Bobo, Amat’s best friend on the team and these days assistant coach under Zackell, was sitting at the front of the bus and heard nothing. It wasn’t his fault, he was no longer aware of what was said in the locker room, he was busy doing his job. He and Amat spent less and less time together off the ice, Amat didn’t know if that was his fault or Bobo’s, it just felt like they didn’t have anything in common anymore. But just before the game Bobo asked Amat if he was okay, and perhaps Amat could have told him the truth then, but instead he said: “Yeah. Fine.” Bobo smiled: “Okay… you just seemed angry. Tell me if there’s something. We’re counting on you today, superstar!” He didn’t mean any harm. Even so, Amat was furious.

  With one minute to go the teams were tied, and Beartown had a face-off in the offensive zone. Zackell called a time-out and gathered the team by the bench. Everyone was waiting for their coach’s tactical instructions, but instead she just looked at Amat and said: “What do you think?”

  He should have realized she was testing him, but he was too tired, too angry. So he said: “What do I think? About our tactics? Our tactics are that you give me the puck and get out of the way!”

  He turned his back on them before anyone had time to reply. They gave him the puck, he scored, no one celebrated with him. Not even Bobo.

  Zackell gathered the team after the game but Amat wasn’t there, he had gone up into the stands to Lev and went home in his car rather than on the bus. That was how he came to win a game and lose a locker room.

  * * *

  The train finally stops, and Maya stands up and helps the old man get his suitcase down again.” He slips his annual accounts into his briefcase, puts on his brown hat, and picks up his umbrella, then gives a slight bow. She laughs and bows back. They part on the platform and she doesn’t spare him another thought, but he thinks all the more about her.

  A woman in her early thirties is standing a short distance away in a thick jacket, with her woolly hat pulled down low over her forehead, the way only new arrivals do at this time of year. They wait until Maya is out of sight before hugging each other.

  “Hi Dad,” the woman says.

  “Hi Editor in Chief,” he chuckles, and bows.

  But she can hear the pride behind the sarcastic tone. When she was a child she always said she wanted to be a journalist like him, and he always grunted that he hadn’t spent his whole life working himself to death just so she could become something as uncivilized as that! But deep down obviously he loves the fact that she turned out like him rather than her mother.

  “Good journey?” she asks.

  “Why do you sound so worried?”

  He’s missed seeing that wrinkle on her forehead.

  “You know, Dad! Did you talk to the girl? Maya?”

  “The whole way,” he grunts happily.

  His daughter sighs deeply, two minutes together and she already has a dad-migraine.

  “And you didn’t tell her you were a journalist? You didn’t say what you’re doing up here?”

  “That would have been rather counterproductive,” he chuckles.

  “It’s not ethical, Dad, it could undermine the whole investigation…”

  He waves his umbrella dismissively and starts walking along the platform.

  “Ethical? Nonsense! She’s Peter Andersson’s daughter. You know what she said to me? ‘My dad’s the sort of man who never breaks any rules at all.’ That’s the perfect quote to start the entire series of articles with! What have I always told you, about how many thoughts people can have in their head at any one time?”

  “Stop it, Dad…,” she groans, but can’t help giggling.

  “How many?”

  “One. People can only have one thought in their head, Dad.”

  He nods so hard that his brown hat almost slips off his head. She bursts out laughing, because it’s so typical of him, always some tiny, stupid detail that marks him out from the crowd. When she was little he always wore a bow tie when everyone else was wearing a normal tie, always a pocket watch instead of a wristwatch, always going against the current somehow. He fixes his eyes on her:

  “Exactly. And the whole reason that Beartown Hockey has gotten away with financial crimes as long as it has is that people like Peter are regarded as above suspicion. Especially after what happened to his daughter! People can only follow one thought at a time, and right now Beartown Hockey is on the good, decent, honest side. It’s the Andersson family’s club, the club that had an openly homosexual player, the club with the biggest star from the poorest part of town, only discovered by hockey because his mother cleaned the ice rink. Have you READ that brochure you sent me? ‘It isn’t just easy to sponsor Beartown Hockey, it’s also the right thing to do!’ Seriously, have you ever heard anything so arrogant?”

  His daughter is taking deep, patient breaths.

  “Dad, listen: I’m grateful that you’re here. I really am. And I want the same thing you do, but we have to do this… well, you know… by the book. I have a source in the council who says that the politicians are seriously considering trying to merge Beartown and Hed Hockey now, and that would give them the chance to establish a whole new accounting process and bury all traces of embezzlement and corruption, but I need to do this properly, Dad. I don’t want to make it… personal.”

  He throws his arms out, making his stomach wobble beneath his checkered shirt. He’s at least twenty pounds heavier than when she last saw him. His beard is grayer, his smoker’s cough worse.

  “How can it not be personal? Beartown Hockey is using its politically correct image as a shield to guard against all scrutiny. After all, even your own reporters daren’t cross them!”

  The look in her eyes darkens, even after all these years it still surprises him how quickly that can happen.

  “They’re good journalists, Dad. But you don’t live here. You don’t know what it’s like. We’re not only going to be attacking the hockey club, but the whole of the local economy. People’s livelihoods.”

  He raises his head, suddenly more accommodating, and nods.

  “Okay, okay, you’re right, sorry.”

  “You just need to be a bit careful. And if we’re going to start by attacking Peter Andersson, you need to realize… and this is serious… that he isn’t just anyone around here. He has powerful friends. And… violent friends.”

  Her dad waves his umbrella:

  “There’s no point me being here if I’m going to be afraid, is there? If we’re going to uncover a scandal, we need a good story! And you know who’s a good story? Peter Andersson!”

  “Hmm, I’ve missed this, your lectures—” she says with a grin.

  He interrupts sharply:

  “Stop being ridiculous, you didn’t call me because I’m your dad, you called because you want to ruin these bastards’ lives, and no one’s better at that than me!”

  He looks so pleased with this last phrase that he forgets to put his umbrella on the ground as he walks and almost falls over. She catches him. Feels how old he is. Whispers:

  “You’ve been longing for this, haven’t you? Having an enemy again?”

  He scratches his beard.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  He used to be the star reporter at his paper, the journalist who brought down celebrities and politicians, the journalist the rich and powerful used to fear finding out was digging into their affairs. But that was a while ago now, the newspaper gives the heavy jobs to younger talents, he’s more of a mascot than a reporter these days.

  “This is going to be seriously hard, Dad.”

  “That’s how you know something’s worth doing, kid.”

  She hates being called that, but she’s missed hearing it.

  32 Hatred

  Johnny keeps his promise and is home in time for dinner, all Hannah and the children have to do is pretend that 10:30 is a normal time for dinner. They can see he is embarrassed, so they let him get away with it, because they can also see how hard he’s been working in the forest and how exhausted he is. The road between the towns is still a mess of trees and debris, but it’s finally clear enough for the hospital staff living in Beartown to get to work in Hed. Hannah stands on tiptoe in the kitchen and kisses her husband on the back of the neck.

  “Did you get the van?” she asks, and all the color drains from his cheeks.

  “I… damn… tomorrow! I’ll ask one of the guys to drive me there first thing, then I’ll come home and take the kids to training!”

  She doesn’t have the energy to fight about it.

  “Okay, let’s deal with that tomorrow. I’m just going to sort out the laundry, then I’ll organize dinner…,” she says, with her eyelids starting to droop.

  But Tess, the eldest child and super-big-sister, steps up and puts her arm around her mother and says:

  “Stop it, Mom. Go and have a hot bath. I’ll sort out the laundry, and Dad can do dinner.”

  Tess has already done the cleaning while her mom helped her brothers with their homework. Sometimes Hannah bursts out crying out of nowhere because she feels so guilty at how much responsibility their seventeen-year-old daughter has to take on. She suffers for being so organized—if you show you’re capable, you get even more to do, that’s the curse of being a smart girl.

  “Thanks darling, but I…,” Hannah starts to say.

  “This offer expires in five, four, three, two…,” Tess interrupts, and her mother laughs and kisses her hair.

  “Okay, okay, thanks! I’ll grab a quick shower!”

  Johnny stands at the stove and fries schnitzels, the boys’ favorite. Ture, seven years old, is delighted at being allowed to stay up so late after bedtime. Tess sets the table and puts herself at the end, not because she wants to sit there but because if Tobias and Ted get the chance to fight about who sits there, they will kill each other. Tobias might be fifteen and Ted only thirteen, but Ted is already almost as tall and as strong. He’s already better at hockey too, even if no one in the family acts like he is so as not to hurt Tobias’s feelings. That isn’t because of genes or talent, it’s just that Tobias isn’t a fanatic, he likes other things as well: girls and parties and computer games. The only thing Ted thinks about, to the exclusion of everything else, is hockey. If he doesn’t have a training session with the team, he either fires holes in the walls in the basement or practices his shots out on the driveway for hours at a time. Sometimes Tobias has to be forced to go to training, whereas it can be hard to drag Ted away. As soon as the lake freezes over he’ll be there every morning shoveling snow so he can play with his friends before school starts.

  “Is the road clear, Dad? Can we go to training tomorrow?” he asks eagerly now.

  “Yes, it’ll probably be okay,” his dad nods, tired but proud.

  Tobias can’t help moaning:

  “Do we really have to train in Beartown’s crappy rink?”

  Tess retorts:

  “Are you stupid or something? Have you seen the state of our rink? The entire roof has collapsed!”

  Johnny shoots her a grateful look, his daughter is taking on the role of sensible parent more often these days, letting him off the hook.

  “Don’t call your brother ‘stupid,’ ” he whispers.

  “Sorry. Toby, you’re a real bright spark!” his daughter declares.

  “What does that mean?” Tobias wonders suspiciously.

  His father’s laughter lasts until Ture suddenly exclaims from his chair:

  “We have to use the rink in Beartown because Hed’s rink is SHIT!”

  Tess hushes him, Ture looks surprised and insists: “That’s what Dad said!” Johnny rubs his receding hairline with his fingertips.

  “That… that isn’t what I meant. I was just a bit upset on the phone this morning.”

  That’s an understatement, all the children think, but—unexpectedly—Ted is the one who speaks up:

  “Our rink is actually shit. Beartown’s is a hundred times better. Did you know they have a preschool there? Just think how much more time on the ice they get than we do in Hed.”

  Johnny directs all his frustration at the frying pan, turning the schnitzels so hard that the butter splashes and burns him on the wrist without him even reacting. That’s all that counts in Ted’s world: time on the ice. Every year his team has to fight harder and harder to get it, with the other teams and the figure skaters and then the sessions for the general public that the council insists on squeezing in every weekend. So what’s going to happen now?

  “Someone ought to drop a bomb on the whole of fucking Beartown,” Tobias mutters in response.

  He’s two years older than Ted, old enough to meet guys from Beartown at parties now. Old enough to get into fights with them pretty often as well.

  “TOBY!” Tess yells, so her dad doesn’t have to.

  “What? Everyone hates us in Beartown. And we hate them. There’s no point lying.”

  “Stop it, Toby, we don’t hate anyone,” Johnny says halfheartedly.

  “You’ve said that yourself, Dad!”

  “Only when we… only in hockey… when the hockey teams play each other, it’s just something people say…,” Johnny says tentatively.

  “We PLAY on the hockey team, Dad!”

  Johnny has no response to that. The little bastard’s right.

  “Do you think we’ll see the A-team play tomorrow?” Ted interrupts, suddenly hopeful.

  “I don’t know if Hed’s A-team is going to…,” Johnny says, misunderstanding.

  “He means Beartown’s A-team. He wants to see Amat,” Tess clarifies cautiously.

  “Amat? He plays for the wrong team!” Johnny blurts out instinctively.

  “He’s going to play in the NHL!!!” Ted points out with the absolute certainty that only a thirteen-year-old can muster.

  Johnny ought to have kept quiet, he wishes Hannah wasn’t taking so long in the shower, because she’d have slapped his thigh before he giggled and said:

  “Amat? The NHL? He wasn’t even drafted! There was a hell of a lot of talk over in Beartown all last spring, it was obvious Amat was going to be the best player in the whole world! And what happened? Nothing! He came back home again and now apparently he’s ‘injured.’ Maybe he’s a bit overrated, just like the rest of Beartown?”

  He hates himself even as he says the words. Hannah says that hockey brings out the worst in him at times, but of course that isn’t true. It’s only Beartown Hockey that brings out the worst in him. Tobias chortles with laughter.

  “Shit, Amat’s just the worst!”

  “He’s going to play in the NHL! He’s better than anyone in Hed!” Ted mutters back defiantly.

  “Bloody hell, you’re in love with him,” Tobias grins, and a second later the fight is in full flow, right across the kitchen table, with Tess yelling and Ture cheering them on.

  Johnny lets go of the frying pan and rushes over to grab someone, anyone at all, from the chaos. Hannah hears them all the way up in the shower and thinks to herself how reasonable it is of Johnny to call her the “sensitive” one in the family. Sure.

  Downstairs in the kitchen Johnny yells:

  “STOP FIGHTING! For God’s sake, I’m trying to cook h—TOBY!!! Just stop it and apologize to your brother! Of course Ted isn’t in love with Amat! For goodness’ sake, he isn’t even…”

  Johnny stops himself and clears his throat when he feels his daughter’s disapproving glare. So he corrects himself a little clumsily:

  “I mean, IF he was, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that. But… he isn’t. Are you?”

  He looks at his daughter to see if he’s said the right thing. She rolls her eyes. It isn’t easy to say anything right these days, he thinks. So he takes a deep breath and says instead:

  “If you keep fighting you can’t play any computer games, Toby. And you won’t be allowed to go to training tomorrow, Ted!”

  That’s the only thing that works, they both calm down at once, especially Ted. Tess rolls her eyes again. Johnny wonders about telling a joke to get Ture to start laughing, because he’s the only person in the family who still appreciates Johnny’s jokes, but he doesn’t have time before Tess’s phone buzzes as a message arrives. Then another one. Soon Tobias’s is buzzing as well. In the end even Ted’s is buzzing. Johnny leans over Tess’s shoulder as she opens the picture that everyone in school is circulating online. It shows the Beartown town sign over on the forest road, right on the boundary with Hed, someone has been out and draped it with green scarves. Beneath it is a large sheet of tin with a spray-painted message: “OUR RINK IS OUR RINK!!! GO HOME, BITCHES!!!”

  * * *

  Tomorrow all of Hed’s youth teams will have to pass that way, the youngest of them Ture’s age, and those are the words that will welcome them. Tess deletes the picture. Johnny doesn’t say a word, but he’s thinking how much he’d like to call one of the reporters at the local paper who are always writing about lovely, cuddly Beartown Hockey and their lovely, cuddly “values system” these days, and ask them if this is what they mean. He dishes up dinner with his jaw clenched, then sits down at the table. They eat in silence until Tess tries to get Tobias to put his phone down with a series of pointed gestures. He obeys, but not without grunting:

  “Do you believe me now, then? What did I say? They hate us!”

  * * *

  No one protests this time.