The Dedalus Book of Finnish Fantasy

by Johanna Sinisalo

Rea went running almost every evening. It was such a short journey into town that she could easily have carried on at the gym or an aerobic’s class, but jogging felt much better. You could always take a slightly different route – along the saw tracks through the woods or out towards the main road and maybe pop into the pub. You would almost always meet other people jogging, walking dogs or simply out for a stroll. Sometimes Rea would bump into her pupils from the school, loitering about in front of the shop or at the bus stop. Chatting to people and seeing their homes made her feel like she was gradually running her way into the heart of the village.

  Many times during her run Rea would stop to admire the beautiful gardens and wooden houses. The majority were well looked after older houses, but a lot of new houses had been built alongside them. The village was rapidly expanding towards the town on one side and the parish on the other – in a few years’ time it would probably no longer be a village but a fully-fledged suburb. The nearby woods were fast disappearing and joggers had no need to worry about getting lost, even if they cut along the path. It always felt as if the nearest house was shouting distance away, and still the tall pine and spruce trees created the impression of being out in the countryside. Doubtless there would be mushrooms and berries for the taking, even though there were plenty of people to pick them. Gardens throughout the village were already littered with children’s plastic buckets filled with unripe lingonberries.

  Rea had found a babysitter close by. As a new addition to the village, she had been advised to contact a large local religious family, where she would find willing helpers for all kinds of jobs. Laura, one of the older girls in the family, was more than happy to earn a little pocket money, though she was not greedy. Besides, she had received a firm grounding in childcare at home.

  Rea had placed some money on the kitchen cupboard.

  ‘Could you stay a moment, just so I can have a shower in peace?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course.’

  From the shower she could hear the telephone ring and Laura answered. Rea instinctively began to hurry. Perhaps it was the headmaster; perhaps she would have to do some extra preparation for tomorrow’s classes. Perhaps one of the parents wanted to see her.

  As Rea came out of the bathroom Laura was already putting on her trainers.

  ‘Oh, you were in a hurry after all. Have you still got homework to do?’

  Laura shook her head. As she turned round Rea noticed she was blushing.

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘It was a prank.’

  ‘What do you mean? What kind of prank?’

  ‘He said rude things. I won’t repeat them. I’m going home.’

  ‘But I haven’t paid you yet!’

  ‘Just give me a little more next time.’

  The door closed and Laura could be seen jumping on her bike. Tuisku was beginning to grumble with tiredness. Making him eat his supper, wash himself and go to sleep took so long that Rea only remembered the phone call as she was going to bed. It was those big boys. They would sit at somebody’s house calling all the teachers one by one, seeing who could say the rudest thing, then cackle down the phone. That must be it.

  Tuisku had taken to walking in his sleep. He had done it a few times before, but since they had moved he would get up every night and start wandering around the house. Rea would finally wake up as he walked past her bed. Sometimes Tuisku would try to go outside, but Rea would gently steer him away from the front door. Sometimes he would pull down his trousers and wee on the floor or go and sit on a stool by the kitchen window as though he were looking outside. In the mornings he would laugh when Rea told him what had happened. He thought she was only pulling his leg.

  Rea had meant to ask the school nurse what could be done about it, but had decided against it. At their first meeting the school nurse had not seemed the sort of person to whom a single mother could pour her heart out without social services being alerted. Best just watch him, she thought, and see how he settles in. He would soon meet new friends and start to feel more at home. Even without the advice of the school nurse Rea knew that Tuisku’s symptoms were not at all rare – in fact, they were probably to be expected, what with everything changing all at once.

  Perhaps he also sensed that something was troubling his mother too.

  For the first time in her life Rea had her very own reception class and a full-time job. So many children had started school in Närvä that autumn that a third class had been formed.

  Some of the children did not seem ready to go to big school, even though they had all been to the nursery. Some could barely tie their shoelaces, let alone concentrate for a whole lesson at a time. On top of this the autumn had been exceptionally warm and the little ones found it hard to sit indoors all day.

  ‘Miss! Can we go out and play yet?’ Little Teemu would whine at the beginning of every lesson.

  ‘First we’re going to learn some numbers. We can go out tomorrow for PE.’

  ‘But I can’t do it, it’s …’

  ‘I’ll show you. Let’s let everyone else concentrate.’

  Rea went over and looked at the boy’s smudged papers. He had managed to write out a few wiggly threes and was angrily tearing his hair.

  ‘I’ll draw one and you can copy it.’

  ‘No, do the whole line. I can’t do it.’

  ‘Of course you can’t, yet.’

  One of the girls put up her hand. This was still relatively rare.

  ‘Yes, Ulla?’

  ‘Miss, Eetu’s lying on the floor!’

  Rea walked over to the back of the classroom. Eetu was lying stretched out on the floor behind his desk.

  ‘Come on, back to your desk.’

  ‘He’s asleep,’ someone sniggered.

  ‘No he isn’t. Get up now,’ said Rea and knelt down beside him. She gently shook him. The boy rolled on to his back and opened his eyes. From the bewildered look on his face Rea assumed he must indeed have been asleep.

  ‘Didn’t you get much sleep last night?’

  Eetu dozily shook his head and crawled up to his desk.

  ‘Were you playing computer games till late?’

  ‘I haven’t got a computer.’

  ‘Give me your book. I’ll write a note to your parents, you need to go to bed earlier.’

  ‘I always go to sleep before nine,’ he maintained. The others all nodded in agreement and someone said:

  ‘Miss, you were asleep once.’

  ‘No I wasn’t. I just had my eyes shut.’

  Rea had nodded off last week whilst the children had been drawing rowan branches with crayons. The sun had warmed her desk and the classroom had been unusually calm.

  ‘You were snoring, Miss.’

  ‘No I wasn’t,’ she chuckled.

  After break someone would always come back in crying. The bigger children would throw balls at the little ones or shove them in the queue. This time fair-haired Mikael was howling in the corridor:

  ‘Miss! Miss!’

  From the amount of screaming Rea was expecting to see a bleeding wound in his knee, but all she saw was his tear-stained face.

  ‘Did someone hit you?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Well what’s happened then?’

  ‘Someone’s nicked my phone! My mum’s going to kill me, I’m not supposed to bring it to school.’

  ‘Where was it?’

  ‘In my coat pocket. I bet it was Little Teemu. Make him give it back, Miss!’

  ‘We don’t know who took it. Are you sure you had it with you?’

  Mikael continued shouting.

  ‘Yes, I was showing it to the girls at break time. Do something, Miss! Don’t be so soft on him!’

  Nothing seemed to calm him down, he just carried on screaming blue murder. The other children were starting to come back inside. They gathered behind Rea and listened to Mikael’s tantrum.

  ‘Has anyone else got a phone with them?’

  Nobody had one; at least, nobody admitted to having o
ne.

  ‘You ought not to bring mobile phones to school. If for some reason you have to, then keep it in your desk. I’m going to take Mikael to the headmaster’s office. Go back to the classroom and take out your exercise books. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  Rea took Mikael to the staff room and made him drink a glass of water. Then she reported the phone missing at the head’s office.

  The big boys had doubtless been at it again. They were probably hiding somewhere right now laughing and cackling in their breaking voices. That had to be it, because thieves did not hang around Närvä.

  A pile of post was waiting for her when she got home. On top of the pile was a letter. Rea recognised the handwriting on the envelope and ripped it up straight away.

  ‘Can I rip something up too?’ asked Tuisku. Rea handed him some junkmail and he proceeded to tear it to pieces.

  ‘Looks like a wolf did it!’ he said proudly. Rea nodded.

  She had not received any letters for a long time now. But where had he found Rea’s new address?

  That evening Rea went out jogging again. The rain was drizzling, but it did not bother her. Every now and then Rea shook her hair, as if all her worries would evaporate with the raindrops.

  Whereas in other towns people put gnomes in their gardens, people in Närvä preferred bears. Round here they really seemed to fit in better. They stood in front of most houses in the village. The basic model was always the same: a bear carved with a chainsaw from a single block of wood. The features were rough, but still – or perhaps even because of this – the bears looked and seemed just right. Many people had varnished their statues black or a dark brown. Someone had put a bunch of dried flowers in their bear’s paw, whilst someone else had draped their bear with the garish banner of a local sports club.

  Some of the fancier houses also had garden statues, the usual angels, frogs and naked cherubs; there were even a few fountains, though at this time of year the water was turned off.

  The smell of apples was heavy in the air. As if to tempt thieves the apple trees in many of the gardens grew right by the lane so that all you had to do was reach out and wait for one of the heavy branches to drop a ripe fruit into your palm.

  ‘You’ve got a bear too, haven’t you,’ she asked Laura as she untied her wet shoelaces. ‘Who makes them?’

  ‘Some farmer, on the side. He sells them at craft fairs and he’s got an advert in the paper. Apparently they’re selling so well that soon he won’t need another job. We got ours for free. My Dad helped him out with something and then one morning there it was in the garden. My little brother almost wet himself; it was dark and he was the first to leave for school and he found the statue right in front of the door.’

  ‘Can we have a bear too?’ asked Tuisku.

  Rea laughed.

  ‘We don’t need one, there’s one next door. You can go and see that one.’

  ‘The man keeps bees too. No one round here buys honey in the shops any more because his is so much better – and cheaper,’ Laura explained.

  ‘That’s good to know.’

  After Laura had left, Rea turned on the television.

  ‘The children’s programmes have finished,’ moaned Tuisku. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘You don’t need to do anything. It’ll soon be time for supper. Just let me watch the news.’

  Tuisku mumbled away to himself for a while longer, but quietened down eventually. Rea soon noticed that it was too quiet.

  ‘Tuisku, where are you?’

  He did not reply.

  ‘You haven’t fallen asleep, have you?’

  Rea found him in the kitchen. The floor was covered in shreds of paper.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m just tearing up these letters. I’m a shredder!’

  Rea had opened her mouth and was about to shout at him when she noticed something. Pieces of a letter were strewn in amongst the rubbish.

  ‘You could join in. You like tearing things up,’ Tuisku suggested as Rea sat on the floor and picked up the corner of an envelope. There was no stamp in sight. Had there been one that morning? Had the stamp been loose and fallen off? Rea rummaged through the strips of paper, although she already knew the answer.

  Outside it was already dark.

  ‘Let’s close the curtains and lock the door,’ she whispered.

  ‘There aren’t any curtains in the living room,’ laughed Tuisku.

  Though she was tired Rea could not get to sleep. She sat listening to sounds from outside and felt glad that she lived in a terrace. The neighbours were always close by. When Tuisku got up for his nightly sleepwalk, Rea glanced at the clock. It was just past two. This time Tuisku went straight up to the front door and tried to open it. He could not undo the lock, but he was trying so hard that Rea sat down on the floor and waited. She cautiously glanced out of the living room windows and looked down into the garden. She could see movement in the glare of the outside light. There was someone in the garden. Rea gasped. Tuisku was still fiddling at the door and muttering quietly to himself.

  Rea peered outside. She took care not to be seen as she approached the window. The people outside were not hiding, however, and Rea could soon make out who they were. She exhaled, relieved, and raised her trembling hands to her cheeks. Just children, she thought, and in their pyjamas. Each one was carrying a little bucket, and one by one they slowly disappeared round the corner. No wonder the kids were so tired at school, if their parents allowed them to roam around outside all night. For all she knew their parents might be at the pub or on night shift. Rea wondered whether she should go out and order them back to bed, but when Tuisku started wandering back towards the bedroom she decided to go after him.

  The following week the headmaster’s wallet was stolen from the staffroom. People suspected the boys in class six, who had been up to no good all through the summer and autumn. But when a Toyota belonging to one of the teachers disappeared from the carpark, Rea knew exactly what to expect. She felt she may as well give up straight away.What else could she do?

  She had already told the ladies at the pre-school that Tuisku was not to go home with anyone else. She had asked them to keep a close eye on him when the children were out playing, and lied that he had a habit of running away.But what was she supposed to do? Should she and Tuisku sit at home behind locked doors every evening?

  The telephone rang constantly, and whenever Rea answered it she could hear nothing. She knew it would not be long before something happened; something which would blow her new home, her job and her peaceful village to smithereens. Soon they would be nothing but a memory. But until then all she could do was go on as normal and try to be strong.

  On her runs Rea was sure she was being watched and followed. She no longer went through the woods but stuck to larger roads with houses nearby. Still she would often stop to watch a squirrel munching away by the side of the road and leaping from tree to tree beside her, or to collect bright crimson maple leaves to occupy Tuisku.

  And she could barely hide her excitement when she discovered Tuisku’s favourite plastic bucket full of chantarelles on the step.

  ‘Wow!’ she exclaimed from the door. ‘What wonderful mushrooms you’ve been picking! Let’s fry them right away, so Laura can have some too. Where did you find them? Maybe there’ll be enough to freeze …’

  ‘No,’ Tuisku snapped.

  ‘What do you mean, no?’

  Laura appeared behind Tuisku, smiling unsurely.

  ‘He said they’re not to be eaten.’

  ‘Why not? They look delicious!’

  ‘They’re for my game,’ he said firmly.

  Rea gave a laugh. ‘We don’t play with food. Why don’t you collect pebbles instead? Or leaves maybe.’

  The discussion was cut short. Tuisku flew into such a tantrum that Rea had to carry him to bed.

  ‘He’s at that age,’ she said to Laura holding the bedroom door shut. ‘You can come out when you’ve calmed down,’ she shoute
d through the door.

  ‘I hadn’t noticed he was especially disobedient. He’s generally very calm and seems mature for his age,’ said Laura, and Rea had to admit she was right. Had Tuisku really picked up on Rea’s fears, even thought she tried so hard to conceal them? Had he become worried too?

  Tuisku had fallen asleep on his bed before Laura left. Rea decided to let him sleep, even though this meant an early start the next morning – and surely a long night-time walk as well. Rea too fell asleep almost immediately.

  Ever since Tuisku was born Rea had been a light sleeper. Even when she was exhausted she would still wake up at the slightest sound or movement. This made it all the more difficult to fathom why this time things were different.

  She woke up the next morning as the alarm went off. Tuisku raised his head from the pillow and said, baffled:

  ‘I’m already dressed.’

  ‘That’s because you went to sleep like that,’ Rea reminded him. He seemed once again to be his old cheerful self.

  ‘Come on, let’s have some breakfast,’ she called. Sunlight was shining in through the curtains. It would be another beautiful day, even though it was now the middle of September. In her sleep Rea thought she had heard the sound of rain during the night, but now the skies had cleared again.

  Rea put on her slippers. As she raised her head she noticed footsteps on the bedroom floor. The muddy patches led to the foot of Tuisku’s bed, and next to the bed lay his wellington boots. Rea jumped up and followed the footsteps up to the front door. The door was ajar.

  ‘Did you go out last night?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I was asleep.’

  ‘Your wellies are by the bed.’

  ‘Why did you put them there?’

  Rea gave her head a shake and closed the door. She noticed Tuisku’s bucket was on the step, empty.

  ‘Your chantarelles,’ she said, though she knew this might spark off another tantrum. The mushrooms seemed very important to him.

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Someone’s taken them.’

  Tuisku seemed perfectly calm. ‘No, I was playing with them.’