You’re playing like kasparov himself göstagrönlund said when I took one of his pawns.

He was truly moved when I took a knight. Then the halfhour had gone. I hugged him and again he patted my head like a loving dad.

No one would remember him. An old boy without wife or children. A smallholding without anyone to inherit.

An untended grave.

There were many like him in the smalånger parish. People who existed only because one would mention them by name once in a while. People who were not seen and not thought of either. In 117the end they would be given a memorial service. Some of them like allanberg deserved their isolation but göstagrönlund did not. He had been one of the many young men who had stayed on to manage the home farm because someone had to.

I preferred tying fishing flies to going out with girls he answered when I asked him once why he had never married. I was shy if you see what I mean.

Didn’t you ever have anyone I asked and he shook his head. No. Yes. There was someone but back in those days it was out of the question. Other times now.

How do you mean I asked but I had embarrassed him. He adjusted the basket on his zimmer frame then tugged at one of his braces.

In the rear mirror I saw him wave from the veranda. Now on to margotjonsson birgittaasplund evertsandström evasandlund edlamarkström eskilsandström johannakronlund.

They all got their medicines and evening coffee and sandwiches. Then I drove to the bus station to collect katarina’s brother.

He really hadn’t changed much but I would never have recognised him now what with his shoulder bag and umbrella. We said nothing much on the way to his childhood home.

Someone had done the washing and bedmaking at ingelahansson’s. She lay on her bed looking peaceful with her wrinkled hands lightly clasped.

Stefan sat down on the chair by the bed and I left him alone. Lit a candle for the bedside table closed the kitchen door behind me and washed up her last lot of dirty crockery.

I thought of john while I tidied the kitchen. Our taciturn ways of being were comfortable. I could get away with not explaining myself. So could he. Despite the silence we seemed 118to know the answers. But as I did the kitchen in my yellow rubbergloves I used the time to think over what had happened during the last few months and there were things that still troubled and irked me.

Our jana is a comfortable soul to have around. Rarely says what she thinks. Doesn’t ask uncalledfor questions. Demands no answers. Sits in the kitchen eating what’s left on other people’s plates.

She was the one. She who comes when needed. I.