by Maria Parr
Gunnvald gave in and picked up the telephone.
Astrid would never have thought someone could tremble so much. She sat close to him, holding his free hand as he dialled the number on his big old telephone. It rang once. Neither Astrid nor Gunnvald was breathing. It rang a second time. Astrid gulped, and Gunnvald slowly shifted his weight. It rang a third time, and then they heard a crackle at the other end.
“Hello, this is Heidi.”
Gunnvald’s body froze stiff like a fork.
“Hello? Who is it?” asked Heidi.
Astrid prodded Gunnvald and looked at him urgently. He opened his mouth wide, but not a sound came out.
“Gunnvald!” Astrid whispered desperately, shaking him.
He opened and closed his mouth three more times. And then he hung up, slamming down the receiver.
Astrid couldn’t believe it. She stared at the telephone and then at Gunnvald. “You oaf!” she blurted out. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Gunnvald put his elbows on the table and buried his head in his enormous hands. “I don’t know what to say, Astrid. I have no idea how to say what I need to say.”
Behind his hands, he was totally crushed. Astrid slumped and looked out of the window. What now, then? Why did everything have to be so difficult?
She turned round and stared at Gunnvald again. Then she climbed up onto her chair to reach the fiddle and put it on the table in front of them. “Go on then, play.”
Astrid dialled the number on the scrap of paper one more time, and when she heard a slightly impatient Heidi answer, she nodded to Gunnvald. Then she lifted up her arm and held out the receiver at the same time as the old troll of Glimmerdal lifted his fiddle and brought the bow up to the strings.
Astrid had heard Gunnvald play many times. His music had been in the air around her all her life, for as long as she could remember, but she’d never heard Gunnvald play like he was doing now. He was stood there in the kitchen, as usual. His hair was tousled, as usual. His eyes were closed, as usual. But what came out of his fiddle wasn’t the same as usual. It was as if Gunnvald were putting his whole heart into the music. He was playing for Heidi. And he played for a long time. Gunnvald played out all he had inside him.
When he finished, it was quieter than Astrid could ever remember anything being before. Shaking, she lifted the receiver up to her ear.
Click.
Heidi had hung up.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
In which everybody, apart
from Ola, goes to church
“No, I don’t want to!”
Ola was in the corner of the kitchen. He’d put on a shirt and tie, but he wasn’t going any further. He didn’t want to go to church under any circumstances.
“The choir’s going to sing, and Gunnvald’s going to play his fiddle. It’ll be fun,” Astrid insisted.
“I’ve been to church before!” said Ola. “It’s not fun. It’s blinking boring.”
Astrid sighed. Ola grabbed the large bread knife that was on the kitchen worktop and waved it in the air. “I’ll guard the house.”
“As you wish,” she said.
It was beautiful outside the church in Barkvika. The sun made the yellow daffodils shine. Astrid noticed that people were happy when they saw Gunnvald had his fiddle case with him. But Gunnvald wasn’t smiling. He just stood there, glaring in the sunlight with his fiddle case in his hand, his shoulders hunched over as if he were broken. He’d hardly said a word since the phone had gone click the day before.
When everybody had gone inside, Astrid took him by the hand. “Gunnvald?”
“Mmm?”
“At least you’ve called her now.”
They both stopped there. Gunnvald crouched down, his thigh creaking, and he placed his two gigantic hands on Astrid’s shoulders.
“What would I do without you, Astrid Glimmerdal?”
Astrid tried to shrug her shoulders, but it wasn’t exactly easy with such enormous hands resting there. “You’d probably drop down dead,” she said.
Gunnvald laughed. “I probably would,” he roared. “I probably would.”
Then Astrid and Gunnvald went inside too.
Astrid liked going to church, when she could just sit in peace up there in the gallery, as she was doing now, looking at all the strange and beautiful things. She sat with her chin on the railing, gazing out across all the heads down below. She could see Broder and Birgitte, and their mother, together with her own mum and dad, and her aunts. Her granny and grandpa were also there. Later that evening would be the big party. Astrid was looking forward to it.
Gunnvald had already played several times during the service. Astrid thought his suit trousers were maybe looking even shorter than usual, but at least he’d sort of combed his hair.
Then came the last hymn that everybody would have to sing: “Easter Morrow Stills Our Sorrow”. While Astrid was singing in a resounding voice, she suddenly became aware of somebody standing behind her. She could sense it. She turned round in surprise, and there, in the shadows by the stairs, was a person. A tall person.
“Heidi,” Astrid whispered, her mouth wide open.
Heidi went up to where Astrid was sitting. She stood there as if she had turned to stone, staring down at the nave of the church. She watched Gunnvald play “Easter Morrow Stills Our Sorrow”. She watched Gunnvald let the last quivering note wind its way through the chandeliers. She watched Gunnvald as he lowered his instrument and then stood there with his fiddle hanging in one hand and his bow in the other, while Liv, the church minister, thanked everybody for coming and blessed the congregation. Heidi watched Gunnvald as the church bells rang three sets of three peals. The congregation sat down, and Liv nodded to Gunnvald and the choir from Barkvika, giving them the signal to start playing the postlude, the final tune. But then Heidi stopped watching Gunnvald. She went back into the shadows by the stairs.
Astrid thought that Heidi was about to go. She couldn’t! Astrid was just about to shout out to her when she saw that Heidi wasn’t leaving. Instead Heidi bent down in the shadows and picked something up.
Gunnvald and the choir from Barkvika had got about halfway through the postlude when it happened. To begin with, nobody reacted, not even Gunnvald. But gradually people started to look around in astonishment. Fiddle music was coming from somewhere, matching Gunnvald’s playing note for note, and doubling the volume.
Astrid watched as Gunnvald, without pausing, opened his eyes in amazement and lifted up his head. Then his bow stopped moving. For a moment, Astrid was afraid his heart might stop too. He stood frozen. But then he closed his eyes tightly and started playing again, somehow. The music from the two instruments wove together around the choir’s singing, filling the church right up to the roof and out into the spring air. When they finished, it was so quiet that Astrid was scared to breathe. Nobody had heard music like that before. The whole choir stared up at the tall woman in the gallery. But she was still only looking at Gunnvald.
And then, like clouds parting in the sky, Heidi’s stern face opened up, letting out a short glimpse of a smile. Gunnvald, that stubborn old mule, just stood there, peering up at that smile from under his toothbrush-like eyebrows.
That was when Astrid Glimmerdal started clapping. She clapped like a madwoman. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy!
Astrid led Heidi through the crowd of people outside the church. Gunnvald had hardly dared to step outside. He stood at the church door, emotion written all over his face.
“Here she is,” announced Astrid.
Heidi smiled again, briefly. It seemed that neither she nor Gunnvald really knew what to say, but they didn’t have to spend too long thinking about it, because they all suddenly heard a colossal racket. A door slammed in the car park, someone shouted “Thanks for the lift!” so loudly that it echoed, and then the wrought-iron gate to the churchyard opened with a crash.
It was Ola. He ran between all the people. “Astrid!” His shirt was ha
nging out, and his tie was dangling behind him like a tail. “She’s come back! The monster woman’s come back!”
Ola grabbed Astrid’s arm. “That monster woman with the dog is—”
He stopped dead. The monster woman was standing right next to them. For a brief moment, he was completely silent, then he took in a breath and pointed furiously at Heidi.
“You sold the farm! I saw it with my own eyes!”
It was strangely quiet among the people outside the church: all eyes were on the little group with Ola and Heidi in the middle. Ola’s chest was rising and falling like a small set of bellows.
“She came up to the farm and asked for Gunnvald. I told her you were at church, and I was guarding the house. And I was too! I ran after her.”
Ola told Astrid that he’d gone spying to try and find out where Heidi had gone, and when he got down to the holiday camp, he saw that her car was there.
“I was lying in the flower bed and I heard it all. The window was open. She’s sold the farm! I was supposed to be on the lookout, but…”
Ola was so angry that he was crying. He managed to gasp in between his tears that he promised he’d run as fast as he could.
“But it was too late. That man at the holiday camp said thank you for doing business with him, and she said she hoped he was pleased.”
Then Ola couldn’t say any more. He roared instead and launched himself at the monster woman. Heidi stopped him as easily as she’d stopped Astrid that time she’d attacked her.
“Are you denying it?” Ola shouted furiously, as Heidi held him in her tight grip. “You wrote your name on a piece of paper and thanked him! Are you denying it?” he screamed.
Heidi put him down. “No, I’m not denying it, I…”
Gunnvald’s face had gone grey, and Astrid could feel all her strength leaving her.
“Heidi,” she whispered, “Mr Hagen is going to ruin everything. You promised not to do it.” Astrid couldn’t say any more.
Heidi swallowed. “Mr Hagen isn’t going to ruin—” she started.
“Yes, he is! You know it!” Astrid shouted, no longer trying to hold back the tears. She started sobbing uncontrollably, right outside the church.
“Stop crying; it’s not like that,” said Heidi, embarrassed as she looked at all the people around them. She dried away a couple of Astrid’s tears decisively.
“Stop crying, I said. I’ve bought the holiday camp, Astrid.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
In which two fiddles
play together
“Now things are going to get lively!” Auntie Eira shouted as the first car drove up into the farmyard.
And things really did get lively. Soon the whole house was full of people. Ola and Broder got to meet Andrea and the others from Astrid’s class, who had come all the way from Barkvika. Peter had brought old Nils and Granny Anna, and Astrid’s mum and dad had invited their friends. Sally came in her Sunday best. She’d bought Astrid an exquisite glass angel. It was a long time since so many people had been gathered up there.
The best thing of all was that Heidi was there. Astrid felt happy in her stomach every time she saw her. Heidi didn’t say very much, and neither did Gunnvald. But they had their fiddles. Later in the evening, Astrid’s dad cleared the living-room floor of furniture, and then Heidi and Gunnvald played dance music. Astrid took out her accordion and played with them.
“You sound like an asthmatic elephant!” Auntie Eira shouted, putting her hands over her ears.
“But I’m sure you’ll get better in time,” Auntie Idun reassured her.
When it was almost one o’clock and the first guests had gone home, Astrid, Broder and Ola settled down on the sofa where Heidi was sitting.
“Have you really, really bought the holiday camp?” Astrid asked.
Heidi nodded. It seemed Mr Hagen was fed up with Glimmerdal, she said. Ola looked in another direction.
“What?” he shouted angrily when he noticed that they were laughing. “How was I supposed to know? It’s hardly a normal thing to go and buy a wellness retreat, is it? What are you going to do with it, anyway?” he asked irritably.
“I thought I could run it, at least for some of the year,” said Heidi. “And then I’m sure I can find somebody to look after it when I’m away travelling.”
“Will children be allowed there?” Broder wondered.
“Yes.”
“Noisy ones too?” asked Ola.
“Especially noisy ones,” Heidi promised.
Ola smiled and leapt up off the sofa. “And tonight we’re going to sleep outside, aren’t we, Astrid?”
They were. You bet they were!
When the party quietened down, Ola and Broder ran over to Gunnvald and Heidi’s farm to fetch their woolly clothes, and Astrid had Heidi to herself for a little while.
“Are you going to spend any time with Gunnvald while you’re in Glimmerdal?” she asked. She couldn’t hide the worried tone in her voice.
Heidi glanced over at her gigantic father. He was chatting with Astrid’s mum and dad. “Yes, I think I will,” she said. “But I’ll see how I feel.”
Astrid nodded.
“You know, I’ve felt extremely angry at Gunnvald for almost thirty years,” said Heidi. “That’s not something you can switch off just like that.”
Astrid looked at Gunnvald and felt how terribly fond she was of him. Suddenly he turned towards the sofa where they were sitting. He put his hands in his suit trouser pockets and smiled.
“Gunnvald’s happy now,” Astrid told Heidi.
“You’re right,” said Heidi.
When the last guests had gone, Astrid took her sleeping bag with her out into the night. Ola and Broder had borrowed one each from Astrid’s aunts. Tired and joking about, they traipsed over to the edge of the forest, where they rolled out their ground mats on the soft moss. It was late, almost three o’clock.
“I’m going to stay up all night,” said Ola. He’d barely zipped up his sleeping bag before they heard him snoring.
“What a guy,” Broder mumbled, curling up. He gave Astrid one of his angelic smiles and was out like a light.
Astrid, ten years old, lay awake. The wind whispered and the river was singing in Glimmerdal but, after a while, she heard something else. She sat up slowly and looked over to the other side of the glen.
The summerhouse was lit up, and in the light there were two large silhouettes. Astrid snuggled back down into her sleeping bag, contented.
“What would they do without me?” she mumbled, closing her eyes.
And then the little thunderbolt of Glimmerdal fell asleep. The distant music of two fiddles mingled with the soothing sounds of the river, making miracle music in the spring night.
Maria Parr is an outstanding Norwegian children’s author. Her debut novel, Vaffelhjarte (Waffle Hearts), has been translated into twenty-six different languages, and won France’s Prix Sorcières in 2010, the Dutch Zilveren Griffel in 2008, and was shortlisted for the Marsh Award for Children’s Literature in Translation. It has also been made into a popular children’s television series in Norway. Her second novel, Tonje Glimmerdal (Astrid the Unstoppable), won the prestigious Brage Prize and the Norwegian Critics’ Prize in 2009. It has been translated into nineteen different languages and adapted for the stage. Maria lives in Norway with her family.
Guy Puzey grew up in the Highlands of Scotland, just a short swim away from Norway. He began translating Norwegian literature in 2006, having studied the language at the University of Edinburgh, where he now works as a lecturer in Scandinavian Studies, carrying out research and teaching subjects including Scandinavian linguistic history, children’s literature and literary translation. In 2015, he was shortlisted for the Marsh Award for Children’s Literature in Translation for his work on Maria Parr’s first novel, Waffle Hearts.
PRAISE FOR MARIA PARR
Astrid the Unstoppable
“As perfect as snowfall at Christmas. It’s classic storytell
ing
at its best, delightful and moving. Weaving fairy tales and
music into a modern story set in a mountainous winter
wonderland, with the fierce and passionate Astrid at
its heart, this is a very special story. I loved it.”
M. G. Leonard, author of Beetle Boy
Waffle Hearts
“Fans of Pippi Longstocking will love Waffle Hearts…
A truly enchanting book that is sure to become
a firm favourite with children.”
Outside/In World
“Makes the world a better place with peals
of laughter and inspirational generosity.”
We Love This Book
“Full of beauty, wit, wisdom and joy.”
Inis
“The kind of book that a child will
treasure … a real gem.”
The School Librarian
Also by Maria Parr
Waffle Hearts
The publication of this book has been made possible through
the financial support of NORLA, Norwegian Literature Abroad
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used
fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information
and material of any other kind contained herein are included for
entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for
accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.
First published in Great Britain 2017 by Walker Books Ltd
87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ
Copyright © 2009 Det Norske Samlaget, Oslo
Originally published as Tonje Glimmerdal by Det Norske Samlaget, Oslo
Published by agreement with Hagen Agency, Oslo
English language translation © 2017 Guy Puzey
Cover and chapter illustrations © 2017 Katie Harnett