The Return of the Dancing Master(54)

Early on the morning of May 13, he drives on along the lochside and reaches his destination in the afternoon: the town of Dornoch, situated on a peninsula east of the Highlands. He checks into the Rosedale Hotel near the harbor, and notes in his diary that “the air here is different from that in Västergötland.” He doesn’t explain in what way it is different. Now he has reached Dornoch, it’s the middle of May 1972, and so far he has made no mention of why he’s here. Just that he will meet “M.” And he does in fact meet “M.” that same evening. “Long walk through the town with M.,” he writes. “Strong wind, but no rain.” He makes the same note for each of the next seven days. “Long walk through the town with M.” Nothing more. The only thing he finds worth remembering is that the weather changes. It seems always to be windy in Dornoch, but sometimes it’s “pouring down,” sometimes the weather is “threatening,” and just once, on Thursday, May 18, “the sun is shining” and it’s “rather warm.” A few days later he drives back the same way as he came. It is not clear whether it’s the same rental car, or whether he has dropped off the first one and rented another. On the other hand, when he comes to pay his bill at the Rosedale Hotel, he’s surprised that “it didn’t cost more.” After a few more days, having been forced to spend an extra twenty-four hours in Immingham due to “the ferry’s engine breaking down,” he returns to Göteborg and then Boras. By May 26 he’s back at work.

The passage about Scotland was a mysterious insertion in the middle of a diary with large time gaps. Sometimes several years pass without Molin applying pen to paper, usually a fountain pen, although occasionally he used a pencil to write his journal. The trip to Scotland, to the town of Dornoch, is an exception. He goes there to meet somebody called “M.” They go for walks. Always in the evening. It is not clear who “M.” is, nor what they talk about. They go for walks, that’s all. On one occasion, Wednesday, May 17, Molin allows himself to make one of the extremely few personal comments to be found in his diary. “Woke up this morning fully rested. Realize I should have made this journey years ago.” That’s all. “Woke up this morning fully rested.” It is a significant comment in many ways, because elsewhere in the diary there are many references to how difficult he finds it to sleep. But in Dornoch he sleeps soundly, and realizes he should have come here years ago.





It was afternoon by the time Lindman had read this far. When he found the package in the shed, his first thought was to take the diary to his hotel in Sveg. Then he changed his mind, and for the second time he entered Molin’s house by climbing in through the window. He brushed the jigsaw puzzle pieces to one side of the table in the living room and replaced them with the diary. He wanted to read it there, in the ruined house, with the spirit of Herbert Molin close at hand. He set out the three photographs beside the diary. Before opening it, he untied the red ribbon around the letters. There were nine of them. They were from Molin to his parents in Kalmar, dated between October 1942 and April 1945. All of them were written in Germany. Lindman decided to work his way through the diary first.

It started with notes from Oslo on June 3, 1942. Molin recorded the fact that he’d bought the diary in a stationery shop in Stortingsgatan, Oslo, with the intention of “noting down significant events in my life.”

He’d crossed the border into Norway to the west of Idre in northern Dalarna, on a road passing through Flotningen. The road had been recommended by a certain “Lieutenant W. from Stockholm whose job it is to ensure that those who wish to join the German army can find the way there through the mountains.” It was not explained how he traveled from the border to Oslo, but the fact is that he’s there now, it’s June 1942, he buys a notebook and starts to keep his diary.

Lindman paused at this point. It was 1942, and Molin was nineteen. In fact, his name at that time was August Mattson-Herzén. He started keeping his diary when he was passing through a life-changing phase. Nineteen years of age, and he decides to enlist in the German army. He wants to fight for Hitler. He’s left Kalmar, and one way or another he got in touch with a Lieutenant W. in Stockholm who has something to do with recruitment for the German military. But does young August go off to war with or without the blessing of his parents? What are his motives? Is he fighting Bolshevism? Or is he just a mercenary bent on adventure? It is not clear. All that emerges is that he is nineteen years of age and is in Oslo.