guys from Malmö run their fingertips superstitiously over the mural of Zlatan Ibrahimovic´ before heading to the powder-coating workshop.
The study group head for the library instead. Joona is halfway through a course in horticulture, and Marko has finally got his GCSEs. His chin trembled when he said he was thinking of studying science.
This could have been yet another identical day in prison. But it won’t be for Joona, because his life is about to take an unexpected turn.
Joona sets the table in the visitors’ room with coffee cups and saucers, smooths the tablecloth that he’s spread out, and switches on the coffee-maker in the little kitchen.
When he hears keys rattling outside the door he stands up and feels his heart beat faster.
Valeria is wearing a navy-blue blouse with white polka dots, and black jeans. Her dark-brown hair is tied back and hangs in soft coils.
She comes in, stops in front of him and looks up.
The door closes and the lock clicks.
They stand and look at each other for a long time before whispering hello.
‘It still feels so strange every time I see you,’ Valeria says shyly.
She looks at Joona with sparkling eyes, taking in the slippers with the prison service logo, the grey-blue T-shirt with sand-coloured sleeves, the worn knees of the baggy trousers.
‘I can’t offer much,’ he says. ‘Just sandwich biscuits and coffee.’
‘Sandwich biscuits,’ she nods, and pulls her trousers up slightly before sitting down on one of the chairs.
‘They’re not bad,’ he says, and smiles in a way that makes the dimples in his cheeks deepen.
‘How can anyone be so cute?’
‘It’s just these clothes,’ Joona jokes.
‘Of course,’ she laughs.
‘Thanks for your letter. I got it yesterday,’ he says, sitting down on the other side of the table.
‘Sorry if I was a bit forward,’ she mumbles, and blushes.
Joona smiles, and she does the same as she looks down, before raising her eyes again.
‘Speaking of which, it’s a shame they turned down your application for leave,’ Valeria says, suppressing another smile in a way that makes her chin wrinkle.
‘I’ll try again in three months … I can always apply for re-acclimatisation leave,’ Joona says.
‘It’ll be OK,’ she nods, feeling for his hand across the table.
‘I spoke to Lumi yesterday,’ he goes on. ‘She’d just finished reading Crime and Punishment in French … It was good, we just talked about books, and I forgot I was here … until the line went dead.’
‘I don’t remember you talking this much before.’
‘If you spread it out over two weeks, it’s only a couple of words an hour.’
A lock of hair falls across her cheek and she tosses her head to move it. Her skin is like brass, and she has deep laugh-lines at the corners of her eyes. The thin skin beneath her eyes is grey, and she has traces of dirt under her short nails.
‘You used to be able to order pastries from a bakery outside,’ Joona says, pouring coffee.
‘I need to start thinking about my figure for when you get out,’ she replies, with one hand on her stomach.
‘You’re more beautiful than ever,’ Joona says.
‘You should have seen me yesterday,’ she laughs, her long fingers touching an enamel daisy hanging from a chain around her neck. ‘I was out at the open-air pool in Saltsjöbaden, crawling around in the rain preparing the beds.’
‘Yoshino cherry trees, right?’
‘I picked a variety with white flowers, thousands of them. They’re amazing … every year in May it looks like a snowstorm has hit just those little trees.’
Joona looks at the cups and the pale blue napkins. The light from outside is falling in broad stripes across the table.
‘How are your studies going?’ she asks.
‘It’s exciting.’
‘Does it feel weird to be training for something new?’ she asks, folding her napkin.
‘Yes, but in a good way.’
‘You’re still sure you don’t want to go back to police work?’
He nods and looks over towards the window. The dirty glass is visible between the horizontal bars. His chair creaks as he leans back, disappearing into the memory of his last night in Nattavaara.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asks in a serious voice.
‘Nothing,’ he replies quietly.
‘You’re thinking about Summa,’ she says simply.
‘No.’
‘Because of what I said about a snowstorm.’
He looks into her amber-coloured eyes and nods. She has the peculiar ability to almost read his mind.
‘There’s nothing as quiet as snow after the wind has dropped,’ he says. ‘You know … Lumi and I sat with her, holding her hands …’
Joona thinks back to the strange calmness that settled on his wife before she died, and the absolute silence that followed.
Valeria leans across the table and puts her hand to his cheek without saying anything. He can see the tattoo on her right shoulder through the thin fabric of her blouse.
‘We’re going to get through this – aren’t we?’ she asks quietly.
‘We’re going to get through this,’ he nods.
‘You’re not going to break my heart, are you, Joona?’
‘No.’
Joona feels a lingering joy after Valeria has left. It’s as if she brings him a small portion of life every time she visits.
He has almost no space in his cell, but if he stands between the desk and the sink he has just enough room to do some shadow-boxing and hone his military fighting techniques. He moves slowly and systematically, thinking of the endless flatlands in the Netherlands where he received his training.
Joona doesn’t know how long he’s been practising, but
