just dog owners.
The buses into the town centre don’t run at this late hour, but the night air is fresh and he enjoys the walk. It’s only fifteen minutes to his apartment block; when he gets there, most of the windows are in darkness.
My home
, he thinks, but of course it doesn’t really feel like home. That will take a long time.
Then he notices someone smoking a pipe on the balcony two floors below his own. It’s the white-haired man from the laundry room, the one who was (possibly) carrying a scruffy laundry bag from St Psycho’s. The man sucks on his pipe and blows big white clouds into the darkness; he seems lost in thought.
Jan stops and raises his hand. ‘Evening.’
The man nods and coughs out another cloud of smoke. ‘Evening.’
Jan heads inside; he pauses on the second floor and sees that the sign on the right-hand door says V. LEGÉN.
Aha. So at least he knows the name of the pipe-smoker now, and which apartment he lives in.
He carries on up the stairs to the darkness of his own apartment, but he doesn’t stay in. He quickly drops off his rucksack containing the picture books, changes his jacket and goes out again.
He’s just going down to Bill’s Bar for a little while. Perhaps he’ll try to become a regular there – that’s something Jan has never been before, not anywhere.
14
‘CHEERS!’ SHOUTS LILIAN, raising her glass.
‘Cheers,’ Jan says quietly.
‘Cheers,’ says Hanna, even more quietly.
Lilian drinks the most, knocking back half the contents of her glass. ‘Do you like Bill’s Bar, Jan?’ she asks.
‘I do, yes.’
‘What do you like about it?’
‘Er … the music.’
They are talking loudly, almost the way they do to the children at the pre-school, in order to be heard above the house band. The Bohemos are made up of four youngish men in scruffy leather jackets, standing on a small raised stage. The singer’s hair is pulled back in a blond ponytail, and he delivers rock songs in a hoarse baritone. The stage is cramped, but the band manage a few simple dance steps with their guitars from time to time without bumping into one another. Even though the people in the bar chat away through most of the music, they are still generous enough to give the Bohemos a brief round of applause when each number comes to an end.
Jan prefers Rami’s whispering songs about loneliness and longing, but he still claps politely.
He raises his glass. The beer he is drinking tonight is stronger, and the alcohol has gone straight to his head like a rocket. His mind is floating free.
Right now it would be brilliant to be a regular here, but Jan doesn’t have much of a talent for finding friends in pubs. He realized this earlier in the evening when he pushed his way to the bar without making eye contact with a single person. He finds it difficult to relax in the company of adults; it’s much easier with children.
At least he got a friendly nod from the bartender when he went up for his second beer, and now his colleagues from work have joined him at his table. They just turned up and sat down: Hanna with her blue eyes, Lilian with her red hair.
Lilian empties her third glass and leans across the table. ‘Did you come here on your own, Jan?’
He thinks about quoting Rami –
I am a lost soul in a desert of ice
– but instead he merely smiles. Mysteriously, he hopes.
‘Oops, empty again.’ Lilian gestures in the direction of the bar. ‘Keep my seat, I’m just going for another.’
Jan and Hanna’s glasses are still half full, but when Lilian comes back she has bought them another drink too. ‘The next round’s on you!’
Jan doesn’t want to drink another drop, but he accepts the glass anyway. They carry on chatting, first of all about the Bohemos; according to Lilian they are definitely the best band in town, even if hardly anyone outside Bill’s Bar has heard of them.
‘They only play at Bill’s as a hobby,’ she says. ‘They’ve got other jobs.’
‘They
The buses into the town centre don’t run at this late hour, but the night air is fresh and he enjoys the walk. It’s only fifteen minutes to his apartment block; when he gets there, most of the windows are in darkness.
My home
, he thinks, but of course it doesn’t really feel like home. That will take a long time.
Then he notices someone smoking a pipe on the balcony two floors below his own. It’s the white-haired man from the laundry room, the one who was (possibly) carrying a scruffy laundry bag from St Psycho’s. The man sucks on his pipe and blows big white clouds into the darkness; he seems lost in thought.
Jan stops and raises his hand. ‘Evening.’
The man nods and coughs out another cloud of smoke. ‘Evening.’
Jan heads inside; he pauses on the second floor and sees that the sign on the right-hand door says V. LEGÉN.
Aha. So at least he knows the name of the pipe-smoker now, and which apartment he lives in.
He carries on up the stairs to the darkness of his own apartment, but he doesn’t stay in. He quickly drops off his rucksack containing the picture books, changes his jacket and goes out again.
He’s just going down to Bill’s Bar for a little while. Perhaps he’ll try to become a regular there – that’s something Jan has never been before, not anywhere.
14
‘CHEERS!’ SHOUTS LILIAN, raising her glass.
‘Cheers,’ Jan says quietly.
‘Cheers,’ says Hanna, even more quietly.
Lilian drinks the most, knocking back half the contents of her glass. ‘Do you like Bill’s Bar, Jan?’ she asks.
‘I do, yes.’
‘What do you like about it?’
‘Er … the music.’
They are talking loudly, almost the way they do to the children at the pre-school, in order to be heard above the house band. The Bohemos are made up of four youngish men in scruffy leather jackets, standing on a small raised stage. The singer’s hair is pulled back in a blond ponytail, and he delivers rock songs in a hoarse baritone. The stage is cramped, but the band manage a few simple dance steps with their guitars from time to time without bumping into one another. Even though the people in the bar chat away through most of the music, they are still generous enough to give the Bohemos a brief round of applause when each number comes to an end.
Jan prefers Rami’s whispering songs about loneliness and longing, but he still claps politely.
He raises his glass. The beer he is drinking tonight is stronger, and the alcohol has gone straight to his head like a rocket. His mind is floating free.
Right now it would be brilliant to be a regular here, but Jan doesn’t have much of a talent for finding friends in pubs. He realized this earlier in the evening when he pushed his way to the bar without making eye contact with a single person. He finds it difficult to relax in the company of adults; it’s much easier with children.
At least he got a friendly nod from the bartender when he went up for his second beer, and now his colleagues from work have joined him at his table. They just turned up and sat down: Hanna with her blue eyes, Lilian with her red hair.
Lilian empties her third glass and leans across the table. ‘Did you come here on your own, Jan?’
He thinks about quoting Rami –
I am a lost soul in a desert of ice
– but instead he merely smiles. Mysteriously, he hopes.
‘Oops, empty again.’ Lilian gestures in the direction of the bar. ‘Keep my seat, I’m just going for another.’
Jan and Hanna’s glasses are still half full, but when Lilian comes back she has bought them another drink too. ‘The next round’s on you!’
Jan doesn’t want to drink another drop, but he accepts the glass anyway. They carry on chatting, first of all about the Bohemos; according to Lilian they are definitely the best band in town, even if hardly anyone outside Bill’s Bar has heard of them.
‘They only play at Bill’s as a hobby,’ she says. ‘They’ve got other jobs.’
‘They
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