by Helle Helle
‘Let’s go home and take our clothes off,’ he said and put his hand in mine. We traipsed along the verge side by side in our wellies.
From the window all the fields were brown and black, the woods had lost the last of their colour too. Some crows took off one after another as a minibus came down from the main road. His body was warm to snuggle up to, he had good circulation. I liked the way his eyebrows tensed when he was enjoying it most, his face collapsed above me. Then the crows landed one by one. After a bit they were all together on the road again, striding about and pecking.
‘Are your mum and dad in?’ I asked.
‘No, they’re at a do.’
‘At this time of day?’
‘A lunch.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘They won’t be back for hours.’
‘Do they teach at the same school?’
‘No, they didn’t want to. It’d be asking for trouble.’
‘Yeah, I suppose it would.’
‘But that’s not where the lunch is.’
‘Where?’
‘At one of the schools.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘It’s at the beekeepers’ association.’
‘I didn’t know you had bees.’
‘We don’t. Only the ones that happen by. It’s years since we had bees, they’re too much work.’
‘Oh, I see.’
He took a very long shower. I lay listening to him as the water rushed in the pipes. Every now and then he groaned with satisfaction. I wondered if he would have done the same if I hadn’t been there. I got out of bed and put my trousers and top on, steam billowed from the bathroom. He stood with his eyes closed under the shower. I sat on the narrow windowsill and leaned my head against the pane. They still had last year’s Christmas tree on the patio, it didn’t have a needle left. It looked like it had been a Norway spruce. Eventually, the water stopped. He turned to get his towel and smiled at me across the room in surprise.
‘Are you up and dressed?’
‘It was only for a minute,’ I said.
As we lay in bed again a bit later, the Volvo rumbled across the cobbles in the yard. Per’s parents came tramping cheerfully into the house, and after a bit the smell of coffee rose up through the floorboards. We went down and joined them. Much, much later that same evening we had lamb shank in the kitchen, all four of us. I’d had lamb once before at Dorte’s, a funeral lamb instead of Halkidiki. She’d just ditched her removal man, they were supposed to have gone there together. In the end it was only the two of us. There was a side salad of cucumber and feta. We sat for a long time just looking at it all.
‘What appetites we’ve not got!’ she said and lit a cigarette. She’d been on the sunbeds for a fortnight at Health & Beauty just to be ready. Her voice and colour were from different worlds.
8.
After lunch on the Sunday I had a burst of efficiency despite being tired. I hadn’t slept properly for two nights by then. I lugged my dirty washing in a bin bag along the main street towards the church, then down a little hill to a corner where I was sure there was a launderette, only there wasn’t. There wasn’t even a corner, just a patch of grass with a sandpit and a swing. Two girls were sitting on a bench smoking, they’d never heard of any launderette. One of them said there was a tailor’s where they did dry-cleaning. She had new white pumps on and got the other girl to stamp out her cigarette. The other girl thought there might be a launderette by a block of flats in Sorø. She wouldn’t swear on it, but she was fairly sure. It was because her uncle lived in Sorø. As they spoke I realised I didn’t have any change. I’d used it all up paying for my railcard the day before. I trudged back up the little hill past the old merchant’s house and along the main street. The bookshop window was decked out with magazines and woolly socks, apparently the socks were knitted by a local woman. They were striped and came in all different sizes. I’d been in on the Friday to buy some fine-tipped marker pens. The woman asked if I meant fell-tips. She laid out a selection on the counter and I bought two so as not to look stingy.
I carried the bin bag slung over my shoulder. It was heavy, full of towels and trousers and tops, colours the lot of it. I’d imagined there was enough for two loads. Now I went home and filled the bath with hot water and soap powder. I emptied the bin bag into the water and separated the clothes with a big wooden spoon, then left it all to soak.
In the front room I emptied a removal box and put the contents away in the drawers and at the bottom of the wardrobe in the bedroom. I made myself a cup of coffee and drank it standing up by the worktop in the kitchen, then I went and rinsed the clothes and wrung them out. It was hard work, especially the jeans. My hands were bright red and my knuckles all sore by the time I stood at the clothes line with the washing in an old tub I’d found in the shed. It was a bit dirty, but it couldn’t be helped. There was just enough room on the clothes line if I hung everything by the narrow end. I had one big bath towel and two small fawn-coloured ones with an advert for some coffee on them. I went into the shed and tidied up a bit, stacked some old flowerpots so they took up half the space, threw a pile of damp newspapers in the bin. The sky was very dark. Afterwards, as I stood with another cup of coffee in the kitchen, it began to rain. Just a bit at first, but then in no time it was lashing against the windows. I dashed out into the garden and snatched the washing from the line and dumped the lot in the utility room.
Later that afternoon I hung the clothes over all the chairs, the chest of drawers and the radiator, and turned the heating on full. The front room filled with the smell of fabric softener and I opened the window a bit. I went and lay down on the bed and pulled the duvet up over my head. When I woke up it was getting dark. I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. As I stood there with my mouth full of toothpaste, there was a knock on the door. It was a young couple in raincoats with an empty picnic basket. They wanted to know if they could use the phone.
‘There’s one over there,’ I said and nodded towards the station.
‘It’s out of order,’ said the girl. ‘That’s why we’re asking.’
‘We forgot to get off the train at Lundby, we only need to get a message to her brother. He’s waiting for us,’ said the guy.
‘But I haven’t got a telephone. I’ve only just moved in.’
‘So has he. That’s why we forgot to get off. Not here, like,’ said the girl and scratched her thigh. She was wearing white jeans with grass stains on.
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘We think it’s because it hasn’t been emptied,’ he said. ‘Anyway, soggy to bother you.’
The girl laughed and shook her head at him. She lifted up the basket apologetically.
‘We’ve been at Knuthenborg Safari Park since ten this morning.’
‘Perhaps you can ask the people who live above the station,’ I said. ‘I know someone lives there.’
‘We will. Thanks a lot for your help,’ they said almost at the same time, and stepped down onto the path. They turned and waved, raincoats standing out in the fading light.
I didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt I should wash my hair. I realised I hadn’t had my dinner. I went into the kitchen and opened all the cupboards. There was some pasta and pitta bread and several cans of tuna, but nothing I really fancied. I went into the front room and looked across at the station. There was a light on upstairs, but I couldn’t see anyone there. I stuffed a hundred-krone note in my pocket together with my front-door key, pulled on a jumper and shut the door behind me.
The snack bar was a sausage stand with a wooden extension, in the car park next to the baker’s. I bought a hamburger and some chips and carried the box home in both hands with steam coming out of the holes in the lid. As I got to the house I saw a young woman come out of my front garden and walk slowly back in the direction of the station. She stopped and pulled her sleeves down over her hands and glanced back towards the house. She straightened up and folded her arms as soon as she saw me. I di
dn’t know whether to say hello or not. I turned up the path with my takeaway, but then she hurried over.
‘Hey, excuse me.’
She had wet hair and a shrill voice.
‘It’s not on, you know, sending people over to ours to use the phone.’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ I said.
‘We can’t have people knocking on the door thinking they can just come in and make a call whenever it suits them, they can go to the petrol station instead.’
‘I really am sorry.’
‘Or the one by the church. It’s only a little walk, if they really need to call someone.’
‘Of course.’
‘Besides, I was in the middle of something,’ she said, gathering her oversized jumper around her.
‘I’m really sorry.’
‘Well, then.’
She nodded, then turned and went back towards the station. On the step under the lamp the young couple with the picnic basket stood looking across at me. The girl waved. I lifted my takeaway to wave back, the girl said something to her boyfriend, then they came towards me. I sent them a bewildered look I thought could be seen from a distance, but before I knew it they were standing there in front of me, and the girl was all smiles.
‘It’s so nice of you, really,’ she said.
9.
So there I sat in the front room with my chips and this young couple, surrounded by all my washing. I’d left the hamburger on the worktop in the kitchen. They both sat on the edge of their chairs, the girl jiggled her foot up and down, the table kept trembling. Perhaps I hadn’t tightened the screws properly, it felt a bit rickety.
‘Help yourselves,’ I said.
‘Thanks,’ said her boyfriend without taking any.
‘Our train’s at twenty past ten,’ said the girl.
He looked at his watch.
‘Exactly one hour and fifty minutes.’
‘Did you get hold of your brother?’ I said.
‘Yes. He was supposed to pick us up in Lundby,’ said the girl.
‘Yes, you said,’ I said, and she nodded.
‘He’s only just moved there. We’re from Sundbyvester actually. All of us, I mean,’ she said, jiggling away. The whole table was shaking.
‘All three of you?’ I said.
‘Four, actually. He’s got a boy aged two,’ said her boyfriend.
‘What a lot of you,’ I said.
‘We were going to see his new house on the way back. But now we’re just going to go home,’ she said.
‘Your foot, love,’ he said, and she smiled. She had such a nice smile, then after that we were quiet for a bit.
The Hamburg express came thundering through. I’d eaten less than a quarter of the chips, the boyfriend had eaten one.
‘You forgot your hamburger,’ the girl said to me.
‘Oh, yes. Do you want it?’
‘No, you have it. We’ve eaten loads today, we’re not at all hungry.’
‘Me neither.’
‘You can take it with you for your lunch tomorrow,’ said the guy.
‘What sort of job do you do?’ said the girl.
‘I’m a student. In Copenhagen.’
‘Really? Handy living here, then.’
‘Yes, it is,’ I said, and they both nodded. They were leaning slightly over the table with their hands in their laps.
They told me about their trip to Knuthenborg and all the animals they’d seen. They went there once a year, his aunt lived near Nakskov and they always went in her car. It was an Opel registered for commercial use, she had a domestic cleaning business. Normally they went in the summer, but his aunt had broken her wrist falling down a slope at Nakskov Fjord, she thought she’d seen a man she knew. It was a complicated fracture, they didn’t even discover it for a few days. She’d got poorly and had to stay in bed with her arm full of fluid. People kept ringing to ask when she was coming to do their cleaning. Eventually she managed to drive to Stokkemarke and do the floors in two bungalows. Her arm was in plaster for six weeks, she couldn’t do a thing with it afterwards. She’d only just started driving again, which was why their trip to Knuthenborg had been put off.
‘She lost a lot of customers while she was off sick,’ he said.
‘She’s eight per cent invalid now, but she can’t do without her hand,’ said the girl.
‘Who can?’ he said and they both nodded. After that we were quiet again for a bit.
‘What do you do, anyway?’ I asked.
‘We’ve got summer jobs in the Tivoli Gardens,’ he said. ‘I sell snacks and she’s on Hook-a-Duck.’
‘That’s how we met, two years and three months ago. I can hardly believe it,’ she said, and he ruffled her hair.
‘You got hooked yourself.’
‘Ha, ha,’ she said and ruffled back. Then she cleared her throat. ‘No, really. Tivoli’s the best job in the world. There’s no two days alike.’
‘Shame about the rest of the year, though,’ he said, and she gave him a shove.
‘Ha, ha, ha.’
We decided to watch TV. I had three channels, but there was nothing on. Even so, we ended up watching a programme about silent movies. She snuggled up to him and put her head on his shoulder, I could tell she was struggling to stay awake. When the programme finished I got up.
‘We’d best get to the train in good time,’ I said.
‘Are you going to walk us over? Thanks ever so much,’ said the girl. They jumped to their feet and got into their muddy trainers. There was still plenty of time as we said goodbye on the platform. I waved again when I crossed over the tracks. They waved back, then he found something in his raincoat pocket that distracted them. I sneaked a look at the timetable on the board. It was Sunday and there were no more trains. They realised the same thing a moment later and caught me up on my front path looking sheepish. I put the key in the door and the girl put a hand on my shoulder and thanked me for being so kind. I answered without turning round.
‘It’s nothing, really.’
‘Oh, but it is,’ she said.
‘We can lie on our raincoats in the front room,’ he said.
‘There’s carpet in there,’ said the girl. ‘The coats will do for covers.’
‘I’ve got some old blankets somewhere.’
‘We can all go in together in the morning,’ said the girl. ‘What time’s your train? We’ll sit quiet, I promise.’
‘If there’s something you need to read or something, she means.’
‘Just after nine,’ I said.
10.
I slept soundly that night. I didn’t hear a peep from the couple in the front room, or from the trains, or the boiler in the utility room next door. It must have kicked in during the night, the place was sweltering when I woke up. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. It was light outside and the sky was blue. I stared emptily at the bark of the old pear tree for a minute, then came another gentle knock on the door and after a second it opened.
‘Morning,’ whispered the girl. ‘Just to say it’s half past eight.’
She was already in her raincoat and her boyfriend was standing behind her with his round, smiling face.
‘I hope you don’t mind, but we made some coffee. Here you go,’ he said, handing me a mug. I jumped out of bed in my nightshirt.
‘Thanks.’
‘We weren’t sure whether to wake you earlier. We thought you might be the kind of person who got ready in no time.’
‘That’s all right,’ I said, and took a slurp. It was really strong. They stood watching me.
‘Sorry, I’m still half asleep,’ I said.
‘We’ll just wait outside in the garden,’ said the girl.
‘It’s a lovely sunny day, it’s not often we get the chance to drink coffee outside in the mornings. Anyway, like she said, it’s only half eight,’ he said.
I could hear them talking in the front garden while I got dressed and tried to do my hair in the hall mirror. I felt hot and drowsy. They spoke in t
urn, but I couldn’t pick out the words. Once, I lay on a beach all day with the muffled voices of strangers all around me. Later I thought it had been so blissful lying there unnoticed in a hum of conversation. My hair wouldn’t do what I wanted, it stuck out on the side I’d slept on. I patted it down with some water and gathered it in a loose ponytail, then I got my leather jacket and went into the front room for my bag and a book. All the washing had been folded up in a neat pile on the table. The radiator was still on full blast, I turned it down and picked up my key from the chest of drawers, then went outside.
‘Was it five past nine it was due?’ said the girl, and I nodded.
‘Yes. Have you got tickets?’
‘No, we need to get some. Have you got enough money, Lasse?’ she said, and he had, at least almost, they only needed to borrow forty kroner when we got to the station. The train was on time but crowded. We went all the way through from one end to the other, but there were only two seats free that were next to each other.
‘You take it,’ she said to me. ‘I’ll sit on his knee.’
So I sat down by the window, Lasse sat beside me with her on his lap. Their raincoats rustled every time they moved. He blew her hair away from his face. I reached into my bag for my book, opened it, then stared out at the reddening fringe of a wood and some gulls flocking in the fields. A bit later there were rooks and geese, a blue tractor left at a boundary with its door open and a man on his knees in the furrow. I saw him get up and shake his head in resignation, and then we’d gone past. After that nothing, then Ringsted’s array of rooftops.
11.
Per Finland’s mum was called Ruth, she edited a little periodical. She’d been allowed to use her school’s copying facilities. Teachers and pupils and other people could have poems and short stories published in it. She sat at the table surrounded by sheets of paper and was in a quandary, a woodwork teacher had written a fairy tale in verse about Hans Christian Andersen. It wasn’t dreadful, but it wasn’t good enough to be included either. The periodical was even called The Duckling and she’d got the idea for it during the big flu epidemic the year before. She patted the seat of the chair next to her. I got up from the sofa and went and sat down beside her.