Юхан Теорин - The Asylum

‘Thanks,’ says Jan, getting up from his seat. ‘I enjoyed it.’

‘You’ve played in bands before, I assume?’

‘Oh yes,’ Jan lies.

The room is silent among all the egg boxes. Rettig walks over and picks up his black case by the door. He looks at Jan. ‘Have you made a decision? About what we discussed yesterday?’

‘I have.’ He takes a moment. ‘It’s International Children’s Day today, October fourth,’ he says. ‘Did you know that, Lars?’

Rettig shakes his head and starts to dismantle the microphone stand. ‘Isn’t it cinnamon-bun day?’

‘That too,’ says Jan. After another brief pause he asks, ‘Have you got kids, Lars?’

‘Why?’

‘Spending time with children makes you wiser.’

‘Probably. But I haven’t got any kids, unfortunately,’ says Rettig. ‘I’ve got a girlfriend, but no kids. How about you?’

‘No. None of my own.’

‘Like I said... have you decided?’

‘One last question,’ says Jan. ‘What do you get out of this?’

Rettig hesitates. ‘Nothing, not directly.’

Jan looks at him. ‘And indirectly? ’

Rettig shrugs his shoulders. ‘Not much. We charge a small fee... a handling fee for delivery. Forty kronor per letter. But that’s not going to make us rich.’

‘And it’s just letters?’

Jan has asked this same question several times, of course, but Rettig is a patient man.

‘Absolutely, Jan. Just ordinary letters.’

‘OK, I’ll do it. I’ll give it a try, anyway.’

‘Excellent.’ Rettig quickly leans forward. ‘This is how it works. You get a package from me, and the next time you’re on the night shift you take it into the hospital through the basement. At night, as close to midnight as possible.’ He takes a sheet of paper out of his bag. ‘But only on certain nights... This is the schedule; it shows you when one of us is working.’

‘One of you... You and who else?’

Rettig lowers his voice. ‘Carl, our drummer. He does the same job as me. OK, so between eleven and midnight you take the lift up to the visitors’ room. Check that no one is in there before you open the door... but there won’t be. You hide the envelope under the sofa cushions, then you go back to the children. They’ll be asleep, I presume?’

Jan nods, thinking about the electronic Angels he has bought.

‘Any questions?’

‘Not about the delivery... But I would like to know more about the patients, as I said before.’

Rettig smiles wearily and puts his guitar in its case. ‘The carers are not allowed to talk about those they care for. You know that, don’t you?’

‘What do they do up there?’

‘Not much. They’re waiting, just like the rest of us. We’re all just waiting.’

Jan remains silent for a few seconds, then eventually he asks, ‘I was just wondering... Is there anyone up there called Alice Rami?’

Rettig shakes his head; he doesn’t even have to think about it. ‘No,’ he says. ‘There’s Anna and Alide, but no Alice.’

‘Anyone called Blanker, then?’

Rettig considers for a moment before answering. ‘There is a Blanker... Maria Blanker.’

Jan leans closer. ‘How old is she?’

‘Not very old.’

‘Thirty?’

‘Maybe, between thirty and thirty-five... But she’s pretty shy. She’s on one of the women’s wards, and she keeps herself to herself.’

The women’s wards , Jan thinks. So there’s more than one.

‘Does she have a child at the pre-school?’

Rettig is taking longer and longer to answer. ‘Maybe. I think she has the odd visit.’

‘From a child?’

Rettig nods. ‘A girl.’

‘Do you know her name?’

Rettig shrugs and looks at his watch. ‘I need to get home,’ he says, placing his bag on the table. ‘So, this business with the letters... When’s your next night shift, Jan?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Perfect.’

Rettig takes out a large white envelope, several centimetres thick. It is marked in red ink: S.P . ‘Can you deliver this?’

Jan takes the envelope and sees that it has been carefully sealed. He doesn’t try to open it, but weighs it in his hands.

It is soft. A bundle of letters — nothing else? It seems so; Jan can’t feel any hard objects or little bags of powder.

‘No problem.’ He smiles at Rettig, still trying to convince himself that this is a good idea.

Hanna Aronsson is working at the Dell the day after Jan’s practice session with the Bohemos, and she is just coming out of the children’s room when he walks into the cloakroom. She looks very tired, and quickly puts her finger to her lips when she sees him.

‘ Ssh ...’

Jan realizes that she has only just got the children off to sleep. He waves to her and goes into the staffroom, quickly placing his rucksack in his locker. The rucksack containing the envelope; his secret mission as a postman.

Then he joins Hanna in the kitchen; she is busy unloading the dishwasher.

‘Are they all fast asleep?’

‘I hope so.’ She sighs. ‘They’ve been a real handful tonight. Bad-tempered and bickering non-stop.’

‘Oh? How many of them are there?’

‘Three... Leo, Matilda and Mira, as usual.’

There is an awkward silence; this always happens when Jan is alone at work with Hanna. It’s easy to talk to the other staff at the Dell, but Hanna doesn’t say anything beyond what is absolutely necessary.

Although of course there is something Jan wants to discuss with her, and after a moment he takes a deep breath. ‘Hanna, what I said to you last week, when we were walking home...’

‘What?’

‘That I used to work at a nursery... and I lost one of the boys in the forest.’

She nods; he can see that she remembers.

‘Did you... did you mention it to anyone else?’

Hanna’s expression is blank, as usual. ‘No.’

‘Good,’ Jan says.

It looks as if Hanna is about to say something else, or ask a question, but instead she puts away the last of the dishes and closes the cupboard doors. ‘That’s me done for today, then.’

‘Fine. Do you have any plans for this evening?’

‘I don’t know... I might go to the gym.’

Jan could have guessed that Hanna was a gym bunny. She is slender but looks toned and fit. Not skinny like Rami.

Ten minutes later Hanna has gone home, and Jan has locked the outside door. Now he is alone in the Dell, and of course he has no TV or stereo — just the sound of all the rock songs he played with the Bohemos the previous evening echoing in his head. It was good fun; he wonders if Lars Rettig will invite him to play with the band again.

Maybe, if he carries off his task this evening.

The children are fast asleep, and there is nothing for Jan to do. It’s going to be a long wait until eleven o’clock. He sits in the kitchen with a book, but often gazes out into the darkness, towards the hospital.

When it is quarter to eleven at long last, he fetches the thick envelope and both Angels from his locker.

He feels slightly foolish, but he still puts on his cycling gloves and wipes the whole envelope with a duster to make sure he hasn’t left any fingerprints or strands of hair on it. Just in case Dr Högsmed finds it.

At five to eleven he switches on the Angel transmitter and hangs it in the children’s bedroom, then he opens the basement door with the key card. The other Angel is attached to his belt and he is carrying the envelope in his left hand as he walks down the stairs and along the corridor, past the animal pictures.

The lift is waiting for him; he steps inside and presses the button. The metal chamber shudders and begins to move upwards.