Wild Song

by Janis Mackay

  ‘That’s rubbish.’ I kicked out my heels, splashing water up onto the poolside, but I still kept a tight grasp of Hannu’s hands. ‘Total garbage.’

  Hannu laughed. ‘Might be. Might not be. And what about the mermaids? Those beauties with the long golden hair, eh? You know, Niilo, there are a lot of wonderful, magical things in the sea. I love the sea, though it scares me too. Like when it’s stormy.’

  ‘You’re crazy.’

  ‘Okay, so mermaids and magic and the like, they’re just stories. But remember how some stories are true? And hey, I knew it, you’re a born swimmer. The way you’re kicking your legs back? That’s brilliant – like a frog. So how about we try the story where I let you go and you push forward with your arms, in big wide strokes. Like you’re swimming free in the ocean.’

  ‘What if I go under?’

  ‘I’ll bring you up again.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to do this stuff?’

  ‘There are plenty of logs out there needing to be stacked into piles.’

  I grinned. It had happened a few times lately and the sensation was strange – it didn’t feel like my face, twisting into this shape – but I couldn’t help it. Hannu grinned back and gently uncurled his fingers, setting me free. I kicked back with my feet and reached out with my arms, as though I was trying to grab at the water but couldn’t get hold of it.

  I started sinking and I cried out. I swallowed water. Then I went right under. I grabbed onto Hannu and he lifted me to the surface, choking and spluttering, and brought me right up onto the poolside. ‘That was brilliant, Niilo,’ he said.

  I spat out the water. ‘It was rubbish,’ I said. ‘And I’m not a frog. I don’t want to be a frog.’

  ‘Okay. You’re a seal. So, want to try again?’ He nodded towards the orange armbands at the side of the pool. ‘With a bit of plastic help?’

  I looked at the water, and shrugged. ‘Okay, but if anybody else comes along I’m taking them off.’

  So for half an hour, Hannu and me – unsinkable with the armbands – swam round and round and round. ‘Stupid of me to let your hands go,’ Hannu said, looking really upset. ‘You have to get used to being in the water. It’s a different world. What was I thinking? Maybe I was too full of the old stories. I was too pushy. I’m sorry, Niilo. You looked like a natural.’ He was swimming alongside me, telling me to kick and glide and stuff like that.

  ‘That’s okay,’ I said, and we kept going, round and round and round. Sometimes Hannu swam backwards, coaching me. And sometimes it did feel like the sea, with the waves lapping against the rocks, and the gulls in the blue sky overhead circling and crying. And I wasn’t scared. And I knew Hannu was right. I was a natural. It was like my legs and arms knew about water. I knew how to swim. Okay, I had armbands, but even though I had this help, I felt strong.

  ‘You heard of Ahtola?’ Hannu said as we made slow circuits of the pool.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Not who. What. It is Finland’s magical land under the waves. Where mythical sea creatures live. They make the waves, they care for the tides and the fish – there’s a whole kingdom down there. All kinds of creatures live in Ahtola, like Vellamo the sea maiden, or so the stories go, but most of us don’t see them. And there’s old Vainamoinen, the father of Finland – they say his mother gave birth to him in the sea. You know, Niilo, there’s more magic around than we might think. The magic ones keep the seas clean by chanting spells. They feed the good folk of Finland.’

  ‘What about the bad folk?’

  Hannu laughed. ‘I wouldn’t know about them. Seems to me the ones we call bad are sometimes the best, but they just don’t know it yet.’ He pulled over to the side of the pool and looked at me hard. ‘You’re not bad, Niilo. That’s a story you tell yourself.’

  ‘You’re a rubbish storyteller, Hannu,’ I said, and kicked back my heels. Hannu swam after me. We circled the pool in silence, and somewhere, way down in my memory, I did remember that I had heard stories of Ahtola. Maybe these old stories were from way back, before I built my capsule and lived in it. Or perhaps it had been the only thing I’d listened to in school.

  The teacher’s voice had droned on through the dark afternoon. ‘Vainamoinen, old and steadfast …’ I was listening, but pretending I wasn’t. I was looking out of the window at the sky over Helsinki, growing dark, but there was something about the rhythm of the teacher’s voice, and his tale of this father figure, with his long beard and huge muscles, born out of the air maiden in the sea, chanting magical runes and looking after the people of Finland. The teacher’s voice murmured on and it was like I was back there. ‘Then did Vainamoinen, rising, set his feet upon the surface of a sea-encircled island, in a region bare of forest … there he dwelt while years passed over, and his dwelling he established, on the silent, voiceless island, in a barren, treeless country.’

  I felt a shiver shoot up my spine as I remembered this. I liked stories. And this one told of a magical place that had nothing to do with houses and schools and cars and stuff. There was a world under the waves, and it was like my capsule – a safe and magic place. There, mermaids lived and creatures could change shape. There, a woman changed into a salmon.

  I wasn’t scared of the sea of Ahtola.

  ‘Poor old Vainamoinen. He never did get himself a wife.’ Hannu’s words cut in on the memory and water rushed into my mouth. I spluttered and yelled. I had been imagining the blue sky was above, not the ceiling of the swimming pool. ‘Easy does it, Niilo. Hey, you’re okay,’ he said as I grabbed his arm. ‘You did well. You swallowed a bit of water. Nothing to worry about. You looked like you were out there on the ocean. Maybe someday you will be.’ Hannu guided me to the poolside. ‘That’s our time up. Let’s get dressed.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ I said, climbing out of the pool, water dripping from me. I yanked off the armbands. ‘Can we do it tomorrow? Can we go to the sea tomorrow?’ I was still scared, but more in a thrilling way. It was like the fear had shifted into excitement with a hint of danger.

  ‘Steady on, Niilo. It takes time. You need to work up confidence in the pool first. You can’t swim yet, don’t forget that.’

  ‘So, okay, I’ll come here tomorrow. I’ll learn fast. And anyway, I practically can swim. I want to come again tomorrow.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Hannu said. ‘We were lucky to get a free slot today.’

  He must have seen the disappointment sit back over my face. That is so typical, I thought. Something goes well, then something else comes along to spoil it …

  We went into the changing room and that’s when I saw the red slash mark down his back. I could see stitch marks, loads of them – Scarface was nothing compared with this. I swallowed hard, wondering what had happened to him, but I didn’t ask. We dressed in silence. Hannu threw the damp towels into the wash basket and looked round at me, but I looked away.

  ‘If you would join in with the other boys you could come here every evening, you know.’

  I punched at the wooden bench and ignored Hannu. ‘They do a swim hour seven till eight every night. I heard it’s lots of fun.’

  I spat on the tiles.

  Hannu shrugged, then checked the timetable on the wall. ‘Looks like there’s a free space on Tuesday, Niilo,’ he said. ‘I’m off on Tuesdays but Tomi works then. He’d be happy to take you swimming.’

  I scowled and shook my head.

  Hannu sighed. ‘Well, if you insist on always doing things on your own, then you’ll have to wait for the same time next week.’ He sounded irritated.

  I glared at him. ‘That’s stupid,’ I shouted. ‘That’s ages away. What do you have to be off for? I’m not off. You go off this prison island and I never do. You play in a band and I don’t.’ I ran for the door. ‘It’s all rubbish.’ Of course, the door was locked. I kicked it. Hannu followed me over there, but took his time. He brought the key from his pocket, opened the door and escorted me back to my room. He didn’t say a word. We walked in silence, apart f
rom me banging my fist against the wall and stomping my feet on the wooden floorboards.

  ‘I play in a band because I spent ages practising the guitar.’ We were near my room when he said this. He said it slowly, like he was getting annoyed with me. ‘If we want to become good at something we need to dedicate ourselves to practising.’ Then he snatched in a deep breath. ‘Like I said before, you have a skill in picking things. You could probably pick the strings of a guitar. You want to play guitar?’

  I shrugged. I was still cut up about the swimming stuff, and the rules. I wanted to swim. Now he was going on about guitar. Then suddenly I had this image of me doing a drum solo in a rock band. Maybe Hannu was a mind-reader.

  ‘Or some other instrument maybe? Keyboards? Drums?’

  ‘Maybe drums,’ I muttered.

  ‘There’s a music studio in the school,’ he said. By this time we were at the door of my room, but I still didn’t look at him. And I couldn’t believe how bad I was feeling about the swimming thing. I’d got myself so worked up for swimming, and now he was wittering on about music. ‘I can see about getting you music lessons, if you like. Maybe we can fix that up for you.’

  ‘I thought we were going to swim. I want to swim. You’re confusing me.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘We’re supposed to offer you variety. You know, bit of this, bit of that. That’s part of the philosophy – widen your horizons and all that. Give you opportunities.’

  ‘I don’t want bits of this and that.’ I glared at him. ‘I want to swim in the sea.’ I couldn’t believe I was actually saying that, but when the words came out I knew it was true. That was what I wanted. He could stuff his guitar or his drum kit, and his dedication. I wanted to get off this island. And learning to swim in the sea would be a first step to swimming to freedom. Maybe I could make it all the way back to Helsinki, or find my own island, or sneak onto a boat? I wasn’t only skilled in picking things. I could be skilled in swimming, I knew I could.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said, cutting in on my escape plans. Hannu sounded none too hopeful.

  ‘Whatever,’ I mumbled, then yanked back the door handle and snuck into my room.

  ‘Goodnight then, Niilo,’ Hannu said.

  I slammed the door in his face. But I didn’t hear his footsteps go off as I stood at the other side of the door. I could feel he was still there, at the other side. We stood like that for ages, then I heard him tap the door.

  ‘Listen, Niilo,’ he said, his voice kind of choked up. ‘There’s something I have to tell you. It’s not about swimming, or music. It’s about me … moving on.’ I didn’t say a word. ‘I told you already I won’t be here for ever.’ There was a long silence. ‘Are you listening, Niilo?’

  I didn’t move. For all he knew I could have been under the bed with my head under the pillow, so I blanked his words. I thought he was going to come clean about his huge scar, or witter on about playing in a band, but Hannu didn’t tell me anything.

  ‘Niilo?’ he tried.

  I still didn’t move. I hardly breathed. He didn’t say anything after that, and after about ten minutes I heard his footsteps go off.

  Chapter Nine

  When I saw Hannu the next day he didn’t mention the thing he had to tell me. ‘You know,’ he said, when we were in the workshop together, pulling the green tops from the strawberries and tossing the red berries into a huge copper pan for jam making. ‘That smile suits you, Niilo. It’s like the sun has come out.’

  ‘I’ve been practising,’ I said. I felt in a good mood – I don’t know why, I just did.

  ‘What? Smiling?’

  I laughed. ‘No! Swimming. I’ve been lying on the floor, doing the strokes like you said. I think I could swim in the sea. If I wanted I could escape from this prison.’

  ‘You want that?’

  ‘Freedom,’ I said, as though that word said all the other words I couldn’t.

  Hannu had these dark eyes that saw right into you. ‘Like I said, Niilo,’ he said, giving me the serious look, ‘it’s in there.’ He pointed to my chest, meaning ‘heart’, I suppose.

  ‘Easy for you to say.’ I pointed my finger at him now. ‘You knock off at six. You jump on that ferry. You take days off. You zoom about on your motorbike. You listen to music. You play in a band. You go into bars. You smoke …’

  ‘I don’t smoke.’

  ‘Well, you could. You do whatever you feel like. Easy for you to say freedom’s in here.’ I whacked my chest hard.

  ‘Whoa, steady on.’ I saw a shadow flit over his face. Maybe he freaked at how hard I’d hit myself. I was going to do it again, so he grabbed my arm. ‘Look, Niilo, I know you’re angry. That’s okay. But don’t beat yourself up.’ He let my arm go and I let my arms flop. ‘You and I need to sit down and have a chat. There’s something I need to tell you. I tried—’

  But I interrupted. Whatever Hannu needed to tell me, something told me I didn’t want to hear it. Something deep inside. ‘I could find old man Vainamoinen,’ I blurted out. ‘I’ll find Ahtola, and I’ll escape from this hole. I’ll do what I want. Vainamoinen can be my dad. Then I’ll find my seal skin and put it on. Then, whooo, off I go, under the waves.’

  Hannu smiled. Maybe he forgot whatever it was he was going to tell me. ‘Hey!’ he said. ‘So you like my stories, huh? Thought you said they were rubbish too, like the island.’

  I shrugged and shoved a huge strawberry into my mouth. Then I suddenly lunged at Hannu as though I was going to punch him. Hannu drew back, then laughed as I did, but I knew I’d scared him. ‘Or maybe,’ I said, doing a funny dance around the table, ‘I’ll find pirates and live with them. Sail the seven seas and all that. That’s the kind of life I want. Always going places. Never hanging around. Nobody telling you what to do.’

  ‘And wearing a black patch over your eye?’ Hannu winked at me. ‘Drifting with the tides. Drinking rum, and pretty girls in every port. That’s the life.’ He pulled the top from a strawberry and lifted the bright red berry into the air. ‘My girlfriend likes these …’ His voice trailed off and he started whistling a pop song.

  I stopped my daft pirate jig, letting the strawberry that was in my hand fall back onto the huge chopping board. ‘You look too old for girlfriends.’

  ‘Hey, I’m only thirty-three. That’s not old.’ Hannu shook his black hair back and jutted out his chin, like he was showing me how young and handsome he was, but I saw worry flash through his dark eyes and I saw how he bit his lip. ‘I thought I’d mentioned her before. Actually, Niilo, we’re getting married soon. That’s part of—’

  ‘Nice.’ I stared at him, hardening my eyes, dropping the smile. ‘Probably I wasn’t listening. Probably you did mention her, and I didn’t care.’ I threw a strawberry into the pot.

  ‘Listen to me, Niilo. I’ll be leaving soon. My girlfriend has a job further north so I’ll be going away from here. I need you to know that, Niilo. And you’re doing really well.’

  I shrugged like I didn’t care what he was saying. And we worked at these blood-red strawberries for ages. We cut the berries up but it was the air between us you could have chopped.

  Suddenly Hannu blurted out, ‘Saara.’

  I frowned, like I didn’t know what he was talking about.

  ‘That’s her name.’ Hannu sounded apologetic. ‘I mean, my girlfriend. She’s called Saara, and she likes strawberries. We’ll have one of these strawberry chocolate-fountain things at the wedding. You could come along, maybe? My band will be playing. Not me, though. I mean, you couldn’t exactly play at your own wedding, eh? They’ll have to find another bass player.’

  I made like I wasn’t listening. But inside me the big black hole had come in again and I was sinking down into it fast. Hannu was going away. He was the only teacher in this place who bothered about me and he was getting off this prison island, like everybody else did – except me.

  Hannu said nothing more about weddings and the two of us worked in silence, throwing strawberries in
to the huge pot, pouring in sugar, stirring the sugar into the berries, then turning the gas ring on and hoisting the heavy pan over to the cooker. There was comfort in having something to get on with, but the silence between us was awkward. I knew I was over-reacting – why shouldn’t Hannu have a life? – but I couldn’t help it. I tried to drum some sense into my brain, but it wasn’t working. I felt as though I had crawled into my capsule and sailed off a thousand miles. Hannu chewed his lip. Sometimes he looked at me, but I always looked away fast. Twice, he cleared his throat, as though he was getting ready to speak, but the words died in his throat. When finally he did speak, all he said was, ‘So, Niilo, you going to stir this jam or just stare at it?’

  I dunked my wooden spoon in the huge copper pot and mashed the sugar and strawberries together, harder than I needed to. The red juice splatted out of the skins like bright blood.

  ‘Hey, Niilo,’ Hannu said, ‘I have good news.’

  I kept jabbing into the strawberries.

  ‘We’ll have strawberry jam for supper.’

  ‘Big deal.’

  ‘And I got more.’ Hannu sounded excited. ‘Yeah, wait for it, Niilo. This is really good news.’ He cleared his throat and I knew he was waiting for me to look round at him. When I didn’t, Hannu carried on, ‘Yeah, seriously good news. The boss says, now it’s warmer, and now you are showing an interest in swimming, I can take you swimming in the sea!’

  I said nothing for a while, but stopped bashing the strawberries. I swallowed hard and felt my heartbeat race. The sea. The thing I hated most was the thing that would take me to freedom. I pushed down the panic that was rising from my gut. I was tough. I was hard. And, whatever it took, I was going to show Hannu that I could swim in the sea. I nodded my head and stared into the red mush. ‘Cool,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Yeah,’ Hannu said. ‘I thought you’d like it. You have to wear a buoyancy aid to keep you afloat. That’s the rules. But if you’re okay with that we can go tomorrow. Management say you’re doing well.’