Ake_Edwardson - Chief Inspector Erik Winter, Frozen Tracks

One of the children jumped down from the climbingframe into the sandpit below, and he laughed out loud,suddenly, briefly. It looked like good fun. He wanted tojoin in, but that would mean getting out of his car,walking round the fence and in through the gate, andclimbing up the frame, which was red and yellow.

A drop of rain fell on the window, then another. Helooked up and could see the sky was darker now.He turned his attention back to the playground and thetrees beyond it and along the left-hand side. There wereno leaves on the branches, the trees were naked. Thingsyou couldn't see in the summer were visible now. Thecity was naked. That thought had struck him as hedrove there through the wet streets. This city is nakedagain. He didn't like it. It was almost worse than before.

Now another child jumped down. He could hear theboy laughing as he lay in the sand, he could hear thateven when the radio was on, as it was now. He wasn'tlistening to it. He was listening to the boy's laughter.He was laughing himself now. He wasn't happy, but hewas laughing because, hearing the child laughing, itsounded so much fun to be a child getting up to climbthe frame and jump down once more.

It stopped raining even before it had really started.He wound the window down a bit more. There was asmell of autumn turning into winter. Nothing else smelledlike it. Leaves lay on the ground and had turned black.People were walking along paths through the park. Somewere pushing prams. A few people were standing aroundin the playground, grown-ups. There weren't many ofthem. But lots of children, and many of them werelaughing.

He had also laughed, not now, but when he was achild. He could remember laughing once when his mumhad lifted him up high and his head had caught theceiling lamp and there had been a light up there thathad gone out when she put him down again.

Somebody said something on the radio. He didn'thear what, as he was still in a land where he was asmall boy who'd come down to the ground again andhis mum had said something that he could no longerremember; he couldn't remember any of it, but she hadsaid something and afterwards he had spent a long timethinking about what she had said, how important it wasto him, those last words she had said to him beforewalking out of the door, never to come back.

She never, ever came back.

He could feel his cheek was wet, like the windscreenwould have been if it had continued raining. He heardhimself saying something now but didn't know what itwas.

He looked back at the children.

He could see the room again. It was later but he wasstill a small boy; he sat looking out of the window andthere was rain on the window pane and he'd made adrawing of the trees outside that didn't have any leavesleft. His mum was standing beside the trees. If he drewa car, she was inside it. A horse, and she was riding it.A little child, and she was holding its hand. They werewalking on grass where red and yellow flowers weregrowing.

He drew the fields. He drew an ocean on the otherside of the fields.

Every night he made a bed for his mum. He had alittle sofa in his bedroom and he made her a bed onit, with a blanket and a pillow. If she suddenly appearedshe'd be able to sleep there. Just lie down without himneeding to get the bed things ready, it would be alldone.

Now he wound the window right down and took adeep breath. Wound it up again and started the engineand drove round the playground so that he could parkimmediately outside the entrance. He opened the door.There were several other cars around. He could hearthe children's voices now, as if they were actually insidehis car. As if they'd come to his car, to him.

There was music on the radio now, and that voicehe recognised came back and said something. It was avoice he'd heard several times. It spoke when he droveback from work at the end of the day. Sometimes hedrove at night.

He could feel how wet the ground was under his feet.He was standing beside his car but didn't know howhe'd got there. It was strange: he'd thought about theradio and then suddenly he'd been standing beside thecar.

Children's laughter again.

He was standing beside the playground that was nextto the trees that no longer had any leaves, only barebranches.

The video camera in his hand was hardly any biggerthan a cigarette packet. A little bit bigger, perhaps.Amazing what they could make nowadays. He couldhardly hear the faint hiss when he pressed the buttonand filmed what he could see.

He moved closer. There were children all around buthe couldn't see a single grown-up just then. Where wereall the grown-ups? The children couldn't manage ontheir own, they might get hurt when they jumped downfrom the red and yellow climbing frame or fell off theswings.

The climbing frame was right here, next to theentrance. He was standing by it.

A leap.

'Wheee!'

Laughter. He laughed again himself, jumped, no, buthe could have jumped. He helped the little boy to hisfeet. Up again, up, up! Lift him up to the sky!

He took it from his pocket and held it out. Lookwhat I've got here.

It was three paces to the entrance. Then four moreto the car. The boy's steps were shorter, six to theentrance and eight to the car.

Children, children everywhere; it struck him that hewas the only one who could see the boy now, keep aneye on him. The grown-ups were standing over therewith their coffee cups making steam in the air that wascold and damp, just like the ground.