My God, he thought, she never saw Big Juha again. He’d died not long after. That would have been her last sight of him, scowling, refusing to say a word. Did she understand? And then Lauri’s father died too, and most of the others were scattered.
He was hot. It was the anger that had never gone away, burning in him. They’d taken Eeva, and he hadn’t been able to stop them.
He would have to imagine that it was Bobrikov behind those brass buttons. That would make it easier. You can’t kill a man without thinking of him as your enemy. When it comes to blood, political education isn’t enough. But there was no question of blood, of course there wasn’t. That was not Lauri’s role, Sasha had said so. Besides, maybe Sasha hadn’t meant any of it. The whole conversation was some elaborate kind of test. But why wasn’t Sasha here?
Suddenly the solution came to him. He would go and ask Magda if she’d seen him. Yes, that was the answer. Joyfully, he pulled on his boots and his heavy coat. It was quite likely that Magda knew something he didn’t. On a Sunday morning, the two women would be at home together.
While he’d been thinking and walking around the room, the sun had come up. What a morning it was – he couldn’t remember when he’d seen one more beautiful. Lauri pulled down the flaps of his rabbit-skin hat, and strode along the street in the centre of the moving white plumes of his own breath. The midwinter sun was low, clinging to the horizon like a child to its mother. It wouldn’t leave it today; no, not for weeks yet. Lauri smiled at his own thought. Yes, one day the sun would grow strong and brave and throw itself right up into the summer sky, leaving the horizon behind.
But he’d always loved the days of midwinter. You were free to love winter when you were young and strong and your blood kept you warm. The taste of frost in the air made his blood rise to meet it, beating hard.
The sun threw rich blue shadows where cleared snow was heaped at the street corners. There’d been another heavy fall in the night, and then it had frozen again. The dirty old heaps of snow were covered in glistening white. Just by looking at those heaps he could tell how thick the crust of ice was on that fresh snow. Nothing would melt today. The sun was too weak, the frost too strong.
But all the same, the snow had to be cleared. In front of one of the old wooden houses that they hadn’t managed to pull down yet, an old man was scratching at his steps with a twig broom. But he was so old, so feeble, that the broom barely dented the frozen crust of the snow.
Lauri stopped.
‘Here, give us that, Grandad, I’ll do it for you.’
The old man looked at Lauri. His eyes were faded and milky. Lauri wondered if he could see out of them at all.
‘I’ll sweep those steps for you,’ Lauri repeated more loudly.
Probably the old man was deaf as well as half blind. Suddenly he caught on, tottered down the steps, thrust the broom handle into Lauri’s hands, and crawled painfully back up to the top step, where he stood watching.
‘You go in and keep warm,’ Lauri shouted, beginning to sweep, but the old man shook his head. He thinks I’m going to make off with his broom, Lauri thought. Really, these old guys. I hope I never get like that. If he had a metal shovel, now, I could get these steps clear in a minute. But I don’t suppose the old man could even lift a metal shovel.
Energy surged through him. He’d soon show the old feller. Even with this miserable broom that looked as if half its bristles had dropped out.
Sparkling powder flew up from the snow and whirled around Lauri as he knocked the steps clear. He dashed the twig broom from side to side, giving the old wooden steps such a clear as they’d never had in their lives. There wouldn’t be a trace of snow left by the time he was finished.
‘You got some ashes, Grandad?’ he shouted.
The old face furrowed with suspicion.
‘Ashes! Ashes to put on the steps so you don’t slip!’
The old man’s face cleared. He wagged his head triumphantly.
‘Ah!’ he said in a voice that scratched exactly like his broom. ‘Ye’re after something! Ye’re after something! Soon as I saw ye, I knowed ye were after something.’
Lauri gave up. All right, fall down your steps if you want to, he thought. But he couldn’t get angry. The day was so beautiful and the old man was so absurd, waving his broom in triumph now that he had it back, as if he’d got the better of Lauri.
‘I know ye! I know ye!’ he chanted.
He, Lauri, was never going to get like that. No, he swore to God, if he ever felt himself going that way, he would take himself off and jump straight into the harbour with his boots on.
All right, all right, you’ve got your precious broom back. Go and lock it up safe.’
He still couldn’t help laughing. And suddenly the old man started to laugh too, even though the suspicious look was still on him.
‘Ye’re all right!’ he cackled. ‘Ye’re all right, I know ye!’
When Lauri got to the corner he turned and there was the old feller, still standing at the top of his steps, gripping the broom and jabbing it towards Lauri. But an old woman had come out too, a tiny old woman bundled in shawls, who didn’t even come up to the old man’s shoulder. She had her hand on his arm and she was looking up into his face, saying something to him. And he stopped waving the broom at Lauri, and looked down into the little face like a nut that didn’t come any higher than a child’s.
Well, the old man had someone to look after him, at least. He was luckier than he looked. For some reason Lauri felt his spirits soaring even higher. Even that old man, scrawny and miserable as he was, had someone to take care of him. But of course Lauri would never get like that. It was impossible to believe that the shrivelled little old woman, wrapped in her shawls, had ever been young and fresh like Eeva, or had ever stepped off a tram so easily and so carefully, into her own life.
He could brush a hundred flights of steps if he wanted. He could run from one end of Helsinki to the other if he had to. The frost was making his blood sparkle like that snow powder. Just think of having to creep along the cold streets like a crab, steadying yourself in case you tumble and break your bones. Or having to huddle over a stick and peer at everything before you can even make out what it is. No, it was impossible. It couldn’t happen to him, and it wasn’t going to happen. On a day like this you knew you’d live for ever. Or if not live, then die. Suddenly, without any pain and without ever growing old.
‘Eeva?’
‘Lauri!’
‘Is Magda at home?’
‘Magda?’
‘Yes. I mean, I only wanted – I wanted to ask her if she’d seen Sasha anywhere.’
‘Why, what’s happened to Sasha?’
‘I don’t know. Nobody seems to know. I haven’t see him since Thursday morning.’
‘Did he say where he was going?’
‘He didn’t say he was going anywhere.’
‘Well, Magda’s not here either. She won’t be back until tomorrow.’
‘Oh. It’s only you at home, then?’
‘I stayed in because I’ve got mending to do. I’m sorry you’re disappointed.’
‘Don’t be like that, Eeva! I only wanted to talk to Magda, because of Sasha.’
‘And now you only want to talk to me because you only wanted to talk to Magda, but only because of Sasha –’
She was smiling. Her face glowed with life as if she, too, had that sparkle of snow in her veins. Her eyes shone. He took a deep breath. She was too powerful. She was like the sun in summer, leaping far above him. But at the same time, surely…
‘Eevi!’ he said. The name her father called her.
She was silent, stilled.
‘You know I don’t come here because of Magda,’ he said.
‘No, I don’t know that,’ she answered very quietly. ‘You’ll have to tell me.’
Suddenly he knew it was all nonsense. She wasn’t the sun leaping in the sky. She wasn’t anything strange. She was mysterious, but she was also closer to him than
she’d ever been, even in those days when they’d slept together like puppies in the same bed.
‘I’m not sure I understand,’ she went on. ‘Tell me, Lauri, if you don’t come here because of Magda, then why do you come?’
She looked at him as if she were searching for something inside him. She was wearing an old grey dress, and she’d thrown a shawl of Magda’s around her shoulders. It was a Russian shawl, made of dark woollen stuff with crimson roses embroidered on it. The roses glowed and Eeva’s eyes shone green. Was she teasing him?
‘So, you don’t even know why you come here?’ she demanded, as he didn’t answer. She’d never talked to him like this before. Not as if he was her friend, not as if he was her brother or her comrade. Not as if he was Lauri at all, but as if he was a man.
But that was what he was. A man who’d come to her door, pretending to look for something else but really searching for her. She knew it now, yes, she did, she was sure of it. Her blood beat fast with it. He was looking for her, not for Magda or Sasha. But did he know it yet?
She took a quick, shallow breath. Her fingers were prickling. She couldn’t go on meeting Lauri almost every day but never going any further. Hello, Eeva. And then what? Then what, she thought, looking in his face and then away, quickly, as if the sight of him stung her. Is that all you can say? Is that all there’s going to be between us now? But it’s not right, not for us, we deserve more than that. If you make me close the door on you now I swear I’ll never open it again. You’ll have had your chance.
‘I know why I’ve come here,’ said Lauri.
‘You do?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then tell me.’
‘No. No, Eevi.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s not something you tell. You just…’ He put out his hand. He touched one of the crimson roses that blossomed on her shawl, and traced the outline of the petals with his fingers. He came to the stalk of the rose and the raised roughness of it travelled through his finger-ends and made him shiver. Her eyes held his and he saw the black pupils dilate until there was only a rim of green.
‘Magda’s away’ she said softly, barely moving her lips.
‘Maybe she’s gone with Sasha,’ he answered at random, touching another rose just where its embroidered petals brushed Eeva’s neck.
She shook her head. ‘No. Why should those two be together? They don’t even like each other. They’re not – they don’t –’
‘They don’t love each other as we do,’ he said, astonishing himself.
‘No,’ Eeva repeated, ‘they don’t love each other, as we do.’ She smiled, parting her lips so he saw the soft inside of her mouth.
‘Anyway, they aren’t here.’
‘Only you?’
‘Yes, only me.’
‘Can I come in?’
‘Yes, you can come in.’
The day had sunk into its winter gloom. He could barely see her any more. But he didn’t want more light. Her soft warm body was rucked round with the clothes they’d pushed away. He thought she was asleep.
‘Eeva?’
But she didn’t answer. Yes, she was deeply asleep. She trusted him. He’d never do anything to hurt her.
‘What if I have a baby?’ she’d asked.
‘You won’t – you won’t –’ he’d groaned. He’d die if she made him wait another second.
‘I could.’
‘You won’t – I’ll look after you –’
She was the last barrier, and then he was in her. He’d groaned again, because he didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know where he was any more.
‘You hurt me,’ said her voice, very quietly. So she wasn’t asleep.
‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘No. It’s not important.’ She sighed, rolled over. ‘I feel as if we aren’t anywhere, don’t you? As if all the walls have gone.’
‘You don’t want to worry about having a baby,’ he said. He felt rather than heard her spurt of laughter.
‘That’s a good one! What’ve we just done? Don’t you know how babies are made?’
‘Well,’ he said, thinking aloud, arguing with himself and her, ‘if a baby is made, that’s not the worst thing, is it? We’ve got no one else belonging to us. I’d look after you.’
‘What about Sasha?’
‘Sasha!’ he said in surprise. ‘What’s Sasha got to do with it?’
‘Try asking him,’ said Eeva, but her sharpness was engulfed in a yawn. ‘I’m so sleepy,’ she said, ‘I can barely feel my legs. I feel as if I’d lost myself. What day do you think it is?’
‘No, you didn’t lose yourself.’ She could hear him smiling in the dark. ‘Your self was just misplaced.’
She was surprised, almost shocked that Lauri would use such a word and so accurately.
‘So where was it misplaced?’
‘Wherever mine is.’
How had he learned to talk like that? In the past, she was the one who had the words, not him. As if he sensed her thoughts he said, ‘I’ve had a life since you went away, Eevi, you must know that. I’m not the same as I was –’
‘I don’t want to know everything,’ she said quickly, afraid he was going to start telling her about other girls.
‘All right then,’ he said, after a pause. ‘Maybe it’s best not.’
At once she was seized with curiosity for what he’d been going to tell her. But he was right. Best leave it now.
‘I wonder what became of Sasha?’ she went on dreamily. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want Sasha in bed with them.
‘Eevi,’ he said. ‘Eee-vi.’ She was coming closer to him. Her warm body was pressed against him, lightly and then more surely. He turned and caught hold of her. She had a way of seeming about to vanish, even when she was in his arms. So warm and fluid and soft, as if she could slip away. But she was solid enough. He could smell her skin and her hair. He kissed her neck.
‘Is it all right to do it again so quickly?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he muttered.
‘Nobody tells you about things like that, do they?’
‘Eevi!’ he said again. Her name filled his throat and there was no room for any more.
They could do anything. They only had themselves to think of. The day stretched itself into the night. A cold night, very cold. Even with the stove you could feel it. He heaped everything he could find on top of her, and brought her tea while he drank vodka.
They were lying quietly, side by side. One candle burned. Sometimes the flame dipped and shadow flew across the walls, then it straightened again. The curve of her cheek was as clear as a seashell, he thought. Those shells he picked up in autumn, after the first storms, when sky and water were the same iron grey. His mind kept jumping back to their childhood. The things they did, where they went. Things weren’t easy then, but he and Eeva were free. The world of talking and politics and action was above their heads. They knew about it and in a way they were part of it. They were the future their fathers worked for, but they were free of it.
That world which once felt so solid was gone. Eeva’s father, his father, the men who came and went, Big Juha, all of them dead or elsewhere.
Death came so quickly, and everything that you thought would last dissolved, just like that. Nothing lasted. Eeva was right, the walls had disappeared.
He wanted to run away with her and make a life where they would be together, safe. He would build a house in the forest for her, and work for her. At night they’d close the door. The thought of it was like an old song coming alive inside him, full of longing.
I build a house for my love
In the dark forest,
The deer come to our door
And the snow is our blanket.
But Sasha’s voice was in his head, too. Typical Finnish song, full of death and fatalism. I wouldn’t have expected it from you, Lauri. You’re a city boy, one of the workers, for fuck’s sake.
Don’t you realize that’s exactly how the system works? They hold up
a dream in front of you. Wife and the little ones and a roof over your head, your newspaper and your glass of vodka, as long as you’re a good boy, do as you’re told and accept what fate brings. Fate! That’s a good one.
But you only get the dream for as long as it suits them. And then they’ll kick you out of it. No job, no roof, and you’re on the street, in the snow you sing those lovely songs about. You’re nothing to them. You know that. A pair of hands with some skill in them. Part of the means of production. The dream’s there to keep you quiet until you’re not needed any more.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Eeva.
‘Nothing.’
‘You were like this.’ She clenched her body to show him.
‘It’s nothing. I was thinking about the future. Listen, Eevi. You know Sasha?’
‘I should think so,’ she said drily.
‘There are things you don’t know. Things he does.’
‘Nothing Sasha did would surprise me. If you told me he was an axe-murderer, I’d believe it.’
From his sudden stillness she knew she’d guessed right.
‘He’s a murderer.’
‘No! I mean –’
‘He’s killed someone.’
‘Not yet.’
‘Not yet?’
‘Listen, Eeva. It’s not what you think. There’s a reason for it.’
‘An informer?’
Did she remember? Had she been awake that night, when Eero and Big Juha took the man away?
‘No, it’s more serious.’ He found he was whispering, and cleared his throat. ‘It’s someone high up. Very high up. They’re planning a –’ He wanted to use the words Sasha had used. Political assassination. But somehow those two words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. ‘They’re planning to kill him,’ he said.
She didn’t say anything for a while. Then, ‘Why?’
House of Orphans Page 26
