I picked a few handfuls of wild raspberries and tramped on. The forest air was suffused with the scents of fir resin and bog myrtle. Aching nostalgia for what nature took intersected with my gratitude for what it gave. I was only a few hundred metres from the village road when I discovered the car. Once I had reached the top of the slope I saw there were two cars parked so as to be out of sight.

Someone was sitting in one of the cars. He didn’t look like a polish berrypicker and the thais always went about in groups in minibuses. When I came alongside the car he climbed out.

Janakippo he said. Fancy seeing you. It wasn’t yesterday.

Jakobstenvall. I hadn’t thought about him since I was a child. He was a few years older than us. His elongated body and protruding ears were unmistakable though.

What are you doing here I asked looking around. The cars seemed to be full of things.

I live here he said.

So you aren’t still living in the house in the new clearing I said. No you heard me right. I live here. And what about you he went on. They say you’ve come back home.

That’s right enough. For now at least. Later I’ll see.

What are you waiting to see he asked.

I thought of something to say. Like I had wanted very much to come back but wasn’t sure I’d stay. It was almost true. At least the last bit was.

So your staying or going has nothing to do with john.

Why should it have to do with john I replied. 162

Just a thought he said. Would you like a cup of coffee. It’s freshly brewed.

I said thanks that’d be nice out of sheer curiosity. And to avoid standing still any longer. We were too close both to the river and the hasa moorland. Guaranteed breeding grounds for mosquitoes and midges.

Jump in he said and pointed at the front seats. It was surprisingly cool inside the car. He handed me a mug of steaming hot brewed coffee.

Sorry I haven’t got any cake. Visitors are few and far between and I’m a diabetic.

Jakobstenvall had always been apart. He would say strange things when he was a child. Things that children didn’t say. He preferred to be with grownups. I couldn’t remember ever talking to or playing with him.

We sat in silence while we waited for the coffee to cool down. How long have you been living here I asked.

I suppose it is getting on for four years he said. Maybe even five.

It must get cold in the winter I said. And lonely.