Time to Let Go

by Christoph Fischer

  “Yes, of course, that remains undisputed. We are not here to cause any more problems. Believe me, my father is very embarrassed about the whole incident and we are here to hear the verdict, apologise and move on with our lives and past this very sad affair,” Henrik said, sounding very sincere.

  “Well, I am pleased you see it that way,” said Constable Walker, sounding very content. “I will spare you a lecture about driving in such a state. Mr Korhonen Senior. I cannot revoke the penalty points and the fine for reckless driving. Do you agree then that you should not have driven last night in your emotional state?”

  Walter managed a quiet. “Yes.”

  “Ms Walker, I mean Officer, we completely agree. My father is a very responsible person, to the point of pedantry. Judging one’s emotional state is a very difficult undertaking, not quite the same as drinking and driving, which is something my father never does. I am sure he will learn a lot from this incident and be more aware of this in the future,” Henrik assured.

  The police woman looked amused and seemed to be contemplating what to do.

  “Looking at the notes my colleagues made I must say that this ‘outburst’ appears to have been a rather mild one,” she finally admitted. “Since your father complied and left the vehicle parked by the road I am happy to leave the matter at that.”

  “Thank you. When my father told me about the incident I was very surprised. He is normally a very calm and obedient person, and certainly has no problem with the authority of the police,” Henrik added.

  “Mr Korhonen Junior, thank you for the testimony but you are beginning to overdo your act. Anyway, I am under the impression that my colleague was extremely harsh with you last night. I am prepared to leave it there. Mr Korhonen Senior, what do you have to say to that?”

  “That...ehm…is very generous of you. I am very grateful,” Walter said humbly. Henrik beamed at him approvingly.

  “The reception staff will sort out the formalities and will return your father’s licence and keys to you once you have paid the fine.

  The police woman leaned forward and said to Walter in a conspiring tone: “Don’t quote me on this but I do agree with some of your comments from last night. If that had been me I would not have wasted my time on lecturing the sober drivers. You were quite right. Drunk drivers are the real danger on our roads. With them out of the way the roads could cope more easily. Who needs cars more than the elderly? My mother has difficulties walking and she would be lost without her car.”

  Walter was fuming at those patronising remarks, but Henrik took over once more.

  “So true, Mrs Walker. So true. Very kind of you to see it this way. We appreciate it.”

  Constable Walker smiled at Henrik. She seemed to know that she was being played but it probably made a pleasant change for her to be charmed rather than being confronted and bombarded with the most ridiculous of excuses or threats.

  On the way to Walter’s car Henrik was as smug as he could be.

  “Well done, Dad. I am glad you held it together.”

  “I was close a few times to telling her what I really thought,” Walter replied. “She was as patronising as they come. God, she made me so angry.”

  “I could see that,” Henrik said with a grin. “It doesn’t matter now, does it - you got away with it. Relatively speaking of course. You must admit this is much better than arguing your point and dragging the entire affair to court.”

  “I guess so,” Walter said unconvinced. “I still maintain that there was nothing wrong with my driving. Who has not drifted a little over their lane when there is no traffic to watch out for? I find this quite humiliating, to be honest.”

  “Maybe you should have the wheels checked out,” Henrik pointed out. “It might be a technical fault.”

  “Well, at least it is over now. Please do me a favour and don’t tell your sister.”

  “Why not? It is no big deal,” Henrik pointed out.

  “I will never hear the end of it.”

  “But it did happen. Why pretend that it didn’t? Don’t be such a child.”

  Back at home they found an empty house. Hanna had left them a note on the kitchen table that she had taken her mother for a walk in a forest some way out of town and were going to be back soon.

  “How can she do this today that you are here?” Walter said grumpily.

  “Well, you said you needed to speak to me privately. I think she did it to make that easier for us. Don’t get worked up about it,” Henrik defended his sister.

  “What was that in the police station about your business going under and Hanna losing her job? Is any of it true?”

  “Of course not! It is how you talk to them. You have to sound convincing,” Henrik explained.

  “Something is up with Hanna though and she just won’t tell me. Has she said anything to you about why she is taking time off work? They haven’t fired her, have they?” Walter worried.

  “She doesn’t want to talk about it and that is what she told me when I asked: so let her be. You know she can’t keep a secret for long,” Henrik said.

  “This time she seems pretty good at it. Do you know anything?”

  “Hanna and I exchange two or three emails a year. That is the extent of our relationship. If she has big news I usually hear about it from you, not from her. What do you want to do for lunch? Shall we go for a meal, maybe somewhere nice?” Henrik asked.

  “Eating out has become a bit of an effort with your mother. She can be a liability in public places. We had some bad experiences with waiters. I prefer her to eat here in her usual environment,” Walter stated.

  “I am sure it is easier for everyone but if you really believe that she still has some of her marbles left maybe a change might stimulate her brain? Will repetition not encourage her to forget even more?” Henrik asked.

  “There are different theories but none of them has been proven beyond doubt. Stability and stimulation are both recommended but the way I see it, routine works better for your mother, challenges just confuse her”

  “Well, you are the boss,” Henrik said, with a little more meaning than he intended.

  “How is the hotel business going?” Walter changed the subject. “Are you managing with the recession?”

  “The hotel industry has been hit hard by the economic downturn, but not as badly as you might think. We have moved into the conference market in our chain. The companies that need to hold them are amazed they can get into our reputable hotels for the cheap rates that we offer. It looks great in their advertising,” Henrik boasted.

  “How can you afford that?” Walter wondered.

  “Well, the profit margin is smaller, but we don’t provide the same kind of quality service and luxury extras. We use cheap shampoos, cheap catering from outside for the conference guests and a few more little tricks like that.”

  “Won’t your reputation suffer from this?” Walter worried.

  “No. We still kept the big and famous hotels in the old concept. If you stayed with us in London or Paris, for example, you would still get the old classic experience, including a huge bill at check out.”

  “And Sunita? How is she doing? Do I hear wedding bells yet?” Walter asked hopefully.

  “No. Not yet, I am afraid.”

  “You are not getting any younger. You don’t want to wait until you are my age to have kids, do you?” Walter said alarmed.

  “Sunita is still young. Women don’t have them so early any more. Her career looks like it is really taking off right now. In her industry that can be over in a few months’ time. If that happens we will get married and have kids, but we have to enjoy her success while it lasts. I am actually picking her up from the airport tomorrow evening.”

  “So no grandchildren for me then, the end of our particular Korhonen branch,” Walter lamented.

  “We will see. Sunita may always change her mind,” Henrik offered as consolation.

  “Yeah, well it would not be a proper Korhonen child, it being half
Indian. Not a very Finnish look,” Walter said jokingly.

  “I didn’t realise that was of any importance to you, having a Finnish grandchild,” Henrik responded indignantly, amazed at his father’s tactlessness and inability to come to terms with the current times; naturally he was stuck in the 1950s.

  “Not important, no. I am sorry I said that. I was just thinking that that particular side of our family heritage is going to be lost.”

  “Dad, sometimes you talk a lot of rubbish. What is this Finnish heritage, please?” an amused Henrik asked. “Is it our Viking looks and genes you are concerned about? Because I have to break it to you: we are half British already! Or is it the bear worship, the Scandinavian paganism and the folk songs? That is long over in Finland, too. Or do you want to preserve the language we never speak?”

  “If you say it like that of course it sounds silly.” Walter said defensively.

  “What I mean is not so much any of those things in particular, but the Finnish culture, as a whole,” Walter tried to explain.

  “Dad, what is the Finland you are talking about? Which borders are you even using?” Henrik went on the offensive, the remark from his father concerning ‘improper’ grandchildren providing his ammunition. “Before or after the Winter War? Are you counting in the Swedes and the Sami as Finnish? What about second generation immigrants? The few Jews and Roma? You live in a dream world. The Finland as you imagine it is over and gone.”

  “Don’t be so ridiculous. Go fly over there and you can see for yourself what I am talking about,” Walter held firm to his argument.

  “We are part of a modern Europe now where your nonsense is just a small, sweet nostalgia to attract tourists and revenue. The world is a global village with the same fast food and hotel chains in every city on every continent. The Internet has put the last nail in that coffin. Gradually we will all become more or less the same everywhere.”

  “Well, I like that nostalgia. I wouldn’t mind if the differences stayed. I like national culture and identity. That does not make me a nationalist or a racist.”

  “It does if you prefer a Finnish look to an Indian in your grandchildren.”

  “I’ll love your kids whatever colour. I would be pleased if Hanna would settle down with almost any man now, too. Being single at her age is rather sad. It would be nice if she finally found someone who stays with her. It would be nice to see you all happy with your own nuclear families.”

  “It is usually Hanna who leaves the men. Not the other way round,” Henrik told his father.

  “Really? I thought they could not handle the drama and the obscure hobbies she has. I am amazed the men stay long enough that she even gets a chance to leave them of her own accord,” Walter said dismissively.

  “There are a lot of guys who are into the same stuff as Hanna. She has got her pick of them, of that I am sure. All of my mates fancied her and she still looks really good for her age. She might be a little nuts but she has her charms.”

  “She needs someone who is more grounded, not one of those hippies,” Walter continued his rant.

  Henrik laughed. “We just recently had a psychic fair and a holistic therapy conference in our hotel and I hate to disappoint you, but the people there were a far cry from the hippies you think they are. The entire sector has gone mainstream; it is quite acceptable now to go to Yoga, do Tai Chi and meditation. Just because you and I don’t get it, that doesn’t mean we have to slag it off. Celebrities like Madonna support it; it is widely regarded as normal now.”

  “Well, anyway,” Walter tried to change the subject.

  “Yes, anyway,” his son interrupted. “You just said any man will do for your daughter, so you had better not dismiss the Yoga guys.”

  Chapter 15 Escape

  In the meantime, Hanna had been having a hard time. Shortly after Henrik and Walter had departed, the landline had started to ring and had done so continuously. Hanna finally picked up, only to find that it was a journalist who wanted to ask her about the death on the plane.

  “I am sorry but I can’t speak about it,” she said. “Call the airline press office.”

  “You don’t want to entrust your good reputation into the hands of a press office,” the caller had instructed her. “So you want a large corporation to tell your own story? Come on, love, tell me what happened?”

  She refused to comment, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “You’ll feel better for getting it off your chest and the public will love you. Your face on the front page, wouldn’t that be fantastic?”

  “Where did you get my number?”

  “Simple check on the Internet. Your parents are listed in all directories. Now, love, how was she when you found her? Was she still breathing?”

  Hanna simply hung up but the phone kept ringing and so she finally pulled the plug out. A terrible realisation set in. This call might explain the many unknown numbers on her mobile phone earlier.

  She had known that her story had to break at some point but how naïve to think she would not be found by the press. She needed to get out of the house; if not for her own sake then at least for her mother’s.

  She quickly got Biddy dressed for the outdoors and took her on one of her favourite forest walks, which was only a short drive away.

  The forest turned out to be very popular with weekend walkers and joggers. On the narrow path Hanna struggled to keep Biddy out of the way of other walkers. Her mother would suddenly stop and stare at the trees and the birds, earning her a few disapproving looks and comments.

  The colours of the leaves were fantastic at this time of the year, which was probably why the place was so busy. Biddy beamed with awe just the way she had always done. It was beautiful to see that her mother had kept her love of nature and could be so easily pleased. Hanna realised how lucky they were to have so many options to entertain her mother and make her days bearable. Many of her work colleagues complained that people in their care had no interests in anything. Then again her mother had always been an exceptionally positive and upbeat person who had been rarely knocked down by life and when she had, she very quickly got back up again. Biddy smiled at the people around her and approached several dogs to pet them.

  A group of mountain bikers shot past Biddy and gave her a big fright. She nearly fell and after that she held on to her daughter for dear life.

  “Are you alright, Biddy?” Hanna asked but she seemed shell shocked and didn’t reply. The two walked with linked arms for a little longer but Biddy had retreated into her shell and seemed not to notice anything but the ground ahead of her and Hanna’s arm.

  More stressed than she had been before the walk, Hanna arrived back at the car park and took her mother home.

  When they got to the Korhonen home Biddy fortunately snapped out of her withdrawn state and made a beeline for Henrik.

  “We are ordering take-out,” Henrik announced. “What can we get for you, Hanna?”

  “Vegetarian curry, if Indian or Thai food is an option. Ask them for the dish with the least fat in it,” Hanna answered. As she ran up the stairs she realised that the phone was still unplugged so she turned on her heels and took the phone out of Henrik’s hand before he could try and dial.

  “I will speak to them myself, what are you going to have?” she said and she managed to put the cable back into the plug without anyone noticing. She ordered the food and then discreetly unplugged the phone again.

  Hanna really wanted to check her voice mail to see if Patrick had called but she had heard terrible stories about the kind of messages journalists left to provoke people into talking to them and she did not have the nerve for it. The guy earlier had been comparatively harmless but he had scared her enough.

  She went upstairs, put in one of her relaxation CDs and exhausted, she fell asleep in her chair.

  While Hanna had her much needed rest Biddy had fallen asleep on the sofa, too, and father and son sat in the kitchen waiting for the food. Henrik suddenly jumped up from his seat
and rushed to his car. When he came back he went into the living room where his mother was sleeping before joining his father in the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” Walter demanded to know. Henrik plugged in a baby monitor.

  “Have you lost your senses?” Walter asked outraged. “Baby toys for your parents?”

  Henrik ignored him and went back into the living room. “It make perfect sense, Dad, and you know it!” the baby monitor blasted Henrik’s voice from the living room into the kitchen. Walter pulled an angry face and when Henrik joined him once more in the kitchen he switched on the radio to listen to the 1 o'clock news.

  “It will help you relax, Dad,” Henrik said encouragingly. “You can keep an eye on mother whenever you need to without having to be quiet in the same room.”

  “It will only work if she makes a noise when she gets up. It is for screaming children, not for adults with memory loss.”

  “If you fine tune it you will hear the door opening or her footsteps. Don’t be so negative!”

  “Let me listen to the news,” Walter said abruptly but Henrik knew for once he had got through to his father.

  One of the items on the news was about an eccentric billionaire who was threatening to sue Hanna’s airline for damages. Henrik knew immediately that this was his sister’s case, even though her name was not mentioned. Walter found the story amusing and launched into one of his favourite speeches about the ‘culture of law suits’ and their multi-million damages over broken finger nails, but when he noticed the seriousness on his Henrik’s face he put two and two together.

  “Do you know about this? Has this anything to do with Hanna?”

  Henrik let out a big sigh and decided to come clean about it.

  “Yes, I’m afraid that story is about her,” he admitted. “She was on that flight and it was her who tried to revive the woman. I would have told you about it but Hanna said she was handling it. She was obviously lying. It is headline news for crying out loud. Did she think she could hide something as big as this from us?” His tone became increasingly angry as he spoke.