by Maria Parr
“Keep going! The ferry’s put down the barrier!” I shouted.
“Come back, you stupid ferry!” shouted Lena.
We jumped out of the box and waved our arms.
The captain spotted us, and maybe he saw that Grandpa was waving too, because he came back. The ferry docked with a bang, and Able Seaman Birger let us aboard. Dad was on his lunch break and was nowhere to be seen.
“Maybe it’s best if you don’t tell Dad that we’re here right now,” I said to Able Seaman Birger.
“Why not?” he asked.
“It’s a surprise,” said Lena. “It’s his birthday,” she added.
Able Seaman Birger looked at Grandpa, and Grandpa nodded sincerely.
“Yes, you look after that young lad. He’s forty-four today,” he said, giving Birger such a slap on the back that it made his ticket bag jangle. I looked at Grandpa and Lena in shock. What were they talking about?
“Sometimes it’s all right to tell white lies, Trille, my boy,” said Grandpa. “And this will be just great for your father. Maybe Able Seaman Birger will put together some cake and a present!”
I don’t think it had ever taken the ferry so long to get to town. I stood peering over the ferry door the whole way, and it felt like we were never getting any closer. But with every second that passed, Hillside Molly was getting closer to the slaughterhouse.
“We’re never going to make it in time,” I said. “I just want to jump overboard and swim!”
“If you’re going to splash about in the middle of the fjord without a life jacket, then you’ll definitely never make it in time!” Lena helpfully informed me.
Grandpa looked at his watch.
When we finally reached town, Grandpa drove even faster, but he threw the woolen blanket over Lena and me so that nobody would see us. Especially not the police. I lay there thinking about all the forbidden things we’d done that day: skipping math class, lying to Able Seaman Birger, starting a retirement home without permission, and riding in the moped box down the hill and through town. I felt really bad about it. But then I pictured Hillside Molly.
“Dear God, please let us make it!”
“Wait here,” Grandpa said strictly when we got to the slaughterhouse.
And then he tramped inside in his overalls and wooden shoes. Lena and I stood waiting in the middle of the large parking lot. So this was where we sent sheep every autumn, I thought, and my stomach began to hurt a little. We couldn’t hear a sound from inside.
“Maybe she’s already been turned into sausages,” Lena said after a while. “Just waiting for the mayonnaise.”
“Stop it,” I mumbled angrily.
But Hillside Molly had gotten there almost an hour before us. She was most likely no longer alive. Why wasn’t Grandpa coming out? Maybe he couldn’t bear to tell me. I tried not to cry, but I had tears in my eyes. Lena kicked her shoe on the pavement and pretended that she didn’t see.
Then the door finally opened, and out came Grandpa—without Molly.
“Oh, no!” I shouted.
“Now, now, Trille. I couldn’t exactly lead her through their offices, could I? We’ve got to go around to the other side to get her.”
We had made it after all! But as Grandpa said, it was a close shave. Suddenly there I was with my own horse in an enormous parking lot. I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so happy!
We made quite a funny procession as we strolled back through town. Grandpa went first on his moped. I followed, leading Molly, and finally along came Lena, who kept announcing that it looked like Molly was about to poop. Molly didn’t poop until we got to the ferry line. We took our places behind a black Mercedes—Grandpa on his moped, then me with the horse, and finally Lena.
“Now she’s pooping like there’s no tomorrow!” Lena shouted joyfully.
People looked at us strangely, and I was glad I had found myself such a wise and gentle horse who stood there so calmly; otherwise it would probably have been mayhem.
Actually, fairly soon it was mayhem, because Dad had finished his break. He was standing on the bow as the ferry moored. When he spotted us, he gaped so widely that I could see his wisdom teeth all the way from the shore. In his astonishment, he forgot to wave the Mercedes and the other cars aboard. They started up anyway, and we followed them toward Dad, who was standing in the middle of the deck with a birthday party hat sticking out of his pocket. The Mercedes rumbled by first, then Grandpa chugged by, then Hillside Molly and I walked on board, with me not daring to look at Dad, and afterward came Lena, smiling broadly. She likes a commotion.
Dad sold the Mercedes a ticket first, so he could collect his thoughts. Then he came to Grandpa on his moped. Dad was red in the face and had probably planned an entire speech. But Grandpa clambered off his moped, drew out his wallet, and said: “One senior, two children, and a horse, please.”
“And many happy returns of the day!” added Lena.
That day, Dad said he was going to be old long before his time because of us, but Lena said it didn’t matter: he could get a place at our retirement home too. Even though it was mainly for horses.
“You can’t just get yourself a horse,” said Mom, even though that was exactly what I’d done. She and Dad were pretty angry. If it hadn’t been for Grandpa, I think we would have had to take Molly back, but Grandpa straightened it out. And even if they pretended otherwise, I noticed that my parents gradually came to think it was a very good and well-behaved horse we had down in the old stables.
Life returned to its usual course again. March was approaching, and I had become used to having both the horse and Lena around. On weekends, Lena went to town to her mom’s, and often, in the afternoons, her mom came to visit Mathildewick Cove. I thought about it every day, about how happy I was that Lena hadn’t moved away. It was so good not being lonely and sad! For a long time, nothing went out of control either. We behaved like a couple of angels for several weeks, Lena and I, after that business with Hillside Molly.
“It’s enough to make me nervous,” Dad said one day at the dinner table. “It’s not normal for it to be so peaceful in Mathildewick Cove.”
I’m not certain, but I think it was probably that comment that gave Lena such a brilliant idea when we were clearing the table afterward. She suddenly stopped and stood there, looking at our radio.
“Let’s bury it, Trille.”
“Bury the radio?”
“Yes, like Auntie Granny told us,” said Lena. “We’ll bury it and pretend that it’s the war.”
It was good to do something that Auntie Granny had told us about. She would probably like it, from where she was sitting up in heaven. Still, it was so forbidden that my whole body quivered.
But Lena said that we should do it. Then we’d really understand what war was like, and it had to be a good idea to learn about that.
So all the other people in Mathildewick Cove became German soldiers, even though they didn’t know it. Lena and I were the only Norwegians, and we tiptoed around like two spies from the Resistance.
“They’ll send us to a camp if they catch us,” said Lena.
We dug a hole next to the chicken run. It was hard work, but it was big and deep when we’d finished. So big and deep that we decided to gather together all the radios in Mathildewick Cove.
People have a lot more radios these days than they had when Auntie Granny was young. There was the radio in the bathroom, the stereo system in the living room, Magnus’s portable radio, Minda’s CD player with radio tuner, and Grandpa’s big old radio.
“Wow,” I said several times when we realized how many there were.
“Yes, it’s quite a lot, but it’s pointless to have dug such a big hole if we’re not going to fill it up,” Lena decided.
We must be pretty good at this war business, Lena and I, because we got hold of all the radios without being spotted. It was a huge collection. We even managed to haul the big stereo system over to the hole without anyone noticing.
“S
hall we bury them now?” said Lena as we dropped Magnus’s portable radio onto the top of the pile.
“Won’t they be ruined?” I asked.
Lena thought that radios must be fairly tough if they’d done this during the war, when everything was so terrible. We put a trash bag on top and some soil above that. And then off we ran to spy on the German soldiers.
First we sat behind the kitchen door, watching Mom search high and low for her radio. Then we peeked down at Grandpa, who was standing in the middle of the room, scratching his head.
“Is something up, Grandpa?” I asked innocently.
“I’ve gone senile, Trille lad. I remember so clearly that I had a radio here this morning, but now it’s vanished. And who could’ve moved that rickety old contraption if I didn’t do it myself?”
Lena vanished like a fly. When I found her again, she was lying behind the barn, rolling around with laughter.
But soon the German soldiers began conferring. Mom spoke with Grandpa, and Grandpa spoke with Minda, and Minda spoke with Magnus, and Magnus spoke with Dad. They all ended up in our kitchen, talking about the missing radios. Lena and I sat on the attic stairs, listening.
“Do you think they’re going to suspect us?” Lena whispered.
“Yes, actually,” I mumbled.
We decided to escape. The Norwegians did that during the war; they went to Sweden and became refugees. We would have to be quick, because now the soldiers had begun looking for us.
“There should be a bounty on your head, Trille!” I heard Magnus shouting somewhere, not terribly far away.
“We can take Hillside Molly!” I whispered.
That Lena and I managed to get into the old stables and up onto the horse without anyone noticing is a miracle.
“We’re clearly experts at escaping,” said Lena as we sat up on the horse, riding bareback. I clutched Molly’s mane. Lena clutched me, saying “Giddy-up.”
We took the shortcut we’d taken on the moped when the Balthazar Gang was after us. We weren’t going fast, even with Lena endlessly saying “Giddy-up.” Hillside Molly is no racehorse, to put it kindly. She’s a hillside mare.
“Smoking haddocks, what a useless horse,” Lena moaned, annoyed. “We’ve got to take cover somewhere!”
“We’re going to visit Hilltop Jon,” I said. “It’s not far, and then we can see how he’s getting on!”
The retirement home was completely quiet when we got there. Lena looked at the big building. She thought it was the spitting image of Sweden. She’d been to Sweden once, when she was two.
“Shall we tie up Molly here?” she said, pointing at a sign.
Usually when Lena and I visit the retirement home, we come with our class for a performance or something. It was different being just the two of us, without our recorders. But we found the sitting area where Hilltop Jon was, looking out the window with his one eye. I think he was missing Hillside.
“Ahem,” Lena said loudly.
Hilltop Jon was pleasantly surprised to see us. I explained as best I could about the radios and the Germans and everything, and he understood. But there were several other people in the room, and some of them understood a little too well. For example, one old woman named Anna, who thought the war was still on and that German soldiers really were after Lena and me.
Before we knew it, Lena and I found ourselves huddled among skirts and blouses in Anna’s closet. She put a chair in front of it and sat guarding us.
“No soldier alive can get past me!” shouted Anna.
Neither could Lena and I. I was beginning to feel a little skeptical about the whole war thing, but Lena chuckled away happily in the darkness.
After a while, Anna suddenly shouted, “There’s nobody in the closet!” I pressed my whole body against the door so a small gap opened up. I peeked out. Dad, Grandpa, Minda, and Magnus had come in. Then Hilltop Jon forced his way past them and took a banana from the bedside table, pretending that it was a pistol. It was such a strange sight that both Lena and I started laughing. Everyone laughed, actually, except Anna. She didn’t think it was funny in the slightest and defended us as well as she could. It was only when Dad went out into the sitting area and sat down at the piano and Grandpa asked her to join him in a waltz that she forgot what she was doing and let Lena and me out of the closet.
“How did you find us?” I asked.
“You know, it’s funny, but when you see a horse standing outside a retirement home, you feel that you’re getting warm!” Dad said angrily from the piano stool.
“It’s not easy to park that animal,” Lena answered gruffly.
Hilltop Jon’s eye opened wide. “Have you brought Hillside Molly, dear children?”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen an old man so happy.
We stayed a good while at the retirement home that evening. And when we left, I promised to come with Molly and visit often. But first Mom gave Lena and me our punishment. For three whole afternoons we had to pick up stones in the field where this year’s cabbage was going to be planted.
Green shoots were appearing and spring was getting closer. I could feel it throughout my body. Every morning I stood at my window looking out and felt that it was almost spring now. One afternoon, Lena and I took Krølla with us to show her.
First we went down to the barn.
“Soon lambs will be coming out of the ewes’ bums,” Lena explained while I stroked my favorite ewe on the head. She was as fat as a beach ball. Krølla grinned and gave her some hay.
“And then the grass outside will become green, and we can let the lambs out into the fields. Do you remember last year, Krølla?”
“Yep,” said Krølla, but I think she was lying.
Afterward we went into the yard and stood underneath the pear tree. No snowdrops had come out yet, but I pointed and explained where they were going to pop up.
“They might come in the next week or so,” I said, and Krølla promised to check.
Lena and I explained everything about spring to Krølla. It’s good being a big brother.
“And then it’ll be the Midsummer festival again,” I said. “And we’ll light a big bonfire down on the shore.”
“Then Grandpa will spray the muck!” Krølla laughed.
She remembered that.
“But who’s going to be the Midsummer bride and groom?” I said, mostly to myself, feeling a twinge inside me.
Auntie Granny was no longer here.
“Not the two of us, anyway,” Lena blurted out.
Grandpa was sitting below the porch with his fishing nets. Krølla told him that we were looking at spring.
“Yes, spring’s certainly on its way, but it’s going to be rough weather this evening, I tell you,” said Grandpa, scrunching up his eyes a little as he looked out across the fjord. It was very dark on the other side. It was so strange to be standing in the sun and the good weather in Mathildewick Cove, watching it rain elsewhere!
As a matter of fact, it wasn’t long before it was pouring in our cove too. We hurried inside and did indoor things for the rest of the day. When we went to bed, the thunder and lightning had started. I lay there for a long time listening to the thunderclaps. Deep inside I wished I could sneak into Lena’s room and take the picture of Jesus. I thought about how she didn’t have to be afraid, while I was here feeling scared, when it was actually my picture. In the end the thunder was so loud that I couldn’t stay in bed anymore. I got up to go to Mom and Dad’s room, just to ask if such loud crashes were normal.
Lena was standing in the hallway.
“Are you frightened?” she asked quickly when I came out of my room.
I shrugged. “Are you?”
Lena shook her head. And then I began to feel angry. She had my picture of Jesus, and besides, I was sure that she was fibbing.
“You are! What else would you be standing here in the hall for?” I asked.
Lena crossed her arms in front of her chest, making a noise. “I’m going outside.”
“Outside. Yes. I’m going to sleep on the porch, so I can hear those thunder-farts better!”
A tingle started inside me, but before my knees had time to start shaking, I said, “So am I!”
I was so frightened! Even though you couldn’t see it on Lena’s face, I’m sure that she was frightened too. She had to be. The thunder was so loud that the porch shook. We were soaking wet in a few minutes, even sitting under the roof inside our sleeping bags. Now and then, forks of lightning zigzagged across the sky, lighting up everything as if it were the middle of the day. It rained and poured and thundered and boomed so much that it was really terrifying. I’d never experienced such powerful thunder. Every clap was stronger than the one before. I ended up putting my hands over my ears and closing my eyes. Lena sat next to me like a ship’s figurehead, her mouth forming a straight line. And suddenly I realized that she was probably missing her mother. I let my hands drop. Poor Lena! I was just about to say something when a bolt of lightning and a clap of thunder came almost together. The light and the noise were so strong that Lena and I squeezed ourselves together and buried our faces in our sleeping bags.
“We’re crazy!” I shouted. “We’ve got to go indoors, Lena!”
Lena didn’t answer. She was on her feet already.
“Trille, the old stables are on fire!”
I shook off my sleeping bag and pulled myself up. Fire!
“Molly!” I shouted, and began to run.
Behind me, I heard Lena yelling into the house as only she can yell. And then she screamed at me, “Trille, don’t go in there!”
But I didn’t listen. In the middle of the lightning and rain and fire, Molly was in the stables. I had to get her out. At the moment, the flames were just under the roof. I tore open the door. There was smoke everywhere, but I knew exactly where she was standing.
“There, there,” I said, grabbing hold of her mane. “Come on, girl.”
She just stood there. Totally frozen to the spot. I stroked her and spoke to her and pulled, but Molly stood stock-still. She wouldn’t move. It was as if she wanted to be burned in there. Didn’t she realize that she had to get out?