Missing

smile at the way he had brought her a bribe. He asked again, his head a little to the side.
    ‘Please, can I stay here tonight?’
    She shrugged.
    ‘I can’t stop you, I suppose. But what would your parents say to your sleeping rough?’
    ‘Never mind.’
    This worried her. Christ, he might have told his parents of his plans.
    ‘Do they know where you are?’
    Now he was looking at her with eyes that said how-thick-can-you-be.
    ‘Dad’s out driving his taxi all night and Mum’s away on some kind of course.’
    ‘Does anybody else know that you’re here?’
    He sighed.
    ‘You’re so fucking anxious. No, no one knows where I am.’
    Anxious? You’d be anxious too, if only you knew where your bit of harmless fun would get you. Boyo, you’re about to share a night in an attic with a wanted serial killer, probably a religious maniac.
    ‘Fine. No problem. You’re welcome.’
    He didn’t need to be asked twice, deciding quickly to spread out his sleeping mat on the platform in front of the great clock. She thought it better to be able to keep an eye on him and pulled her own mat to the other side of the chimney-shaft. He examined his handiwork with satisfaction and then sat down, looking at her expectantly.
    ‘Are you hungry? Would you like some of this stuff?’
    Couldn’t deny that. Baked beans had its limitations.
    ‘Sure, if you’ve got enough.’
    He tore open the bag and spread it out on the floor between them. Then he added ready-made potato salad, two cans of Coke and two bags of crisps.
    ‘Help yourself.’
    What a feast! She came and sat next to him. He seemed to be just as hungry as she was and they ate in silence. Each spare-rib was gnawed down to the bone before being put back in the bag next to the uneaten ribs. When the two piles were almost the same height, she was so full it seemed impossible to eat a thing more. She leaned back against the wall.
    He sounded surprised.
    ‘Are you done already? I bought double helpings.’
    ‘That’s nice of you. We’ll keep some for tomorrow.’
    His mouth was still full.
    ‘Maybe your stomach has shrunk. Seemingly it does if you don’t get much food.’
    Fascinating. Sounded true, too. He must have been used to eating his fill, because he immediately started on another spare-rib. By now, even his cheeks were smeared with oil.
    ‘Shit. Where do you go to wash?’
    Sibylla shrugged. ‘If you’re homeless you’ve got to get used to mess. Running water is sheer luxury.’
    He stared at his sticky hands. Then he looked at her hands. She held them up in front of him. Only her thumb and index finger on one hand had touched the food. He quickly licked his fingers and wiped them on the legs of his trousers. Then he looked around.
    ‘Right. Now what?’
    ‘Now what – what?’
    ‘I mean, you can’t just … like, sit here? What do you usually do?’
    Ah, the little person inside that almost fully-grown body is quite clueless.
    ‘What do you usually do? When you don’t hole up in attics and play at being homeless?’
    ‘Mess around with my computer, I suppose.’
    She nodded and drank some Coke.
    ‘Not so easy if you’ve got nowhere to stay.’
    He grinned.
    ‘Maybe ogling the telly’s the answer, then.’
    She went back to her corner and crawled into her sleeping bag, sticking her hands into her armpits to keep them warm. Then she turned her head to watch him.
    He was obviously bored. Already. Failing other distractions, he had started tidying up after their meal. The clock behind him showed ten minutes past six.
    When he had finished clearing up, he rolled out his sleeping bag and followed her example. It was a cheap model, which meant that he would be cold during the night. That was helpful. He might leave her alone after that.
    He was lying on his back with his hands under his head.
    ‘Why did you become homeless? Haven’t you ever lived any place?’
    She sighed.
    ‘I did live somewhere once.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Somewhere in Småland.’
    ‘Why did you leave?’
    ‘It’s a long story.’
    He turned his head and looked at her.
    ‘Go ahead, I’d like to hear it. It’s not as if, like, we’re in a hurry.’

T hey had supported her in the shower afterwards and then wheeled her across to the maternity ward. In four of the five beds in the room sat recently delivered mothers with their babies. They all greeted her pleasantly when she was placed in a bed next to the window, but she immediately rolled over on her side. The window