The Spring Tide Read Free Page A

in Midsommarkransen!’
    ‘But they were pissed out of their minds, and one of them was almost a midget.’
    ‘Well, in that case you’d have had to give me a hand, wouldn’t you?’
    Now Vera didn’t say a word. She bought a bundle of magazines ; Pärt bought his bundle, while Jelle could only afford five copies.
    They went out onto the street together and suddenly Pärt started to cry. He leaned against the rough façade and put a dirty hand up to his face. Jelle and Vera looked at him. They understood. He had been there and had seen it all and not been able to lift a finger.
    Now it was all coming flooding back.
    Vera gently put her arm around Pärt’s shoulders and bent his head down towards her shoulder. She knew how frail he was.
    His real name was Silon Karp and he was from Eskilstuna, the son of two Estonian refugees. But during a nocturnal heroin trip in an attic office on Brunnsgatan, he had caught sight of an old newspaper with a picture of the shy composer and been struck by the amazing likeness. Between Karp and Pärt. He saw his double, quite simply. And during the next fix he had slipped into his double, and two became one. He was Arvo Pärt. Since then, he had called himself Pärt too. And seeing as the companyhe kept couldn’t care less what people were really called, he became Pärt.
    Arvo Pärt.
    He had worked as a postman for many years and had delivered letters in Stockholm’s southern suburbs, but weak nerves and a craving for opiates had dragged him down into what was now his rootless existence. As a homeless magazine seller for
Situation Sthlm
.
    Now he stood here crying against One-eyed Vera’s shoulder, inconsolable, he cried because of what had happened to Benseman, because of how bloody awful everything was, all the violence. But most of all he cried because life was the way it was.
    Vera stroked his matted hair and looked up at Jelle, and Jelle looked down at his bundle of newspapers.
    Then he left.
    * * *
    Olivia turned in through the college gates at Sörentorp and parked her car immediately to the right. It stuck out a bit, among the dark grey saloon cars of various types. She had nothing against that. She glanced up at the sky and wondered whether she ought to put the roof up, but decided against it.
    ‘What if it starts raining?’
    Olivia turned around. Ulf Molin. A guy the same age as her, and in her class too. A guy who had a remarkable talent for always turning up in Olivia’s vicinity without her actually noticing. Now he had appeared behind her car. I wonder if he’ll follow me, she thought.
    ‘Well then I’d have to put the roof up.’
    ‘In the middle of a lesson?’
    This sort of totally meaningless conversation got on her nerves. She took her bag and started to walk off. Ulf followed her.
    ‘Have you seen this?’
    Ulf was by her side holding a swish tablet.
    ‘It’s that assault last night, the rough sleeper.’
    Olivia took a look and saw a bleeding Benseman being hit by several kicks to various parts of his body.
    ‘It’s posted on that same site again,’ said Ulf.
    ‘Trashkick?’
    ‘Yes.’
    They had discussed the site the previous day, at college; everyone had been very upset. One of the teachers had explained how the first film and a web link had been posted on 4chan.org, a site that was visited by millions of young people. The film and the site had been flagged pretty soon and removed, but a lot of people had already seen the link and so it spread. The link went to the trashkick.com site.
    ‘But can’t they close it down?’
    ‘It’s probably hosted by an obscure web hotel, not entirely easy for the police to track down and close.’
    The teacher had told them that.
    Ulf put away the tablet.
    ‘That’s the fourth film they’ve posted now… it’s so fucking sick.’
    ‘What, that they get beaten up, or that it’s out on the Net?’
    ‘Well… both of them.’
    ‘And which do you think is worse?’
    She knew that she shouldn’t start up a