by Maria Parr
But the slippery surface ended outside Hagen’s Wellness Retreat. Mr Hagen had spread grit all over the road outside the holiday camp. It was icy again just beyond there, but it would be impossible to ride a sledge down the stretch with the grit on it.
“He might at least have left a small gap,” she sighed. But she was in too good a mood to feel angry. Soon she’d be seeing her friends!
She stopped by the gate. A lady wellness camper was there, getting her skis ready.
“Are you looking for the children?”
Astrid nodded.
“They’ve gone,” the lady said. “They left a short while ago.”
“But…” Astrid was stunned. “They didn’t say anything yesterday about leaving.”
The lady smiled sympathetically. “I don’t think they wanted to leave.”
Astrid leant a little to one side so she could see past the lady and into the holiday camp. Mr Hagen was at the reception window. When Astrid spotted him, he turned away. Surely not! She opened the gate with a clatter. Soon she was standing face to face with Mr Hagen. Or more accurately, face to stomach with Mr Hagen, since Astrid was quite small compared with him.
“Are you here to complain about the grit on the road?” he asked. If only he knew how little Astrid Glimmerdal cared about that grit of his.
“Have you kicked them out?”
Astrid’s voice was so hurt that Mr Hagen looked down busily at his papers.
“Children aren’t allowed here. I gave them one chance, and they thoroughly abused it,” he blustered. “You were making a terrible racket the whole day yesterday with that sledging of yours! It was unbearable.”
Mr Hagen was probably expecting Astrid to explode, to shout at him or throw things on the floor, or do something else that would give him an excuse to get angry with her. But Astrid didn’t shout or throw anything. She did something even worse. She did nothing.
Mr Hagen had to stand there and watch as Astrid Glimmerdal turned round and trudged out of reception. Then Mr Hagen had to watch through the window as she wiped her eyes with her mitten and the kind lady with the skis stroked her face. Finally he had to watch as Astrid walked out through the gate and trudged back up Glimmerdal Road with her head bowed. Instead of the angry child he’d been expecting, Mr Hagen saw a heartbroken one, and that was enough to move even him. Especially on that day, when he’d already seen quite a few heartbroken children. He suddenly felt like a real lowlife as he stood there by the window.
It was no longer a diamond day. Astrid walked back through the enchanted forest, fighting tears. When she reached Gunnvald’s place, she saw that his garage was empty. He was probably down at the shop, buying some snus. Astrid kicked the snow off her boots and went into the kitchen. She stood in the middle of the room, wondering what she should do now. It was so quiet that she could hear Gunnvald’s home-made clock ticking. It was a quarter to eleven. She sat down in the rocking chair and rocked back and forth. Now it was fourteen minutes to eleven. Astrid leapt out of the chair as abruptly as if she’d sat on a drawing pin. Fourteen minutes to eleven! That meant there were fourteen minutes until the boat left. That meant that Ola, Broder, Birgitte and their mum were still down at the ferry landing. Suddenly Astrid knew she had to go and say goodbye.
But fourteen minutes! She needed a car. Where could she get one if Gunnvald wasn’t here?
“Dad!”
But no, even if her dad would drive her, they’d never make it in fourteen minutes if she had to run all the way home first. Before Astrid could finish that thought, she’d already dashed into the workshop and fetched the super-duper sledge – the one with the best runners.
And that’s when the famous story began.
Because Astrid Glimmerdal managed to get the sledge going flat out that morning. She went like lightning down the slope towards the bridge over the river. After all the testing, she’d become a skilled sledger, but that wasn’t the only thing: the runners were freshly polished, the road was as slippery as soap, and the pilot was fearless. Astrid went so fast that not even Sally spotted the dark shadow zooming past her house and into the enchanted forest at eleven minutes to eleven, making an almost supernatural shwoom.
Astrid couldn’t hear anything apart from the wind and couldn’t feel anything apart from the sledge shaking. And it was only when she saw the holiday camp that she remembered this sledge was still missing brakes. Her hands started to sweat, in spite of the cold air. What about the grit? She was going to get badly injured!
She didn’t really know why she didn’t try to stop. It could all end very badly, but she still leant forward, eyes narrowed. Speed and self-confidence. The sledge was now going even faster. The gritted stretch of road was coming towards her, right in her path. Astrid tilted hard to the left and felt the sledge tip over onto one runner. She steered the other runner up onto the bank of snow at the side of the road. There was a terrible jolt when metal hit grit, but because Astrid was practically lying horizontally, only one of the runners bore the brunt. She sped past the grit and came back down onto the road with a thump. She’d done it!
Still racing at a good speed, she flew past the place where Peter usually stood with his walkie-talkie. From then on, Astrid and the super-sledge were in uncharted territory. She came to a gradual incline: a long uphill slope that nobody had ever managed to climb on a sledge before. Astrid had no idea what time it was. She leant even further forward, her eyes half-open. She was slowing down.
“Come on!” she whispered. “I’ve got to catch the boat!”
She could see the top of the hill. It seemed impossible, but perhaps she was going to make it. Astrid willed the sledge up the hill. And, believe it or not, just before the sledge came to a complete stop, Astrid Glimmerdal edged over the brow of the hill and sped up again.
Now she was down by the other houses, and it was high time to stop, but Astrid still needed to reach the water! She sped past Theo’s hair salon, past the shop and the closed-down snack bar. Then, finally: there was the ferry ramp.
It was as if something went click in Astrid’s head, bringing her to her senses. Brake! The little thunderbolt of Glimmerdal dug both heels into the ground. But it was too late. She skidded towards the ramp at one heck of a speed.
The only child in Glimmerdal realized that she would have to throw herself off the sledge, otherwise Glimmerdal would end up with no children at all. But then, to her horror, she noticed that one of the straps on her jacket had wound itself around the steering column. She was stuck! Astrid pushed her feet even harder into the ground. She was almost down at the fjord. If she didn’t stop or overturn the sledge soon, there was only the ice-cold water of the Glimmerdal Fjord left.
“Heeeeeeeeeeeelp!” Astrid shouted, her whole body shaking and rattling. Her boots scraped against the uneven surface, leaving a smell of burnt rubber. She was going to end up in the water!
Then Astrid suddenly realized what might just save her. The high-speed ferry always docked bow first, with its wide ramp down to let passengers on and off. It was half a minute to eleven, and the crew hadn’t raised the gangway yet.
Astrid turned the steering wheel hard. “Make way!” she shouted to the passengers who were boarding.
They jumped to the sides. The ice beneath the sledge turned to metal. Skidding, scraping, her eyes shut, Astrid Glimmerdal slid up the gangway in an almighty shower of sparks. The horde of passengers watched the sledge and the girl in terror.
Then everything went completely silent. Astrid’s heart was running like a hamster in her chest.
“Phew!” was all she managed to say.
There was a real commotion at the quayside that Monday morning when people found out that the little thunderbolt of Glimmerdal had driven one of Gunnvald’s new sledges all the way down to the water’s edge. Theo, the hairdresser, abandoned a perm he was doing; Able Seaman Jon took off his ticket bag; and the ferry passengers wanted to hear all about it. Even Nils, who was out for a stroll with his walking frame, stagg
ered down to the gangway. But Ola, Broder, Birgitte and their mum stood a little to one side with all their bags, ready to go, so Astrid let sledges be sledges and went over to them.
“I don’t think Hagen’s Wellness Retreat is the place for us,” the children’s mum said when she saw the despair in the sledge pilot’s eyes. Astrid had just opened her mouth to protest, when suddenly she heard Gunnvald’s booming voice behind her. He’d just arrived from the shop.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
“Astrid rode her sledge all the way down to the fjord!” Ola shouted.
Gunnvald lifted Astrid up by the tops of her arms, swinging her into the air so he could look her straight in the eye. “Is this true?” he asked.
Astrid nodded as she dangled there.
“But my dear little troll, my brave test pilot, why aren’t you smiling?” he asked. Then he saw the little family had their bags with them.
It’s hard to know exactly what Gunnvald would’ve said to Klaus Hagen if he’d been there at that very moment, but it wouldn’t have been anything nice, that’s for sure.
“That snake has gone too far this time,” he muttered. Then he looked straight at Astrid. “You mustn’t be upset on a day like this, Astrid. Blooming brambles, we can jolly well start our own wellness camp.”
So that’s how Gunnvald ended up inviting the little family to stay with him for the rest of their holiday. Free of charge. There were seventeen unused rooms in his house, he said, and Astrid knew that was true. Gunnvald’s grandfather hadn’t stopped with the summerhouse. He’d hammered and bashed and carpentered away for the beautiful Madelene Katrine Benedicte all his life. Eventually their house was as large as a hotel.
“There’s heaps of space,” Astrid agreed.
Of course, it took some persuading to convince Ola, Broder and Birgitte’s mum. You can’t simply accept such a generous offer like that straight away. But Gunnvald was crystal clear: it would be great to have people staying in his house. Besides, he said, he thought Astrid could do with some relief, since she had to put up with such an ancient best friend for the rest of the year.
If Astrid hadn’t already been sure that Gunnvald was the best best friend in the whole world, she was sure of it now.
“What would I do without you, Gunnvald?” she said, smiling, as he put her back down.
The rest of the holiday was as fantastic as only a winter break in Glimmerdal can be. It goes without saying: new friends, sledging, bonfires, big dinners, shouting, yelling and fiddle music.
But there was one person who couldn’t be merry all the time, and that was Gunnvald. Each night, after everybody had gone to bed, he sat in his kitchen with the letter in his hands, thinking. And each night, he started writing a reply. A reply that he threw in the bin every morning, running his hand roughly through his hair.
“Heidi…” he whispered on one of those mornings.
That little name trembled in the air. Nobody in Glimmerdal had spoken it for almost thirty years.
There’s a secret place in Glimmerdal. You have to follow the river upstream from Gunnvald’s farm all the way to Glimmerdal Shieling, the mountain pasture where the animals graze in summer, and then even further up. But it’s impossible to find the secret place if you don’t know where it is. And nobody in Glimmerdal knows. Not even Astrid. Nobody’s been to that place for almost thirty years.
And in a city far away from Glimmerdal, somebody has been longing to return to that secret place every day for all those years.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In which Gunnvald and Astrid move
Gladiator to the summer barn, and
there is an accident with a coffee pot
It was almost March. The snow was melting on the south-facing slopes. The holidaymakers had left and promised to come back at Easter. The sun was shining for longer every day and there was a hint of spring in the air that made your legs tingle. But not everybody felt like that. For Gunnvald, it was as if the gloom of winter had stuck and wouldn’t let go.
Quite often when Astrid came over, he would just be sitting there, staring out of the window.
“What are you thinking about?” Astrid would ask him.
“Humph,” was all Gunnvald would say.
One day, when she came barging in through the door without knocking, some photographs were laid out on the kitchen table. As soon as Astrid appeared, Gunnvald swept them all up.
“What were those photos of?” she asked.
“Humph,” said Gunnvald.
Another day, Gunnvald was sitting there, reading a green book. He slammed it shut when Astrid came in and hid it under the table.
“What book’s that?” Astrid asked.
“Humph,” said Gunnvald.
“I think Gunnvald’s going senile, Dad,” Astrid told her father later. Her voice was sad. It’s not much fun if your best friend is going senile.
“Hmm,” said her dad.
Astrid stamped her foot, giving Snorri the hiccups. “Can’t people stop saying ‘humph’ and ‘hmm’ in this place!”
She might as well try to cheer up that old fool, Astrid thought to herself as she stood in the farmyard one day.
She’d dug out her bike for the first time that year. Snorri was hovering above her, making a racket. Back when they were teaching Snorri to fly, they used to sit him on Astrid’s cycling helmet. He would stay on her helmet until she’d got up enough speed that he could let go. Then he’d fly. But once you’ve taught a seagull to do something, that’s it. Snorri still came screeching every time Astrid took out her bike, even though he was no longer a little chick.
“You’re as heavy as a pregnant goose, Snorri,” Astrid grumbled. “Fly on your own!”
But Snorri grabbed on to her helmet, although he looked quite ruffled.
Gunnvald watched Astrid and Snorri’s pyramid on wheels as they rode up across his farmyard.
“Snorri’s brooding,” Astrid explained. “Sitting up there, he keeps my brain warm and makes ideas hatch straight out of my head.”
“Humph,” Gunnvald said grumpily. “Then maybe you and that rowdy seagull can hatch an idea about how I’m going to move Gladiator up to the summer barn without getting killed in the process. Eh?”
Astrid scratched her cheek for a moment. “That depends,” she mumbled, lifting Snorri down.
Gladiator is Gunnvald’s ram. He’d bought him in Barkvika the year before, and he’d been nothing but trouble ever since.
“That ram’s the worst deal I’ve ever made in my entire sorry life,” Gunnvald had said the first time they tried to get Gladiator into the barn. Astrid remembered that her dad and aunts had come over to lend a hand too.
Now Gladiator had to be moved back out of the main barn. It would be lambing season soon, so more space was needed inside. Astrid asked Gunnvald whether they shouldn’t just fetch her dad, like they’d done when Gladiator had to go inside. Surely they could coax him out again if they did it as a team, she thought.
“Nah,” Gunnvald grunted. “Creeping cranberries, I should jolly well be able to move my own ram. I just need some more coffee first.” He went inside.
Astrid sat there, peering up at the field where the summer barn was. Imagine the ram having a whole little barn to himself instead of having to listen to the gossiping of a mob of pregnant ewes. Any reasonable ram would volunteer to go up there.
“Can it really be that hard?” she muttered to herself.
Gunnvald’s barn is a merry mess, with junk and hay all piled on top of each other. But the sheep like it. Astrid said hello to some of them, then she scooped some sheep nuts into the bottom of a bucket and walked over to Gladiator’s pen. His eyes were bright green in the semi-darkness. He had an enormous head. It grew even larger as he came closer to find out who Astrid was.
“Squaaawk!” Snorri screeched behind her.
“Shut your beak! You’ll only annoy him!” Astrid’s voice was stern. She turned back towards Gladiator. “Listen here, you beas
t: the sun’s shining outside, and just behind the farmhouse there’s a fantastic holiday palace for you. Come on, now.”
She opened the pen with trembling hands, slowly stepping backwards while shaking the bucket. Gladiator heard the wonderful sound of treats and followed her at a steady pace. Astrid pushed the barn door open with her backside and reversed out into the spring air. Poor Gladiator: he hadn’t seen the sun for many months. Blinded, he stood in the doorway, squinting. Astrid had to shake the feed bucket even harder so he could follow the sound.
She felt quite pleased with herself as she opened the gate to the field. Gladiator was still following her as obediently as a lamb.
“I sure have a way with animals,” Astrid boasted to Snorri, who was sitting on a gatepost, watching closely.
But then things stopped going according to plan. No sooner had Astrid opened the gate than Gladiator shoved her from the side, almost knocking her over. That maniac had got his eyesight back!
“Uh-oh,” Astrid whispered, starting to walk faster.
The ram kept on nudging her, and eventually Astrid realized that she’d have to run away if she wanted to avoid being butted hard. Her lion curls danced in the spring sunshine as she legged it towards the summer barn, Gladiator following in hot pursuit.
“The bucket,” Astrid sighed.
What a fool she was. It was no wonder he was chasing her. With a mighty fling, she threw the bucket as far as she could, sending sheep nuts scattering right across the field. But Gladiator didn’t give a lemming’s tail about that now: all he wanted was to catch Astrid. Maybe he was like a bull and just ran after anything red?
“Your hair’s as red as a barn door at sunset,” Astrid’s granny had once told her. At the time, Astrid had been sure that nothing lovelier had ever been said to anybody on the planet since records began. But right now she wished she had black or white or brown hair. She would even have made do with grey hair at that moment.