‘Alone? What do you mean? We can’t stop therapy now we’ve started. It’s important. Important if we’re going to have a … future together.’
Elin hums distractedly. She’s closed the diary now, and there’s a picture on the screen in front of her; it’s from the garden they were working in, the blue door glowing in the middle of it. She drags the slider, making the colours even sharper.
‘Hello?’
Sam’s shout startles her.
‘Yeah, sorry. No, I can’t. Why do we have to make everything more stressful by talking about it now?’
‘Are you even listening?’
‘Yeah, I think so.’
‘You think so?’ Sam bellows this so loudly that she turns off the speakerphone function. She sees Joe squirming at his desk across the room, even though he’s wearing headphones. She holds the telephone to her ear and gets up.
‘You’re creating problems that don’t exist,’ she whispers. ‘If you need therapy you’ll have to go alone, it’s for the best.’
‘Oh, that’s what you think, is it? I’m better off alone. Good, now I know how you see the situation. Now I know.’
A silence, much too long.
‘Hello?’ Elin says at last, but gets no response.
Sam has hung up. She stands for a moment with her phone against her ear, as though she’s expecting to hear his voice again. Then she goes back to the desk and the image of the door that fills her screen.
It’s so similar, she’s astonished by the details, by the memories they awaken. The flaking paint, the streaks of black between the brushstrokes, the key. It’s Joe’s voice that rouses her from her thoughts. He’s standing at her side, nodding towards the staircase.
‘Come on, let’s go, didn’t you hear them arrive?’
Elin looks up in a daze.
‘Arrive? Who?’
‘Oh come on, now you’re scaring me.’
Elin turns her head discreetly and peers over the railing, down onto the studio floor. When she sees, and recognises, the actress who’s standing there, head to toe in black with dark sunglasses, she gets up so suddenly her chair flies backwards.
THEN
HEIVIDE, GOTLAND, 1979
They walked side by side along the main road, in the middle of the asphalt. It was quiet and deserted. Elin balanced on the centre line with her arms outstretched while Fredrik kicked at small stones, pretending they were balls on a football pitch. Now and then he passed to Elin, but she carried on her balancing game and let the stones pass her by. They were silent. They didn’t need words.
Suddenly a car came out of nowhere. It was Micke, driving fast, as per usual. When he caught sight of them he braked hard, sending gravel flying onto the verge, and rolled down the window.
‘Skipping school?’
Fredrik sighed.
‘No. There’s no school this afternoon.’
‘Hurry on home then, there’s plenty to do at the farm.’
Micke sped off and Fredrik threw a stone after the car, hard, smirking when it hit the back bumper.
‘Why did you do that?’ Elin grabbed his arm.
‘He’s an idiot. Everyone knows that.’
‘But he’s your papa!’
‘Yeah, so? Your papa’s an idiot too, isn’t he?’ said Fredrik, raising his eyebrows.
‘Maybe. But I wouldn’t throw stones at him. I’d be glad if he came home again. He has a kind side. Your papa must have one too?’
Fredrik rolled his eyes and walked on a little ahead of her.
‘Mama says we’re going to move soon,’ he said. ‘She can’t stand it any more.’
‘So they’re getting a divorce?’
‘I think so. They were arguing last night and I saw some forms on the kitchen table,’ Fredrik said, stopping again.
Elin put her hand on his shoulder.
‘You’re not going to move away from here, though? You’re going to stay in Heivide?’
‘Don’t worry. Me and Mama will probably live at Grandma and Grandad’s. It’s not far.’
They went back to walking in silence, Elin balancing along the middle of the road, Fredrik keeping closer to the ditch, where there was a constant supply of new stones at his feet.
When they came to the village, Elin stopped suddenly and dropped her backpack on the ground. She jumped lightly over the fence that surrounded Aina’s house and motioned to Fredrik to do the same, but he hesitated.
‘What if she knows it was us? The other night?’
Elin shook her head.
‘Don’t worry, it’s only Aina. She’ll have forgotten that, she’s so old and muddled. I need a new book for school.’
He jumped after her and they ran across the lawn. It was brown in patches from old moss. The thistles grew high and thick, like thorny statues. The purple blossoms had shrivelled to expose round grey seedpods. Fredrik grabbed some as he ran and let them go so they flew across the lawn. Elin took the steps in three great strides and knocked on the door.
There was a pause before anyone came to open the door, during which they heard rustling footsteps and someone puffing from the exertion.
‘Marianne? Gerd? Is that you?’ Aina called from inside.
Elin took hold of the handle and opened the door, and Aina lit up when she saw who was standing outside.
‘My goodness, what a rare treat. Here I was thinking it was Gerd with the food I couldn’t carry home from the shop,’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands delightedly. ‘No, a cup of coffee just won’t do, not now. I’ll have to get out the cordial and biscuits.’
Elin nodded as she took a step into the hall. The house smelled strongly of ammonia. Aina’s house dress was covered in stains and on her chin sprouted a few long grey hairs.
Bookcases, crammed with books, lined the walls in both the hallway and the lounge. Elin ran her hand along their spines; she had so many left to read. Aina always let her borrow books, as many as she wanted. And she always gave them biscuits.
‘Have you got any biscuits with nuts?’ Elin asked.
‘Well yes, I baked fresh ones yesterday. I know they’re your favourites. Come in, come in! Then we can play a game of Threes later, can’t we? You have time, don’t you? Gerd and Marianne are always in such a rush when they come over.’
Fredrik and Elin each sat down on a kitchen chair and waited while Aina mixed some elderflower cordial in a china jug with red roses on it and put some biscuits on a matching plate. She set it in front of them and they each grabbed a biscuit with eager hands. The chair creaked when Aina sat down with her whole weight. She took a pack of cards from the pocket of her dress and began to shuffle them carefully.
‘Mmm, these are the best biscuits in the world,’ Elin mumbled with her mouth full. She pulled out the nut that had been pressed into the middle and popped it into her pocket. Edvin loved hazelnuts, she’d give it to him when she got home.
Aina dealt the cards onto the table and they each took their pile. The kitchen was silent for some time, apart from the regular ticking of the cuckoo clock on the wall. On the hour and half hour, the little bird popped out and chirped.
Suddenly Fredrik stood up, looking panicked.
‘I have to run home now. I promised Papa. He’ll be mad at me.’
He ran out of the door with his jacket in his hand, one sleeve trailing after him. Elin and Aina stayed where they were. Aina shuffled and dealt, and they played on. The biscuits on the plate grew fewer and fewer; the nuts for Edvin, more and more.
Eventually Aina got up and picked up a book from the sideboard.
‘I finally found this one, you must read it,’ she said cheerfully, holding the book out to Elin. ‘But you have to be careful with it. I was given it by my mum when I was your age.’
The book had a worn, yellowing cover and the title was written in red block capitals. Above the title was a girl drawn in black and white, apart from her long hair, which glowed red in the same shade as the letters.
‘What’s it about?
’
‘A little lass, just like you. You remind me of her a bit, always so inquisitive.’
‘Inquisitive? What does that mean?’
Aina chuckled.
‘It means someone who asks a lot of questions, and gets along just fine by themselves.’
‘She doesn’t look very nice?’ Elin looked at the illustration doubtfully.
‘It’s probably the illustrator who wasn’t nice, because you’re going to like the girl, I’m sure of that.’
‘Can I take it to school as a reading book?
‘Yes, as long as you take care of it.’
Elin put the book in her jacket pocket, where there was just enough space for it. Aina poured a little milk onto the empty biscuit plate and walked laboriously with her to the door, then held the plate out to Elin.
‘Could you put this on the steps for me please? A little something for the littlest ones.’
‘But they don’t exist. Do they?’ Elin hesitated at the door.
‘The littlest ones? The imps and kelpies? We’d better hope they do.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Well, otherwise, who’s been eating the treats I put out? And who’s going to take care of me when I die, if they don’t exist?’
She winked. Elin, still unsure, stood there with the plate in her hand.
‘Do you always put food out for them? And do they always eat it all up?’ she asked, bending down to place the plate on the top step.
Aina nodded.
‘It might be the cats, have you thought of that?’ Elin asked.
‘Yes.’ Aina laughed, making a soft bubbling noise, as though the whole of her huge belly was full of liquid. She clutched her middle.
‘Get ye home now, little bug. Your mama will surely be wondering where you’ve got to. And start reading that tonight, then you’ll have something new to think about.’
Elin stopped in the kitchen doorway when she saw Marianne stubbing her cigarette out right on the pine tabletop, pushing it hard into the wooden surface until it crumpled and then flicking the butt into the sink. A new mark joined the other black spots on the worn pine. The lights were off, the kitchen full of shadows in the failing light. An almost empty glass with clear liquid in the bottom stood beside Marianne on the table. Elin backed away in fear of the rage she could sense, creeping towards the stairs instead, up to where her brothers would be, romping about, filling the house with life. But she didn’t creep quietly enough.
‘Come in. Come and let me look at you,’ Marianne called, slurring her words. Elin went and stood in the doorway with her head bowed.
‘Where’ve you been?’
‘We stopped at Aina’s a while, played cards with her. Gerd says she needs company. She’s alone all the time.’
Marianne nodded.
‘Will the biscuits you had there be enough for you?’
Elin nodded.
‘Mmm, I think so.’
‘Good. The boys can have a sandwich each, that’ll have to do for today.’
Marianne had a shiny red silk blouse on. Her hair was sprayed and the backcombed fringe lay like a bridge over the top of her forehead.
‘You look really nice,’ said Elin. ‘Why’ve you got make-up on?’
Marianne swept her hand over the table, over all the marks that formed a map of their life together: the anger behind every single burn mark, the joy behind every splash of paint, the scratches, the stain from hot coffee. The split from the knife that was suddenly there one day, plunged deep into the centre of the table.
In the hall the mousetrap snapped shut over yet another wood mouse seeking shelter from the wet weather and Elin jumped when she heard the spring flipping. There was no squeak to be heard this time. Sometimes they squeaked, poor little things.
‘Well, that’s that. One less for Crumble,’ Marianne said coldly, rising from her chair.
‘Are you expecting someone?’
‘Who would I be expecting?’
‘Micke, maybe. What are you doing with him? He’s Fredrik’s papa.’
‘Don’t stick your nose into things you don’t understand.’
‘Fredrik says they’re getting a divorce. His mama can’t take it any more.’
‘Does he, indeed?’
‘Is it your fault?’
Marianne shrugged, took a step towards the larder, then stumbled and stopped. Her upper body swayed slowly back and forth. She made a new attempt to get to the larder, taking two small steps and launching herself at the door handle. She tore at the things on the shelves, pulled out the round pack of crispbread and broke off two large pieces. Crumbs fell to the floor and Sunny rushed to lick them up. When Elin turned on the overhead light the harsh fluorescence showed that Marianne’s eyes were brimming with tears, her eyelashes clogged with black mascara that was running down and giving her panda eyes. Marianne quickly turned her face away and wiped them with her index finger. Elin came to stand close to her, so close she was nudging against her leg. They stood quietly side by side while Marianne scraped the butter knife against the hard pieces of crispbread. She dug in the depressions to get the butter out, spreading it as thinly as possible.
‘We’ll be fine on our own, Mama,’ Elin whispered.
The butter knife’s movements stopped.
‘I’ll have to get a job soon,’ said Marianne. ‘Anything will do.’
Elin took the knife out of her hand and went on spreading. Marianne opened the fridge and took out the cheese. Edvin and Erik came and wriggled in between their legs, filling the kitchen with questions, but Marianne didn’t answer any of them and Elin pushed them out of the way so they fought each other instead. Soon there were tears and screams. At last Marianne set the plates with the finished sandwiches down on the table, hard, and the slam silenced the children.
Marianne left the room without a word, shuffling unsteadily. Elin saw her let the beautiful silk blouse fall to the hall floor.
That was the last they saw of her that evening. Elin tucked Erik and Edvin into the same bed, then took the book she’d got from Aina and curled up under the covers. With the help of the thin beam of a torch she started her journey into the world of Green Gables.
‘Gerd! Gerd!’ Fredrik shouted.
Elin ran behind him, trying to keep up, but he was faster. Gerd came out through the glass door, shielding her eyes with her hand to see who was making such a racket. When she caught sight of them she walked down the steps and ran to meet them. Fredrik shouted her name again and again.
‘My dear children, what’s all this noise?’ She held out her arms and caught them both, held them tight. Elin sniffed and burrowed her head into Gerd’s warm body.
‘Aina, she …’
‘We went in …’
‘She didn’t open …’
‘She’s just lying there …’
‘Not moving …’
They fell silent. Tears were running down Elin’s cheeks and Fredrik was breathing hard. He pulled at Gerd’s arm to get her to come and she started running too, stumbling along. Elin and Fredrik ran past her, jumped nimbly over the fence and waited on the other side. When Gerd got there they took her hand and helped her over. Her breathing was ragged.
‘It’s quicker this way.’
‘Yeah, I guess you’re the ones running all over the place the whole time. Today we’re lucky you do,’ she said as she struggled to get the other leg over. Elin grabbed her hand and didn’t let go of it as they pushed through the high brown grass.
‘She’s on the kitchen floor.’ Fredrik stopped and sank down on the steps, burying his face in his knees. ‘I don’t want to see her again.’
Elin and Gerd went in without him, and Elin covered her eyes as Gerd leaned forward over the body. Her scream cut through the silence.
‘She’s dead!’
Then came the tears. Gerd was crying and wailing. Her throat clenched, she coughed and sobbed and gasped for breath. Reaching for the telephone that was on the hall table, Elin put her finge
r in the number nine hole, pulling the dial back again to make it turn faster. Then the zeros, four zeros. And then the voice on the other end.
‘Which service do you require?’
Elin had no words. Gerd rapidly backed away from Aina without taking her eyes off the body, took the receiver from Elin and cleared her throat loudly. The voice on the other end became impatient.
‘Hello, which service do you require?’
‘I think she’s dead, you probably don’t need to rush.’
Gerd gave the address and then let the receiver fall back into the cradle. Elin crept into her arms, and they stood and listened to the sirens from the main road come closer.
More neighbours turned up when they saw the police car and ambulance. They came from every direction and stood quietly, watching the stretcher as it was rolled out. The round body swelled out over the sides. A blanket covered the head but the bare feet sticking out were blue and swollen with thick, overgrown yellow toenails crusted with dirt.
Marianne had come too. She hugged Fredrik and Elin tightly and kissed their heads.
‘She baked the best biscuits in the world,’ Elin mumbled.
‘Which ones did you like best? When I was little I used to ask for the vanilla dreams.’
‘Did you go there too?’ Elin looked up at her in surprise.
‘Yeah, I went there when I was little, I remember we used to play Threes. And long before that, Gerd used to go there, when she was little. We’ve all eaten biscuits at Aina’s. Aina was our very own Cookie Monster.’
Elin smiled through her tears.
‘She was so cold. And now she’s blue too, just like the Cookie Monster.’ Her voice cracked.
Marianne pulled her closer.
‘That’s what happens after you die, you know. The body cools down when the soul flies away. Aina’s already somewhere else, it’s just the husk that’s left.’
‘She must have forgotten to put the plate out. That’s probably why.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The plate for the littlest ones,’ said Elin. ‘Maybe they got angry with her.’
‘She probably died yesterday. The imps and kelpies will take care of her now. They’ll be singing for her, beautiful songs that only the dead can hear. She’s always taken care of them, so now it’s her turn to be looked after.’
A Question Mark is Half a Heart Page 8
