The Bridges

by Tarjei Vesaas

  No, don’t do that.

  But it’s worse for her than for me, he persuaded himself. I must see her.

  The desire was so urgent that he followed its bidding. There were none of the thoughts he had had on the road that afternoon. He would not involve them—they belonged to a better and more secure moment.

  I’m coming, Aud. It’s that dog.

  Getting to Aud in the middle of the night without attracting attention was no problem in the twin houses. No one would notice even if they wanted to. His room and Aud’s were in exactly the same position, with the door opening straight on to the hall, and no stairs to creak. Even if the front door was locked, the twin houses naturally had twin keys so that they could let themselves in to each other if necessary.

  Perhaps she really has gone to the wood, as she suggested?

  For this reason he dressed completely, shoes and all. He took a strong torch with him too, but without switching it on; he needed no light here.

  Ugh—only a thought. That tongue.

  Soundlessly he came out into the passage and opened the outer door, fumbling first along the wall for the key to the next door house. The key was in its place, as he knew. The way was open.

  Outside was a luxuriant late summer night, lovely and mild, with scented waves of over-ripeness and contentment. The previous night had also been mild and beautiful, he remembered. He had been up late. Perhaps someone had been especially helped by such a night, he thought.

  We two who are involved are meeting now.

  He let himself into Aud’s house.

  Torvil was as much at home here as in his own house, and reached Aud’s door without making any noise. He opened it, his heart pounding.

  Dark and silent. But someone was there—Aud had not gone to the wood after all. She heard him at once and whispered from over there in the dark, ‘I thought you’d come, Torvil.’

  He was not surprised.

  ‘Why?’ he asked, because it was the right thing to say.

  ‘I’ll tell you in a minute, if you’ll come here.’

  He switched on the torch and directed the beam at the floor as he went over to the bed.

  ‘I didn’t know whether you’d be here.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘You said something about going over to the wood.’

  ‘Oh, that—no, I didn’t dare when it came to the point.’

  He moved the beam so that a glimmer fell on her, almost forgetting what he had promised himself. There lay Aud.

  ‘Come and sit down,’ said Aud making room for him on the edge of the bed.

  ‘You had something to tell me,’ he said tensely.

  ‘Yes. But first I want you to tell me why you came here tonight.’

  She sounded anxious. He could not tell her about his terrifying dream. She must never hear about it.

  ‘I’d rather not tell you,’ he said.

  ‘Do you think we ought to go over to the wood after all?’ she asked fearfully.

  ‘No. It’s too late now. If anything’s happened there it’ll be over now.’

  Aud said, ‘Do you know, I was on my way over to you when you opened the door?’

  ‘Oh? Tell me, then. You’re only dragging it out yet you don’t seem to want to.’

  ‘No, I don’t really. But I wasn’t surprised to see you. I had dreamed such an awful dream about you.’

  Torvil started in surprise. ‘Did you? About us?’

  ‘Yes, or about you.’

  ‘May I switch on the light?’ he asked in embarrassment. He had his finger on the reading-lamp.

  ‘No. Oh, all right, if you like.’

  ‘I want to see you while you’re telling me.’ He had to watch Aud carefully.

  ‘Are you afraid of what you’re going to hear, Torvil?’

  ‘Maybe. How do I know?’

  ‘We are afraid now,’ said Aud.

  ‘You must tell me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You must tell me quickly!’

  ‘Yes. You were licked by a blind dog, Torvil. In my dreams.’

  ‘But!’ he began. Then he stopped, afraid he was gaping.

  This can’t be right. Did she really say that? Does she know what she’s saying?

  ‘I was?’ he managed to say.

  ‘Yes. I was there too. But it was you, he came to you. I don’t want to talk about it any more, Torvil. I don’t want to go into it any more. I think I screamed.’

  There was something in her eyes. He asked, ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘I’m looking at you the way I usually do, that’s all. Be quiet.’

  In the sharper light from the reading-lamp he saw that she was trembling. He turned the lamp slightly, and in the half-shadow he touched her. She was still trembling.

  The familiar attraction lay beneath, but had hidden itself in other things. She was shivering under the leaf-thin nightdress. Her eyes were afraid. What had she seen?

  She said, ‘It was just before you came, you see, that’s why. But I’ll be all right in a minute.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘And you didn’t dream after what happened last night?’

  He shook his head.

  Aud hesitated as if searching for something. Something she could not get hold of.

  Torvil—’

  ‘Mm?’

  ‘You’re not supposed to tell people your dreams. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘I bullied you into it.’

  ‘But I saw you jump, Torvil.’

  ‘No. You said it so abruptly.’

  He could not leave it alone. ‘You said a dog?’

  ‘I said I’m not going to think about it any more, do you hear? I’ve forgotten all about it.’

  ‘You’re just saying that. But it’s not right, what happened tonight.’

  ‘I don’t understand you. What do you mean?’

  He shook his head in perplexity. ‘Can’t explain, Aud.’

  She said quickly, ‘You’d better go now.’

  He looked at her wide-eyed. ‘Was there a frosty clearing too?’

  She winced. ‘Are you crazy? Yes! What of it?’

  ‘Nothing. I thought it belonged. A picture I saw once upon a time. I’ll go now,’ he said, and switched off the table-lamp.

  Aud said, ‘You shouldn’t really do that either, but there.’

  Everything had disappeared. Neither Aud in her nightdress nor her story seemed to have been real.

  He left at once. Nothing rusty or neglected squeaked; you could walk through the house like a shadow if you wished.

  9

  The Easy Morning

  The next morning they stood, satchels in hand, in front of Aud’s mother.

  ‘We’re going across to the wood to find somewhere to read, Mother.’

  ‘All right,’ said her mother. She laughed teasingly and added, ‘Are you going to read with a spade?’

  Torvil laughed in the easy morning. ‘We might, if it gets too boring.’

  ‘Will you be long, Aud?’

  A lightning glance from the one to the other. Torvil disposed of the question carelessly. ‘Till dinner-time, I expect. We’ll probably turn up when there’s food to be had.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt you will!’

  They were about to go; but the scene was not over. She asked them a question, ‘Did anyone have a bad dream last night?’

  Torvil jerked in surprise, but managed to round the obstacle. ‘Nothing in particular, as far as I know. Why?’

  ‘Thought I heard a scream, but I wasn’t sure where it came from.’

  She looked at Torvil. He decided that she could have heard him, if he had screamed. Her bedroom window had been open.

  ‘You must have been dreaming,’ he said lightly, hoisting the spade up on his shoulder.

  ‘We’ll see, Torvil.’

  ‘We must go,’ said Aud.

  They wandered idly away from the two houses that were dozing in the quiet of the holiday.
r />   ‘Didn’t know your mother lay awake at night, Aud.’

  ‘How should we know?’

  ‘They don’t look like it, any of those four.’

  ‘Did you scream?’ asked Aud.

  ‘I don’t know. But you did. You said so.’

  ‘Torvil, didn’t we say we were going to forget this nonsense? By the way, did they say anything to you at home today?’

  ‘Nothing. They saw me leaving with my books as usual. We never say more than we have to in our house, as you know.’

  Early morning. They had been up early. Perhaps the night had left its mark, but their parents had not scrutinized them.

  Aud said, tormented, ‘Why do you swing that spade about so?’

  He stopped doing it at once.

  Her nerves were worn thin. But they were walking more easily today. It was strange that they could walk like this. It was almost shameful.

  It was the morning air that did it. The morning light. Yesterday evening the light had dwindled beneath the twigs—and they had felt unspeakable sorrow. But the morning was shining on their faces. A morning worn thin, but, unbelievably, you were able to push thoughts aside, helped by the morning light and the morning scent.

  Cars began humming up on the road. Aud and Torvil walked towards the wood.

  Nobody could hear them there.

  ‘If you had known who it was,’ Torvil broached the intolerable subject again, ‘what would you have done?’

  Aud glanced at him. ‘What do you think?’

  Torvil paused. It was all so precarious. Suspicion was quick to lie in ambush and the voice quick to change its tone. The ground was quick to slide away as you were walking so easily.

  ‘I’d have done exactly the same,’ said Aud, ‘I’d have stopped you.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I’m sorry,’ said Torvil.

  ‘But what else are you thinking?’ she asked angrily. ‘You didn’t give me an answer.’

  ‘I’m not thinking anything. And I don’t want to know what you imagine I’m thinking.’

  Aud was not satisfied.

  ‘What makes you think I’m imagining anything? I think it’s time you shut up, Torvil.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to quarrel.’

  ‘You ought at least to know me a little better. I’ve no idea. But that’s no reason why we shouldn’t help her!’

  ‘Haven’t I promised to do that?’

  They walked along in silence. But this problem appeared important to Torvil; it had become significant for Aud and himself.

  ‘Aud.’

  ‘What is it now?’ She was still angry, upset in advance by what was in store for them.

  ‘I think we’re standing on either side of a chasm,’ said Torvil.

  She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

  ‘I thought I knew just as much as you do about everything around us,’ he said. ‘But now a chasm has opened up, and you’re on the other side.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Aud.

  Was he small now? Sulky? Stupid?

  She did not reply.

  All the time they were walking towards the horrible task that awaited them.

  When they caught sight of the solitary stone through the trees their throats constricted. What were they going to do? How ought they to act? Nothing was clear. Nothing except Aud’s wild outpourings yesterday, in defence of their unhappy cause. Torvil had taken the spade with him on impulse; they had not come to any decision about using a spade.

  The image of what had slipped away into the darkness yesterday made them embarrassed and silent. They walked fast, staring stiffly in front of them.

  It was all very different when they rounded the stone. There was nothing there.

  ‘Look at that!’

  ‘It can’t be true.’

  ‘What isn’t true?’

  The stones they had laid on it had been pushed aside and the pile of twigs scattered. There was nothing else to be seen. They could not believe their eyes. It occurred to them that perhaps they were dreaming all the time, that they had been dreaming yesterday, just as they had done last night, that all of it was no more than a shifting dream.

  Oh no. No dream. Look there.

  There are our stones.

  How real simple stones can be. Boundary stones, light underneath but with grey-black ridges, freshly tom up from where they were lying yesterday evening. I remember them very well.

  The numbing feeling of stepping out into a vacuum vanished just as quickly as it had slid through them.

  But stones ...

  Wasn’t this a stone-heavy burden falling away? They were freed.

  They had been freed from the thing they had dreaded more than they would admit, in spite of the easy mood of the morning.

  Freed from it—just as unexpectedly as they had been thrown into it during yesterday’s walk.

  They looked into each other’s eyes. Only now did they realize how much they had dreaded it as they walked with easy footsteps, swinging a rusty spade.

  Just a glance. But their relief did not last longer than just a glance either. They had seen the pathetic object merging with the darkness yesterday evening. They could not be freed of that.

  It had to be said. Torvil said it.

  ‘We’re involved now all the same. Whoever was here last night saw that someone had been here and put it to rights, had carried stones and covered it over.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Aud.

  ‘All I’m saying is, we’ve got off easily, at least to begin with.’

  ‘Yes, what else?’

  ‘Didn’t I say we were involved?’

  Involved. The word did not sound very reassuring. It sounded dangerous and difficult in this situation. They stood and thought about the new position, or whatever it ought to be called, that they now held. They were not two ordinary eighteen-year-olds, they were two involved persons.

  Aud said, ‘So there are others besides ourselves who know. There’s someone who might have helped her.’

  Her ...

  Her had been said now. Her seemed to be only a question. His thoughts tried to concentrate on a her, but could not do so. Someone from the unknown, someone who was suffering and most certainly would be at her wits’ end at this moment. Her, said the girl Aud and pushed it close to him, although it was only a word.

  Torvil said, ‘Well, it’s a good thing there was somebody.’

  ‘Hadn’t we intended to see to this as well?’ said Aud, a little sharply.

  ‘Oh yes, you’ll have your share in it, Aud, don’t you worry.’

  ‘You talk as if you knew something. I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Rubbish. I was thinking that the person who came here last night might perhaps have seen us yesterday evening, and knows what we look like.’

  Aud started in surprise. ‘What a fantastic idea!’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe he was standing behind a tree-trunk watching us yesterday evening. Maybe he came to get rid of it, but heard us.’

  ‘Ugh, don’t say that.’

  Aud stopped, struck by a new thought. ‘Did you say he?’

  Thoughts came that you could not say out loud. Torvil raised his voice, ‘How can we know anything about it? I said he by chance, don’t you see?’

  ‘I know that, but I expect you were right. She wouldn’t have been able to do much about it, new-born as it was,’ said Aud.

  ‘New-born?’

  ‘Yes, didn’t you see that? Didn’t you see anything?’

  I saw it disappearing into the darkness, he might have answered, but let it go.

  ‘Besides, I can well believe someone was standing behind a tree-trunk, as you said,’ continued Aud.

  ‘Mm. You could be heard for miles.’

  ‘Probably so. I couldn’t help it. Think it over and see if you understand it.’

  Torvil thought it over. He thought: I don’t know how girls are.

  ‘It’s pretty certain we’re not through with this,’ he said, ‘whether anyone wa
s standing behind a tree-trunk or not.’

  They looked in perplexity at the spot where there was nothing to see.

  ‘Shall we go home?’ said Aud. ‘We shan’t read a word today in any case.’

  ‘Let’s stay here to see if anyone comes,’ replied Torvil defiantly.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘All right, let’s go down to the river and sit on the bank.’

  Aud stayed where she was.

  ‘Don’t you want to?’

  It was something else. Aud stood still, looking around her at the stones and twigs and everything.

  ‘We shall remember this spot as long as we live,’ she said.

  She seemed to find it difficult to tear herself away.

  Torvil asked cautiously and oddly, ‘Is there anything more you would like to say?’

  ‘No. We’ll go now.’

  They went without looking back. Suddenly they felt as if they were being watched.

  Is there anything more you would like to say?

  They both kept their shy, solemn thoughts to themselves.

  Part Two: Gliding Depths

  10

  A Thousand Ways

  Something is waiting. The air is charged with messages that never arrive.

  You know they are here.

  You turn towards an approaching, unknown sign, and feel what might be a faint, muffled threat from it, although it does not seem to be going to reveal itself. Even if you are with the others indoors, you are at the same time in an empty room, with the message waiting outside. You are certain it is there; it is simply that it does not announce its presence. You have no idea where it will come from and what form it will take. You imagine a thousand ways.

  In any case something precarious is waiting. It may step in through the door as a person. A letter may quite easily come in the post. The telephone may ring with a call from another part of the country.

  It’s most likely to be the telephone, and that’s the worst. Harsh. Right through your head. You stand nailed to the floor.

  Or it may come sneaking up from nowhere: It is reported that there has been found ...

  Whispering behind your back.

  A little later there is more whispering, perhaps. You notice eyes watching you, but they slide away.

  No, it can’t happen. There were only the two of us, after all, we could easily reply.

  Merely an assertion. What do we know about the person who could not have been behind the tree?