stood up and was staggering towards the door at
this moment. The old man remembered him; he had
been there the last time too. And today he had kept
his eyes on them the whole time. The door opened.
He waited. There was a break in the traffic and he
could hear that the man had come to a halt behind
him. Then it came.
‘Well now, is that him?’
The voice had that very special rasping quality
which only many years of heavy alcohol abuse,
smoking and insufficient sleep can produce.
‘Do I know you?’ the old man asked without
turning.
‘I reckon so, yes.’
The old man twisted his head round, studied him
for a brief moment and turned away again.
‘Can’t say that I recognise you.’
‘Jesus! You don’t recognise an old war
comrade?’
‘Which war?’
‘We fought for the same cause, you and I did.’
‘If you say so. What do you want?’
‘Eh?’ the drunk asked, with one hand behind his
ear. ‘I asked what you wanted,’ the old man
repeated, louder this time. ‘Ah, there’s wanting
and wanting. Nothing unusual about having a chat
with old acquaintances, is there? Especially
acquaintances you haven’t seen for a long time.
And especially people you thought were dead.’
The old man turned round.
‘Do I look dead?’
The man in the red Icelandic sweater stared at
him with eyes so bright blue they looked like
turquoise marbles. It would be impossible to guess
his age. Forty or eighty. But the old man knew
exactly how old the drunk was. If he concentrated,
he might even be able to remember his birthday.
During the war they had been very particular about
celebrating birthdays.
The drunk came a step closer. ‘No, you don’t
look dead. Sick, yes, but not dead.’
He stretched out an enormous, grimy hand and the
old man recognised the sweet stench of sweat,
urine and vomit.
‘What’s up? Don’t you want to shake an old
comrade’s hand?’ His voice sounded like a death
rattle.
The old man pressed the outstretched hand
fleetingly with his own gloved hand.
‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Now we’ve shaken hands. If
there’s nothing else you were wondering about, I’ll
be on my way.’
‘Ah, wondering, yes.’ The drunk rocked to and
fro as he tried to focus on the old man. ‘I was
wondering what a man like you was doing in a
hole like this. It’s not so strange wondering about
that, is it? He’s just got lost, I thought, the last time I saw you here. But you sat talking to that nasty
piece of work who goes round beating people up
with baseball bats. And you were sitting there
today too . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘I was thinking I would have to ask one of the
journalists who occasionally come here, you know.
If they know what a respectable man like you is
doing in such company. They know everything, you
know. And what they don’t know, they find out.
For example, how it can be that a man everyone
thought died during the war is alive again. They get
their information quick as fuck. Like that.’
He made a vain attempt at flicking his fingers.
‘And then it’s in the papers, you know.’
The old man sighed. ‘Is there perhaps something I
can help you with?’
‘Do I look like I need anything?’ The drunk
spread his arms and flashed a toothless grin.
‘I see,’ said the old man, taking stock around him.
‘Let’s walk a little. I don’t like spectators.’
‘Eh?’
‘I don’t like spectators.’
‘No, what do we want with them?’
The old man laid a hand lightly on the drunk’s
shoulder.
‘Let’s go in here.’
‘ Show me the way to go, comrade,’ the drunk
hummed hoarsely with a laugh.
They went through the archway next to Herbert’s
Pizza, where a row of large, grey, plastic wheelie
bins overflowing with rubbish blocked the view
from the street.
‘You haven’t already mentioned to anyone you’ve
seen me, have you?’
‘Are you mad? I thought I was seeing things at
first. A ghost in broad daylight. At Herbert’s!’ He
burst into a peal of laughter, but it quickly
developed into a wet, gurgling cough. He bent
forward and supported himself on the wall until the
cough subsided. Then he stood up and dried the
slime from the corners of his mouth. ‘No,
fortunately, otherwise they would have locked me
up.’
‘What do you think would be a fitting price for
your silence?’
‘Ah, a fitting price, hm, yes. I saw the ape take a