Caviar Man to Gertrud.
He had taken some sheets of letter-paper and some
envelopes from Samuel's room.
His big plan was ready.
But when he sat in bed after dinner, resting his letter-paper
on an atlas, it didn't seem so straightforward.
Where should their secret meeting take place?
There wasn't a single statue anywhere in the little
town. There wasn't really anywhere that could be called
a park. Besides, it had to be a place where Joel could
hide nearby and listen to what they said to each other.
He wandered through the whole town in his thoughts.
He kept stopping, but failed to find a suitable place.
The churchyard was too spooky after dark.
There were no lights on the football pitch. They
wouldn't even be able to find each other.
In the end, just as he was about to give up, he found
the solution.
Mr Under's, the horse dealer's, garden.
It was big, there were lots of trees, and Mr Under had
nothing against other people besides himself strolling
about in it. There was also a little birdbath, which was
the nearest to a statue you could find in this place.
In addition, Mr Under wasn't at home. Every autumn
he used to travel south in order to buy horses.
Joel could hide behind the woodshed. It was only a
few metres from there to the birdbath.
So that was that! They'd meet at eight o'clock on
Saturday evening.
So now he needed to write the two letters. To make
sure the handwriting was different, he wrote Gertrud's
letter with his right hand and the Caviar Man's with his
left. The one from the Caviar Man was hardest to write:
the letters kept wandering off in all directions and he got
cramp in his fingers. But eventually, they were done.
He read through what he had written.
Gertrud's letter first:
' Meet me by the birdbath in the horse dealer's garden at eight o'clock on Saturday evening. If you aren't there, I shall suffer the thorn of despair. A secret admirer. '
Joel wasn't sure about the ' thorn of despair '. He'd
stolen the phrase from
learning how to do that?
Nevertheless, he had made up his mind to be cautious.
He opened the door quietly, bowed a greeting to Miss
Arvidson and took off his dirty boots. Then he went over
to the shelves and selected a few religious books. He
carried them over to the issue desk.
Miss Arvidson examined the titles and nodded in
approval. And started stamping them.
Here we go.
'I'd like to borrow a book about how to write secret
letters,' Joel said.
Miss Arvidson looked at him in astonishment.
'Secret letters?'
'Love letters,' said Joel. 'Secret love letters.'
Miss Arvidson burst out laughing. It occurred to Joel
that he must be the first person in the whole world who
had heard Miss Arvidson laughing. Lots of disbelieving
faces peered out from among the bookshelves.
Miss Arvidson was howling with laughter.
She laughed so much that Joel started laughing as well.
That made her furious.
'That's the silliest thing I've ever heard,' she said. 'A
book about how to write secret letters! Of course there's
no such book.'
'Love letters,' said Joel. 'It's not me who wants it, it's
my dad.'
Involving Samuel was no problem, Joel had decided.
He never went near the library anyway.
'If your dad wants to write love letters, he'll have to
manage it on his own,' said Miss Arvidson. 'We have
love poems. But not love letters.'
'Maybe that would do,' said Joel.
Miss Arvidson eyed him up and down, then went to a
shelf and returned with two slim volumes.
'These are pretty love poems,' she said, and started
stamping the books. 'But next time he'll have to come
and borrow them himself.'
Joel cycled back home and put the potatoes on to boil.
Then he started reading the thin poetry collections.
They were mostly about roses and thorns. Tears and
desperate longing. The word 'desperation' came over
and over again.
That would have to do.
When he and Samuel had finished their dinner, he
would write the letters.
One letter from Gertrud to the Caviar Man. One letter
from the Caviar Man to Gertrud.
He had taken some sheets of letter-paper and some
envelopes from Samuel's room.
His big plan was ready.
But when he sat in bed after dinner, resting his letter-paper
on an atlas, it didn't seem so straightforward.
Where should their secret meeting take place?
There wasn't a single statue anywhere in the little
town. There wasn't really anywhere that could be called
a park. Besides, it had to be a place where Joel could
hide nearby and listen to what they said to each other.
He wandered through the whole town in his thoughts.
He kept stopping, but failed to find a suitable place.
The churchyard was too spooky after dark.
There were no lights on the football pitch. They
wouldn't even be able to find each other.
In the end, just as he was about to give up, he found
the solution.
Mr Under's, the horse dealer's, garden.
It was big, there were lots of trees, and Mr Under had
nothing against other people besides himself strolling
about in it. There was also a little birdbath, which was
the nearest to a statue you could find in this place.
In addition, Mr Under wasn't at home. Every autumn
he used to travel south in order to buy horses.
Joel could hide behind the woodshed. It was only a
few metres from there to the birdbath.
So that was that! They'd meet at eight o'clock on
Saturday evening.
So now he needed to write the two letters. To make
sure the handwriting was different, he wrote Gertrud's
letter with his right hand and the Caviar Man's with his
left. The one from the Caviar Man was hardest to write:
the letters kept wandering off in all directions and he got
cramp in his fingers. But eventually, they were done.
He read through what he had written.
Gertrud's letter first:
' Meet me by the birdbath in the horse dealer's garden at eight o'clock on Saturday evening. If you aren't there, I shall suffer the thorn of despair. A secret admirer. '
Joel wasn't sure about the ' thorn of despair '. He'd
stolen the phrase from
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