Stallo by Stefan Spjut Page B

they had forced him to play in Hybblet when he was a little boy. But he had always thought that it was just for their amusement, so he had not attached much importance to Ejvor’s instructions, and you could hardly say she or Börje had nagged him about it.
How could he have known it was so important?
That things would turn dangerous if there was no child for them to look at?
If anyone was to blame, then it was Ejvor and Börje, because they must have always known what could happen. This is all our fault, Börje had said. But perhaps he was referring only to himself and Ejvor, and not Seved and Signe?
He had just started breaking a third toothpick into pieces when he caught sight of Lennart outside the window. Stoopingand with his arms hanging heavily at his sides he came puffing through the door. He took a look around the restaurant and then turned his dark glasses in Seved’s direction. His lips were parted, revealing yellow teeth crowded together in his protruding lower jaw. He asked Seved if he was hungry.
Despite the fact that Seved had not eaten all day he shook his head – he didn’t know why, it was a reflex action and he regretted it immediately.
Lennart shuffled over to the till and ordered some food. Seved heard him clear his throat and speak in a low voice. When he returned to the table he had two bottles of lager with him. A bottle opener rattled against the table. Seved picked it up and opened both bottles.
He had never before reflected on why Lennart was unable to do certain things. Simple things. Ejvor had said that the skin on his left hand had rotted away with some rare and incurable skin disease. The sores wept continuously and without explanation. He wore the bag so his hand would not make a mess or become infected. And to stop people staring, presumably.
He sat himself down, resting his trapper hat on the table. He had a rugged, deeply lined face with drooping cheeks. His hair shone white and looked soft. He downed a mouthful of beer and looked out through the window. Two marker poles were sticking out of the ploughed-up ridge of snow on the opposite side of the street. One of them was leaning contemplatively. It was like a barrier that was in the process of being lowered. Someone had probably driven into it. Why had no one put it upright?
‘Börje said it was calm last night.’
‘Yes. Well, at least they didn’t come out.’
Lennart was silent for a moment before he said:
‘It’s going to get worse and worse.’
‘But why? What’s the reason?’
‘I’m sure you know.’
The gaze that could just about be made out behind the tinted glasses did not shift from his face.
‘Yes. I think it’s a child they’re after.’
A whiff of sweat hit him as Lennart shifted slightly in his seat.
‘Ten, twenty years can pass – you never really know. Up in Årrenjarka there’s no danger yet, even though Torsten’s kids are pretty big by now. But where you live, well, it’s already gone too far.’
‘I don’t know. Me and Signe …’
‘There’s no time left now for that kind of thing.’
That came as a relief. He even nodded. In that case he was prepared to do anything to put things right.
‘There’s only one thing we can do,’ Lennart said.
What did he mean? Seved looked up but couldn’t raise his eyes higher than the front pockets on Lennart’s shirt, with their small white plastic buttons.
The waiter arrived with two steaming pizzas that he set down on the table. They had been cut into sharp triangles containing pieces of pork, banana slices, peanuts and pools of buttery-yellow Béarnaise sauce. Pearls of fat bubbled up through the red-flecked mass of cheese. Had Lennart known he had been lying about not being hungry, or was he going to shovel down two pizzas all on his own?
‘Eat up,’ said the large man.
Seved grabbed hold of his knife and fork, bent over his pizza and cut off a piece, which he ate with his mouth open. It burned him but he didn’t care.
Lennart was in no hurry. He