Юхан Теорин - The Asylum

Jan watches the falling snow through the window, but with none of the excitement he used to feel when he was little. These days the winter weather just means even more layers of clothes on the children: vests, woolly socks, snowsuits and hats with ear flaps — it takes longer and longer to get them outside. They end up looking like little barrels, or little fabric robots lumbering across the playground.

He helps them get ready and goes out. Andreas and Marie-Louise are still working as a team, joking and laughing behind him. Hanna and Lilian are already outside, and have stopped for a cigarette break. They are not laughing; they are whispering, their heads close together.

Marie-Louise and Andreas. Hanna and Lilian.

Jan feels excluded from both pairings, so he turns his attention to the children as usual.

‘Look at me!’ they shout. ‘Look at me!’

The children want to show how clever they are, playing on the swings and jumping around and building fragile sandcastles in the middle of the sandy, snowy slush. Jan helps them, but glances over at Lilian and Hanna from time to time, wishing he could hear what they are talking about.

When Marie-Louise comes outside the conversation stops, cigarettes are stubbed out and Lilian and Hanna help to gather the children together. But Jan sees them exchanging looks as they go back inside, like conspirators.

Marie-Louise doesn’t appear to notice anything; she stands on the steps with Jan, smiling at the children as they stomp back indoors. ‘They’re so good,’ she says.

Then she looks over at the wall surrounding the hospital and stops smiling. ‘Were you ever afraid when you were little, Jan?’

He shakes his head. Not when he was little. He was never afraid, not even of the atomic bomb, until he met the Gang of Four. ‘What about you?’ he asks.

Marie-Louise also shakes her head. ‘I lived in a small town when I was little, and nobody bothered to lock their doors,’ she says. ‘There were no burglars or muggers in those days... no dangerous criminals at all. Well, nobody talked about them, anyway. But there was an asylum in the middle of the town, and the mad people were allowed out sometimes... They wore strange clothes, so you could always tell where they came from. They looked nice, and I thought it was fun to say hello to them on the bus; they were always so pleased to have someone to talk to. Everyone else used to sit there, stiff as pokers, staring straight in front of them when some confused old soul got on, but I thought they were nice.’ She looks at Jan and adds, ‘So I used to say hello, and the old men would cheerfully say hello back.’

‘That’s nice,’ Jan says.

Marie-Louise gazes over at the high wall again, and almost seems to be talking to herself. ‘But such terrible things happen these days... There are such dangerous people in the world.’

‘Or we’re just more frightened,’ Jan says.

But Marie-Louise gives no indication that she has heard him.

That evening Jan makes another attempt to contact Rami. He pretends to set off home in the darkness at the end of the working day, but kills time walking around the nearby residential area instead, waiting for things to quieten down around the hospital. Then he goes up to the big rock above the stream. He puts down his rucksack, takes out the Angel and switches it on, keeping his eyes fixed on the hospital.

Fourth floor, seventh from the right. There is a light on, but no sign of anyone behind the bars.

Jan tries to make contact anyway. ‘Squirrel?’ he says quietly.

Nothing happens. The light stays on.

Jan speaks into the microphone several times, but there is no response. If Rami isn’t there, or if she’s asleep, then why is the light on? Is it always on?

In the end he switches off the Angel and makes his way back down the slope. He feels like a failure, rejected by everyone this Thursday evening. Perhaps not quite everyone — the children still like him, but if he plays with them too much, it looks odd.

Jan doesn’t want to look odd. That would attract Marie-Louise’s attention, just as Lilian has done.

He thinks about the quiet conversations between Hanna and Lilian over the past week, whispering voices that fell silent as soon as he walked into the room.

He heads back towards the town, but he isn’t going home. He is going round to Lilian’s tonight, to talk about Ivan Rössel.

Jan rings the doorbell and waits. He listens. He can hear the sound of voices inside Lilian’s house, but it could well be the murmur of a television.

It is Lilian’s older brother who opens the door. Jan doesn’t know his name. The man greets him with a nod and calls over his shoulder, ‘Minty?’

The television is turned down. Lilian’s voice says something incomprehensible, and her brother continues: ‘Your little friend is here.’

He turns and leaves the house without looking at Jan again.

‘You’re called Minty?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Why?’

Lilian shrugs her shoulders. ‘I eat a lot of mints. To keep my breath fresh.’

Her voice is lifeless, but at least she isn’t drunk. She has led Jan into the kitchen, and opens the fridge. He can see green bottles inside, but Lilian takes out a carton of milk.

‘Hot chocolate?’

‘Yes, please.’

She puts a pan of milk on the stove, and Jan sits down at the kitchen table. Party-Lilian from Bill’s Bar is nowhere to be seen; she looks more exhausted than ever as she sits down and hands him a full mug.

‘So Hanna’s told you about Ivan Rössel,’ she says.

‘Yes.’

‘And she’s told you he’s in St Psycho’s?’

Jan nods. ‘I’ve read a bit about him too.’

‘Of course you have — he’s a celebrity.’ Lilian sighs. ‘But the victims never become famous... No one wants to talk to a person who just cries all the time, I expect that’s why. So we withdraw and grieve, while the murderers turn into stars.’

Jan says nothing, but she goes on: ‘Have you spoken to Marie-Louise about this?’

‘No... only to Hanna.’

‘Good.’ Lilian seems to relax, and picks up her mug. ‘That’s good... Marie-Louise would inform the hospital immediately if she knew what was going on.’

Silence descends on the little kitchen.

‘And what is going on?’ Jan asks.

Lilian appears to be considering what to tell him. ‘A meeting,’ she says eventually. ‘We’re going to have a meeting with Rössel. Hanna has arranged it, along with one of the security guards at the hospital.’

‘A meeting about what?’

‘We want answers. We want to persuade Rössel to start talking. About John Daniel.’

‘Your brother,’ Jan says quietly.

Lilian frowns sadly. ‘He went missing.’

‘I know... I read about John Daniel too.’

She sighs again. ‘We want to know why it happened,’ she says, staring down at the kitchen table. ‘But there are no answers. Everything is just... darkness. And you think you must be dreaming — I felt like that for months six years ago, when John Daniel first disappeared. And then when I realized that I was awake and he was still gone, I thought I’d get over it, but you don’t get over it, it just gnaws away at you the whole time... And it’s worse for my dad. He believes that John Daniel is still alive. He sits there waiting by the phone, every single day.’

Jan listens and lets her talk; he feels like a psychologist. Like Tony. ‘But Rössel hasn’t admitted anything, has he?’ he prompts.

Lilian shakes her head. ‘Rössel is a psychopath. He lacks the capacity to feel guilt, so he admits nothing. He tells half-truths, then retracts them. The only thing he wants is attention... It’s like a game to him.’