The Island Affair

by Helena Halme

  Frida follows Alicia's gaze. 'Yeah, nice to see the Russian Mafia boats every day.' Her tone has changed, and the smile has disappeared from her lips.

  'What do you mean?' Alicia asks. She gazes at the young woman who's wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of tight ripped jeans, revealing slices of the, almost luminous, white skin of her thighs. On her feet she wears a pair of black, heavy Dr Marten's, which look too hot for the warm summer weather. The temperature had already reached 20°C when Alicia left the sauna cottage that morning and got into the car with her mum.

  'Oh, nothing, it's a joke.' Frida is standing by the small kitchen area, her face turned away from Alicia. 'Would you like some coffee? I'm making a pot.'

  'Yes please.'

  While Frida fills the percolator with coffee from a packet she's retrieved from a cupboard above the sink, Alicia admires the scene of the harbor through the tall window. There are a couple of expensive-looking yachts among the many sailing boats.

  The East Harbor gets busier each day coming up to Midsummer, when the high season starts. At its peak, there will be no free spots on the jetties. The sailing club, Club Marin, which has a restaurant, saunas and restrooms for the yachties will be bustling with families. Alicia regrets that she didn't take Stefan sailing. Neither she nor Liam were particularly interested in boats, she thinks, as she watches Frida turn to look at the view. The coffee percolator has started dripping water loudly into the glass pot.

  'You don't like Russians?' Alicia asks.

  The girl whips her head around and her eyes are dark with hatred. 'They're bastards, every one of them.'

  Alicia is startled by the girl's hostility. Growing up on the islands, which are part of Finland, no one had liked Russians, or Soviet citizens, as they had been some twenty years ago. But there was never this kind of animosity toward the people themselves, only toward those in power. Like Putin, now rumored to own land on the islands.

  The girl's demeanor suddenly changes, and a grin returns to her face.

  'How do you take your coffee?'

  'Oh, black please,' Alicia says, still slightly shocked by the sudden changes in the young woman's mood.

  Frida places a mug on the tablecloth in front of Alicia and sits down opposite her. Alicia sees she has tattoos on the inside of her wrist.

  'That must have hurt,' she says, nodding to the small image of an angel carved onto the pale skin. It's obvious they need to change the subject.

  'Nah, not really,' Frida says, glancing inside her own arm. She lifts her eyes toward Alicia. 'It's in memory of someone very sweet. I believe he's an angel now.'

  Alicia stares back at Frida. How does she know that is exactly how Alicia thinks about her own son. Has Frida also lost someone dear to her? The question, 'Who?' hangs in the air, but for some reason Alicia is too afraid to ask.

  'Well, I'd better get back to work,' Alicia says instead, and gets up.

  'It was nice to meet you and thank you for the coffee,' she says over her shoulder to the girl, who is not looking at her, but staring out of the window. She doesn't reply and Alicia hesitates for a moment by the door. She cannot put her finger on it, but Alicia has a strange feeling that Frida was talking about Stefan, her Stefan, but surely that couldn't be? To stop the train of thought, Alicia throws another glance at the luxury Russian yachts. The East Harbor has more of them each year, flying their wide striped white, blue and red flags. But so what? All they do is bring tourist cash into the small economy, surely?

  Nineteen

  'Have you seen this?' Hilda has printed a sheet from her computer and is waving it in front of Alicia. She's sitting on her favorite stool in the corner of the kitchen, waiting for her mother. They're planning to cook dinner together and Hilda has been upstairs changing out of her work clothes. Alicia takes the piece of paper from her mother. Her heart skips a beat when she sees it's from Mia—Patrick's Mia.

  'Patrick is true to his word then,' she says, trying to sound nonchalant.

  'Of course he is!' Hilda snatches the paper out of Alicia's hands and turns toward the front door, where Uffe has just appeared.

  'Have you heard, Uffe, we're invited to the Eriksson's Midsummer party!'

  Uffe glances at Alicia and smiles, 'Well, aren't we going up in the world.'

  'Oh, my,' Hilda says, her eyes fixed on the piece of paper. 'It was sent on Saturday, that's three days ago and we haven't RSVP'd. That could be seen as rude, you know.'

  Alicia rolls her eyes at Hilda, 'Mum, how come you haven't seen the email before?'

  Hilda waves her hand over her freshly coiffured blond bob. 'Oh, I don't check my emails more than once a week, if that! It's usually all adverts or messages from people I don't like.'

  Alicia has to suppress a smile. She's about to ask how come she doesn't get her emails on her brand-new iPhone, but she doesn't want to get into a long conversation about how the internet does or doesn't work on Hilda's mobile. It's all organized a bit differently in Finland, and she's no expert herself. A few years ago she made the mistake of trying to configure Hilda's first smart phone and managed to delete her settings, so now she doesn't want to touch her mother's phones. Besides, it was always either Liam or Stefan who dealt with the technical things in the family. I guess I have to learn how to do those things now, Alicia thinks to herself.

  'So we are obviously all going, yes? I know we said we'd spend the evening here, but this is such an opportunity ...' Hilda says, looking at Uffe.

  Alicia looks at her mother. 'When is it?'

  'What?' Hilda is staring at her daughter. Even Uffe is looking at Alicia. He's standing by the kitchen island, with one of Hilda's cinnamon buns in his hand.

  'Don't eat that now,' Hilda snaps at Uffe and he puts the bun down on the kitchen counter. 'It's nearly dinner time!' Hilda gives her husband an angry stare, then turns back to Alicia.

  'Midsummer's Eve is this Friday, silly,' she almost shouts. You know, Eriksson's Midsummer parties are the talk of Mariehamn, of Åland! Anyone who's anyone will be there.'

  'Sorry, I was miles away. Of course we must go.' Alicia says and takes hold of the piece of paper again. 'Did you open the attachment? I bet there's an invite there with more information.'

  'Oh,' Hilda says and turns on her heels. Moments later she's back with another piece of paper. Alicia wonders why she didn’t just forward the email to her, but doesn't say anything. It's a stylish invite in black and white with images of dancing couples, champagne glasses and balloons bordering a text, 'Come and celebrate the magic of Midsummer with Family Eriksson'.

  The party starts with lunch at 1pm and goes on past midnight, or whenever people want to go home. What a long bash, Alicia thinks and wonders how she can get out of it. When she looks up and sees that her mother's eyes are sparkling, she realizes there's no chance. She will have to go. A faint tingling on her skin tells her she is excited at the prospect of seeing Patrick again too.

  'I've never been to the Eriksson's villa,' Hilda says, her voice breathless. ‘Of course, like everyone else, I've driven past hundreds of times. They have those heavy iron gates now, so you can't see into the drive or the vast shoreline they own anymore, but ...' she stops abruptly, and exclaims, 'Oh, what will we wear! We'll have to pick something out of my stock and everyone in Mariehamn will have seen it already!' Hilda is staring at her daughter, her eyes wide and with one of her hands splayed over her chest in a dramatic pose. Not this again, Alicia thinks, but then she remembers she hasn't got anything suitable either. As if she's read her mind, her mother comes over and puts her arm over Alicia's shoulders. 'Don't worry, I have just the dress for you.'

  * * *

  On the day of the party, the skies are clear and the sun beams down as Alicia makes her way from the sauna cottage to the main house. Uffe has offered to drive Hilda's freshly washed and polished BMW. Two of his farm hands have given the brand-new soft-top a thorough going over. For over two hours they washed and scrubbed every inch of the exterior and then polished the chassis and
the cream leather interior. The car looks brand-new.

  So that people won’t have to drink and drive, the Eriksson's have invited guests to park their cars overnight on their estate. Hilda is taking full advantage of the offer, and has ordered a taxi to take them home promptly at midnight. This, Alicia thinks, will give her mother another opportunity to make contact with the Eriksson's when they fetch the car the next day. She will be able to see the ‘summer place’ again. Don't be so mean and churlish, Alicia tells herself as she watches the streets of Mariehamn whizz past, full of revellers. The weather has brought everyone out to celebrate Midsummer on the islands.

  They drive with the roof up to save Hilda's hair-do. Alicia’s sense of being a teenager isn't helped by the fact that she is sitting on the back seat, almost doubled over in the small space, obviously not meant to be used by a fully grown person. Like a child being taken to an adult party, she'd rather be anywhere else right now. She wonders if she might be able to smuggle herself out before the twelve hours of merrymaking are over. She can't imagine she will have any fun among the Åland glitterati, most of whom will be the same age as her mother and Uffe. She brushes away thoughts of Patrick.

  Still, it will be interesting to see the ‘summer place’, as the invitation calls (with false modesty) what Alicia knows is a vast estate at the southern tip of the peninsula. She's met Mia's parents in passing before, but she has never really spoken to them, nor has she ever been invited to their home. Alicia knows that not only is Mia’s father a millionaire, but her mother is a famous author. That said, she is not a fan of her books, even though her works are celebrated all over Scandinavia and beyond and have been translated into several languages. To Alicia, Beatrice Eriksson's novels are too full of misery and death. She smiles when she recalls Liam’s remark after reading one of her books—'I'm surprised she didn't commit suicide while writing this story.' At the time Alicia was angry with Liam's flippant dismissal of one of the most important books that had come out of Finland in years. The story, which centers on the famine under the Russian rule in the 18th century, won prizes all over Europe. But she had to admit, after reading Frozen Hunger she didn't wish to know any of the writer's other books, however much she would have liked to support an author from Åland.

  Then there's Patrick. Alicia tries to brush away her stupid infatuation with the man. She knows she's being foolish, and that her feelings probably aren't reciprocated. Patrick is just being flirty; he's that kind of a man.

  And what about the other day when they were having lunch? Didn't you share a moment then?

  She tells herself to stop fantasizing about a married man and tries to concentrate on her mother's incessant chatter. She's talking about all the good Mr Eriksson has done on Åland, about the funds he's plowing into tourism and the charities he supports.

  Alicia tunes out again and looks at the beautiful scenery. They're crossing a long, narrow bridge where the sea opens up on both sides of the road. The sun's rays glitter on the surface of the water and Alicia leans her head against the headrest. It's good to be home.

  Soon they join a line of expensive cars, all just as well buffed and polished as Hilda's.

  'We're nearly there!' Hilda says, with her voice trembling. 'How do I look?' she asks and pulls down the sun visor to check on her hair and teeth.

  'You look fine,' Alicia says when her mother turns around.

  They get out of the car and Hilda whispers to Alicia, 'You are stunning. That green color really suits you, and the chiffon fabric flatters your figure. I'm glad I managed to convince you to wear the high-heeled wedges with that dress.'

  Twenty

  'Networking, that's what you need to do,' Mia says and gives Patrick a look. He knows she is disappointed that he's not come up to scratch.

  'Tonight's your chance,' she tells him as they're getting ready in the converted boathouse on the morning of the party. 'Daddy invited the editor from Expressen just for you.'

  Expressen is the other large evening paper in Sweden. Patrick has been put on notice of redundancy, something he hasn't shared with his wife. His boss at the paper told him everyone got the same notice, but he knows that's not true. He hasn't had a scoop in years. He doesn't care as much about his career as Mia does. He's fed up with the way Journalen sensationalizes the news. There are no standards in journalism anymore. But that doesn't matter to Mia and her parents. Her father, who has his fingers in many pies in Sweden too, just needs her daughter's husband to conform to the upper-class image he had of Patrick when Mia married him. Little did Mr Eriksson know that he was just an ordinary Norrbotten Swede, who got lucky with a job in a major Stockholm newspaper. Even after ten years with Mia (and especially now, Patrick thinks) it's important that he has a good independent income.

  He's married into a family with standing, with a prize-winning author to boot. Something he's often reminded about.

  'All you need to do is to impress him with your ...' Mia looks Patrick up and down. 'Well, try at least to sound intelligent.'

  Patrick doesn't say anything. He can't think of an equally suitable slur.

  'Where are the girls?' he asks instead.

  'In the house.'

  Patrick thinks of his daughters in Kurt and Beatrice Eriksson's large house, scrubbed clean, watching a cartoon on TV, or playing on their iPads in one of the upper bedrooms. Mia got them ready hours before the party to give herself plenty of time to preen.

  Everything needs to be perfect, that's how Pappa likes it.

  Patrick has also been required to get ready in good time and is now standing dressed in his best linen suit in front of the floor-length windows of their converted boathouse, looking at one of the Viking Line ferries on its way toward Sweden. Patrick grabs the binoculars out of habit and surveys the ship through them.

  'Are you even listening to me?' Mia says, removing the lenses from Patrick's hand. Her voice is gentle, too gentle, and Patrick looks at his wife. She's slim, but with a shapely body. Her legs, which are long anyway, are further elongated by the white outfit she's wearing.

  'Isn't that boiler suit going to get dirty?' Patrick says.

  Mia takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, throwing the binoculars on their vast Hästens bed, which takes up most of the bedroom. Her face is angular, all straight lines. With her hands on her hips. 'Jump suit, not a boiler suit. I'm not a fucking plumber!'

  'All the same, red wine on that thing ...'

  Now Mia has a knowing smile on her lips. 'Don't change the subject, darling.' She comes close to Patrick and presses her body against his. The top of the suit is open, almost down to her naval, and he pulls the side of the neckline away from her chest and peers inside. He sees one pink nipple on her pert little breast.

  'No bra, eh? Who are you out to impress today?'

  Mia lifts her dark brown eyes at him. Her smile has disappeared. 'Don't be nasty.'

  'I'm not,' Patrick says, releasing his grip on her suit and taking a couple of steps toward the bed to retrieve the binoculars. Turning around and seeing his wife's shapely rear framed by the calm teal sea beyond the large window, he says, 'I can show you how nice I can be.' He reaches out to place his palm on one of Mia's buttocks, but she moves away just before he can make contact.

  'Don't.' The expression on her face is icy cold.

  Patrick sighs and continues to peer at the large red ferry. He sees people on the deck, gazing toward the coastline. There's a couple kissing, the woman's dress flapping in the wind. Patrick feels almost jealous of the man next to the smiling woman. He's forgotten how to be happy, he thinks, and resolves to try to appease Mia. Perhaps there's still hope? But when he puts down the binoculars and turns around to say something to her, he finds himself alone in the room.

  * * *

  Alicia sees Patrick almost as soon as she, Hilda and Uffe come around the corner and get the full vista of the magnificent house. Along with all the other well-dressed people, they've abandoned their car keys to a young guy with thick dark hair who
directs them down a well-tended path toward a vast, modern building.

  Valet parking in Åland, Alicia thinks. She's never even been offered it in London!

  Patrick is dressed in a light-colored linen suit, with a T-shirt underneath. Somehow, he looks even more bronzed than he did a few days ago. He has a wide smile on his lips as he greets guests at the top of stairs leading to a wooden deck, which has been stained dark gray to blend into the rock surrounding the house. The place itself is covered in glass. A pair of tall windows facing the sea form the center of the house, with two long wings on either side, and sloping roofs half shading the glass. The house seems to be floating in the sea, which today is calm, blue-green in color. A slight wind is making patterns like fish scales on the surface of the water, and the sun is high up, the sky blindingly blue with just a few fluffy clouds breaking up the perfect impression.

  Patrick is wearing aviator-style sunglasses, but Alicia can see from his smile that he has spotted them. He whispers something to a man standing next to him and steps down the stairs to greet them personally. He makes a few apologies as he walks toward Alicia, Uffe and Hilda, and a few eyebrows are raised at the attention they are getting. When he leans down to kiss Hilda's cheek, her mother's face lights up in awe. She moves her shoulders slightly lower down her back and lifts her head toward Patrick.

  'How lovely of you to invite us!' she says and Patrick smiles. 'Not at all, it's a privilege to have you here.' As he says this, he glances at Alicia, who is standing behind Hilda and Uffe. Hilda introduces her husband to Patrick and the two men shake hands. And then he is standing opposite Alicia.

  'Nice dress,' he says quietly against her ear as he bends down to kiss Alicia's cheek. His hand touches her back and she can feel his fingers through the thin fabric. The garment Hilda chose for her skims her body with three layers of fabric. The hem touches her calves but has slits up to her thighs, so that her legs are momentarily revealed when she walks. Alicia tries not to blush and is glad of the large pair of sunglasses she popped into her handbag at the last minute. She's sure her eyes will betray her emotions, so she keeps her shades on, even when Patrick removes his and gazes at her quietly. Just before the moment becomes embarrassing, Patrick says, 'Come and have a drink!'