The Summer House

by Philip Teir

  ‘Oh, it’s great to be on holiday,’ Erik said now. There was almost no traffic. Julia rummaged through the glove box for her sunglasses.

  ‘It’s important to make the drive at the right time,’ said Erik. ‘Everyone wants their holiday to coincide with Midsummer, but we’re leaving the city early. The roads are practically deserted, and we’ll be there in no time.’

  Erik had saved up a few extra weeks of holiday, and they wouldn’t have to be back in the city until school started for the children in August. Julia thought about that now: ten whole weeks. That was a long time to spend together. Only an hour ago she’d been imagining what it would be like to live alone with the children. Now, as she recalled that feeling, it seemed absurd. She looked at Erik and reached out to stroke his cheek.

  ‘Wow, your hand is cold,’ he said.

  2

  ERIK TURNED ON THE radio. He chose a music station because he didn’t want to hear the news. The media should have picked up the story by now, and he didn’t want Julia to ask any questions.

  ‘Important meeting at 9.30.’ That was what it had said in the subject line this morning when he checked his emails on his mobile. The email itself offered little information other than to say that the whole staff, except for the shop clerks, were to gather in the big conference room on the ninth floor. ‘The meeting will be streamed on our internal network so those who can’t join us physically will be able to participate.’

  The room was packed when Erik arrived. It was 9.28 in the morning, and only a fraction of the staff had actually found seats at the conference table. Everyone else was sitting in extra chairs or leaning against the walls, like school children gathered for the morning assembly. Through an open window Erik could see central Helsinki. It was a beautiful, mild summer day in mid-June. The light and the bustle out on the street only emphasised the tense atmosphere in the conference room.

  Yet there was also an underlying trace of sarcasm in the air. No one wanted to show any sign of anxiety about potentially negative news. By now humour had become a serviceable defence mechanism as their workplace was constantly being bombarded with bad news.

  Acting upset or concerned about the business was not an option because that would mean positioning themselves on the side of their employer. Erik knew that no one in the room really believed anyone in management knew what they were doing. There were many who had differing views on how the department store could be better run. But these were views that were voiced in other settings, when the bosses were not present. For instance, over a beer in one of the restaurants on the other side of Mannerheimvägen.

  Everyone knew that personnel costs were high. The internet was becoming dominant within the retail marketplace, and people often came into the department store to try on clothing or check out products they then purchased at home from various online companies.

  ‘Can anybody tell me what’s going on?’ asked Mia, who had come in later than everyone else. She worked at the information desk on the second floor, and it was often her voice they heard on the store’s loudspeakers whenever a customer needed to be paged. Everyone knew who Mia was: a mother of four with lots of energy and a perpetual tendency to turn up late for staff meetings.

  Erik could see that Mia was upset, but no one dared answer her question. They merely shrugged.

  ‘I don’t have time for this. There’s nobody covering customer service right now,’ she said. ‘If we’re really concerned about how things are going, we need to start by making sure we’re not understaffed on a Friday.’

  ‘The situation’s not going to improve,’ said an older man. His expression was gloomy, his face almost grey, as if covered with a thin layer of dust. Erik recognised him from the food department on the ground floor. He could just imagine how the man had been planning every detail of his approaching retirement, and now he was envisioning his benefits evaporating.

  The door opened and the boss came in. Her high heels struck five military taps on the floor before she stood at the head of the table.

  ‘Thank you for attending this important meeting today on such short notice,’ she began.

  Riina Pitkänen had worked at the department store for only a year, and no one seemed to know anything about her personal life, although rumours had circulated about what she did in her free time. Erik’s supervisor Jouni had suggested Eyes Wide Shut types of orgies, ‘with whips’. Erik never took part in that sort of speculation because he had no patience for such chauvinist remarks.

  Then again, one of the first changes Pitkänen had made was to eliminate an entire department devoted to fishing gear on the fifth floor in order to make room for more horse-riding paraphernalia.

  Right now she was speaking in a way that made Erik think she was very nervous, as if she were keeping her voice as monotone as possible so as not to allow the slightest quaver.

  Rumour had it that Riina Pitkänen had been hired to clean up the company’s finances and provide guidance through the restructuring process facing the department store. Her background was in administering various Finnish foundations, and her achievements included instigating the unpopular merger of several local newspapers over the past few years.

  For some reason Erik happened to think about a substitute teacher he’d had in primary school. All of the pupils had taken against her so vigorously that she had quit after only three weeks.

  ‘I realise that not everyone is here. The sales clerks will be given the same information in written form,’ Pitkänen was now saying.

  ‘I’ve called this meeting today because I have both good and bad news. Let’s start with the good. Well, I suppose it’s no secret, since you’ve undoubtedly read the papers, that we’re facing greater financial challenges than we have in many years. We’ve been fortunate and were able to show a relatively stable financial picture up until 2008, but since then things have changed.’

  She glanced down at her computer, which apparently held notes for her speech.

  ‘Of course we’re not alone in our concerns about the situation, which has affected the entire retail market. We’ve managed to keep ourselves relatively afloat – and will continue to do so – largely thanks to an ownership structure that provides a good deal of capital. But right now the company is showing negative results that not even our owners can accept, and the deficits are rapidly increasing. For that reason, it is inevitable that something has to be done, and we’ve been looking at many different solutions. One thing is clear. We need to restructure this summer. You will be notified of the exact details in good time. It will take place over the next five weeks, and the great thing is that all of you will be invited to participate in the process. We’re going to create various planning groups that will each provide input as to how it wants this department store to look, moving forward. Anyone who wishes to take part can join one of these groups. But let me say from the outset that working with a group does not guarantee you a future place with the company. However, the opposite is also true. If you decide not to participate in the planning sessions, this does not necessarily mean you will be let go.’

  She concluded by speaking directly to the web camera positioned on the table.

  ‘A press release has been sent to the media. If any journalists contact you, I ask you to make use of the information contained in the press release.’

  ‘So what’s the good news?’ asked the man who worked downstairs in the food department.

  ‘The good news? That’s what I just told you. All of you will be invited to participate in the process regarding the reorganisation. You will all have the opportunity to make a contribution.’

  It occurred to Erik that this was rather like inviting them in to plan their own funeral.

  ‘How many people are going to be fired?’ asked Mia. ‘We expect to lose about one hundred full-time employees,’ replied Pitkänen.

  ‘My God, that’s nearly a fifth of the entire staff,’ said Kaj Forslund, a big bald man who worked in the warehouse. He had long served as hea
d of the union, a role he took very seriously. Everyone trusted him because he seemed to know what he was doing, but above all because he belonged to the generation that was still passionate about union issues. Many of the younger employees came and went, without ever paying much attention to their employment rights.

  ‘Yes, but we’re hoping that a large percentage of them will leave with various exit packages. For example, some may have the opportunity to take early retirement or downsize to a part-time position. I know some employees would appreciate these sorts of solutions. So in the long run we’re hoping we won’t need to fire a hundred people.’

  ‘So how many do you think?’ asked Mia.

  ‘It’s impossible to say.’

  ‘What about people who have short-term contracts, or those who have summertime jobs or are filling in for people on leave?’ asked Forslund.

  ‘We won’t be hiring any new employees, and we’re looking at reducing the sales staff,’ said Pitkänen.

  Now Erik was sitting in the car, going over the day in his mind as he drove. After the meeting everyone had been subdued, as if they’d received word of the death of someone they knew. They wouldn’t find out how the restructuring would look until early July, in three weeks’ time. He’d be out of the city when that happened.

  He’d spoken to his immediate boss. Erik had noticed that Jouni wasn’t particularly happy with his role. He seemed to think that life had unfairly placed him in this position, as a mid-level manager in an industry going through a crisis. It had always been evident to Erik that Jouni thought his future was abroad, or maybe as head of his own consulting firm.

  ‘Too bad you’re leaving on holiday right now. It would have been good if you could stay and participate in one of the groups,’ said Jouni.

  ‘I’ve been planning this summer holiday for several years. And I also have five weeks of overtime that I need to use,’ said Erik.

  ‘But the situation has changed. Surely you can see that.’

  Erik shouldn’t have been worried about his own job, but he was. He’d made a number of bad decisions lately and taken on projects that he could tell were not high on management’s priority list.

  ‘I don’t know what to say. We’re supposed to leave today,’ said Erik.

  ‘I don’t know either. But, as we heard, we’ll know more in July. I hope you enjoy your time in Ostrobothnia,’ said Jouni.

  Erik thought it was pointless to tell everyone about potential cutbacks in the middle of the summer holidays. Plenty of people were going to have a hard time enjoying their time off, but he realised – he’d read the newspapers – that this was happening in lots of Finnish workplaces at the moment. There was a general sense that everyone ought to grit their teeth in order to make it through these difficult times. No complaining allowed.

  He could have sent Julia a text saying she should leave without him, but when he was in the men’s room on the second floor, where he’d retreated after lunch to read the job announcements on his mobile, he decided to take the tram home. He didn’t want to disappoint Julia, and besides, she’d seemed a little distant lately. They’d hardly talked to each other over the past few months, and Erik worried that she might have grown tired of him. Julia was always so restless, always on her way somewhere. They needed a little time to themselves.

  ‘How was work today?’ asked Julia after they’d stopped to fill up the car at the petrol station just past Tammerfors. The nice weather had held, and Erik shifted down to pass a lorry.

  ‘The usual. A holiday mood in the air. Lots of new summertime hires coming in. It’s going to be great to get away from it all for a while.’

  If he ended up unemployed this summer and couldn’t find another job, they wouldn’t be able to afford living in town much longer. Their living expenses were already too high. He decided not to say anything to Julia until he worked out what to do about the situation.

  3

  THEY ENCOUNTERED NO OTHER cars along the last few kilometres of the narrow forested road. They saw only a boy who looked to be about the same age as Alice. He was standing at the side of the road, holding a big stick and staring at their car as they drove past.

  ‘Did you see that kid? There are other children here. That’s great,’ said Erik. He glanced in the rear-view mirror, thinking it was lucky he hadn’t run over the boy, who had appeared out of nowhere.

  ‘Maybe you’ll make a new friend for the summer,’ he added.

  Alice had her headphones in and didn’t hear a word.

  They caught glimpses of the sea between the sparse pine trees. The water was smooth and grey, almost the same colour as the sky. It seemed to say: ‘I have no intention of making a fuss just for your sake.’ But it was still light outside, lighter than back in Helsinki, the sort of quiet and expansive midsummer light that lasts almost all day and night, and you don’t really notice it until August when it vanishes as quickly as it arrived.

  ‘The water looks cold,’ said Anton.

  ‘It’ll be warmer in a few weeks,’ said Julia.

  Anton was the first one inside the summer house. He noticed a raw, acrid smell when he crossed the threshold, but he didn’t spend any time wondering where it came from. He was too busy wandering around and looking at everything, opening doors to all the rooms and cubbyholes, and feeling the solid wooden floorboards under his feet. In the main bedroom the walls were flecked with old damp spots, and the floor was littered with dust and dried pine needles. He opened one of the cubbyholes and found an old, yellowed dressing gown with a rip in one sleeve. He moved on to the living room and peered up at a brass clock decorated with writing in Finnish that he couldn’t read. Above the big fireplace hung a wooden thermometer, and on the mantel was a heavy, old ashtray made of metal, in the shape of Finland.

  Two whole months. That was an unimaginable length of time for Anton. When he thought about how it would seem when they came to the end of their holiday, he couldn’t really picture it. The summer months quickly flickered past before his eyes. When the holiday was over, he would start in the fifth grade.

  Now he went out on the terrace and showed his parents a little wooden house he’d found in the living room. He opened the roof.

  ‘It’s for cigarettes,’ Julia told him. ‘When you press on the chimney, a cigarette rolls out of the eaves. Like this. Watch.’

  She pressed on the chimney.

  ‘Could we buy some cigarettes?’ asked Anton.

  ‘Pappa and I don’t smoke.’

  ‘But Granny does. And she and Grandpa are coming here for Alice’s birthday.’

  ‘Granny smokes?’

  ‘Sure. I saw her.’

  ‘Maybe she used to smoke,’ said Julia, glancing at Erik. ‘Why don’t you try putting something else inside. How about some sweets?’

  ‘Okay. Good idea,’ said Anton. And he went over to the car to fetch his bag of sweets.

  Julia went inside the summer house. There was a double bed in the bedroom on the ground floor, with a narrow single bed against one wall. Both children would sleep in the attic. Up there the ceiling was low, and the air could be stifling because there were no openings for ventilation.

  She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, which was empty. It was from the seventies, dirty and a little rusty around the edges. The walls in the kitchen were covered with the same light-brown fabric wallpaper as the cupboards. The whole room was definitely in need of a good coat of paint or even a complete renovation, since the fabric seemed to have absorbed a lot of odours. There was pine everywhere. The chairs in the living room were made of lacquered pine, and the walls consisted of hewn logs that had also been lacquered. It must have been the height of modernity in its day. Julia’s maternal grandmother had never had good taste. She had a fondness for slightly kitschy furnishings and little plaques with funny sayings. She was equally hopeless when it came to cooking, but she had compensated with other qualities. Julia would never forget how her grandmother used to sit on the terrace in the evening, play
ing cards with her when everyone else had grown tired and gone to bed.

  Erik walked around, inspecting the property. The morning meeting now seemed very distant, like an unsettling dream he had already shrugged off. He’d glanced at his mobile when they stopped in Jalasjärvi and noticed that he’d received more information from management, but he decided to put off reading it until Monday. He wanted to be alone, with no TV. He wanted to be a father again – something he’d hardly managed to do over the past few years. Now he planned to do everything fathers usually did: camping out, building a hut in the woods, cooking on the barbeque, maybe taking a boat out on the sea.

  If his job could be said to have had a numbing effect on his emotional life, he would reclaim it through his family, especially out here in nature. He breathed in the fresh air as he looked at the clearly demarcated area of the property – this place where they were going to spend the next two months.

  Julia’s parents lived about ten kilometres from Mjölkviken. Erik knew it wouldn’t be long before Julia’s mother stood on the terrace, energetically waving her hands about and offering advice. Susanne possessed an unusual ability to know precisely what was best for everyone (‘everyone except herself,’ as Julia had said many times). Erik always tried to keep a certain distance from his mother-in-law. His own parents lived in Ekenäs. He hadn’t spoken to them for some time now.

  Erik’s brother was in Vietnam on a ‘find-yourself backpacking trip’. Anders was two years younger than Erik, but the age difference might as well have been ten years. Anders was someone who refused to grow up. He was always trying to re-invent himself by restlessly jumping from one thing to another.

  Erik sat down at the small patio table on the mossy ground next to the little lake, called a tarn. Julia had told him that a few years back the whole tarn had been dredged so that the water was almost clear, but now it had silted up again and was filled with weeds and water lilies and algae. No one really knew how deep the water was, since the tarn had a soft, muddy bottom. Erik calculated it was at least fifty metres long and ten metres wide. In her first novel, Julia had described how a moose had swum across and then clambered ashore, nearly trampling a young child who was playing on the rocks outside the summer house.