The Birds (22 page)

“Aren’t there more red toadstools than usual this year?” he asked without explanation.

“Not as far as I can see,” said Hege. “Everything’s the same as always,” she said blindly, and was already on the move again.

AND AS A sign that no one was surrounded by poison, a girl came walking down the path.

At first Mattis couldn’t believe his eyes. He even knew her: it was the girl he’d worked with in the turnip field last spring. The one who had pinched her boyfriend so delightfully, and got pinched herself in the same joyful and delightful way. It was like a miracle, seeing her coming down from the road at a moment as gloomy as this.

It’s me she’s come to see, Mattis thought at once, remembering what had happened on the island in the lake.

Oh, but I’m forgetting, she’s got a sweetheart.

It was years and years since a girl had come to visit them. Hege was the only one here. As soon as he saw her coming he thought: Anna or Inger? But when she got closer he saw it wasn’t either of them. That would have been too good to be true, anyway. He was happy as it was, he knew this girl too.

The fact that they’d worked together on one occasion gave Mattis confidence and put him at ease. That’s the sort of girl she’d been, he remembered. Looked as if they both remembered it, for the girl nodded as though she knew him, and smiled. All Mattis’s misery vanished, the forest filled with poison was now like a friendly shield.

Before the girl had had a chance to say a word – almost before she’d reached him, Mattis blurted out: “Aren’t you sweethearts anymore?”

The girl laughed.

“Who?”

“You and him, of course. The one who was pinching your arms and legs.”

“How can you tell, then?” she asked. “People don’t go around holding hands all the time, you know.”

Mattis bent his head. Had he said something stupid already? Thinking about it, she was right, of course. The girl put an end to his embarrassment by saying: “But actually, you’re right. It’s all over between us.”

Mattis felt a pang. Or rather two pangs: one of pleasure and one of sorrow.

“Surely, there’s no need for you to look so dismayed, is there?” said the girl.

“No,” he mumbled.

“No, that sort of thing doesn’t always last. I expect you know that yourself,” she added comfortingly. A kindhearted girl.

He didn’t dare tell her an outright lie with a straightforward “yes” but turned it into an ambiguous “hm” instead. But how grateful he was.

“Is there anyone at the moment, then?” he asked nervously. “Anyone new?”

“No, I’m more or less free at the moment,” said the girl with a careless toss of the head.

“Oh,” said Mattis.

The girl laughed again, for no apparent reason, but it wasn’t a malicious laugh. Then at last she was able to get around to the subject of her visit.

“I’ve got a message to give to the lumberjack you’ve got living here, Jørgen something or other, isn’t it? But I don’t suppose he’s home at this time of day.”

“No, he’s out in the forest,” Mattis answered a little crossly. It looked as though he’d been wrong, it was Jørgen she wanted to see.

“But maybe I could tell you instead. You’re capable of giving a message, aren’t you?” she blurted out without thinking.

Mattis went a bit red. But the girl was too buoyant to notice.

Mattis didn’t dare take the message. He might get it wrong. Especially as it concerned Jørgen.

“It’d be better if you left it with my sister, if you don’t mind. She’s in there,” he said. It was a bitter thing to have to say.

The girl grinned.

“Of course. I forgot.”

She tripped in on nimble feet. Mattis followed her with his eyes, and had already forgiven her. He’d become a changed
person after last summer – after rowing with Anna and Inger, and walking through the thunderstorm, and managing so well as a ferryman. It wasn’t difficult to forgive this girl for saying things she shouldn’t say.

And this was why sudden plans were flickering through his mind, too; plans concerning the visitor and another chance to talk to her. He walked up the path until he was hidden from the cottage, and there he stopped and waited. The girl would have to pass by here on her way home.

It worked like a charm. After a little while she came up the path and walked straight into him – rather like falling into a trap. But she did so with a carefree laugh.

“So that’s where you are. Lying in wait for me on my way home.”

Funny how the clever ones see through everything right away. Or nearly everything. He couldn’t use the same carefree tone as she had, the problems he was grappling with were far too difficult for that, far too grave, really. He stepped forward and asked in a serious voice: “Can I come with you for a bit of the way? Just up to the road?”

“Of course you can,” said the girl. Just like that.

“Yes, I thought it’d be alright, seeing you haven’t got a sweetheart,” Mattis stammered.

“I didn’t say that,” said the girl, “I said I was more or less free. Oh yes, I’ve got one. Sort of anyway.”

Mattis’s eyes opened wide, and he slowed down. His face fell. He didn’t understand.

“Don’t you want to come then?” she said. “Oh well, as you like.”

“Want to?” He didn’t understand. How could he walk with her, if she had a sweetheart after all? What was the point?

She wanted to go, but he made a movement with his arm, the sort of movement people make when they’re trying to catch something, but then he decided to let it fall. That’s what stopped her.

There was a big flat stone by the side of the path. Mattis had walked past it all his life without noticing it – but today it seemed to detach itself from its surroundings. Mattis felt he ought to go, but there this stone was, and without knowing how he’d managed to think of it so quickly, he pointed to it and said hastily: “Flat stones are for sitting on.”

The way he said it made the girl sit down at once. Before he had time to think.

This is mad, he thought, and sat down next to her.

There was plenty of room on the stone. Mattis took good care not to get too near her. What did he want? Couldn’t say for sure. To hear something. Be near. But he mustn’t sit there without saying a word, he realized that. The girl seemed to be looking at him expectantly, insisting he say something. And so, rather abruptly, he asked: “Did you think that was cleverly put?”

The girl was stroking her cheek with a blade of grass. Jerking her foot up and down. Never quite relaxed.

“What d’you mean?”

“What I said about the flat stone, of course. And about sitting.”

The girl snorted, was back on her feet already.

“Do you ask that sort of question, too?” she said, disappointed, as if she had had enough of him.

Had enough of him—

“But how—?” he asked, frightened. Stayed sitting on the stone.

The girl was going, and Mattis didn’t dare to move.

“I didn’t know it was wrong,” he said.

“No, well, I’m sorry I can’t stay any longer.”

“You see—”

She interrupted him: “Let’s drop it. It’s not important; it doesn’t matter to either of us, does it?”

She started to walk away. She nodded first, in a friendly way, perhaps a little ashamed. But she was going.

Mattis clung to a memory: “The other’s weren’t like that!” he said. “And I talked to them a lot.”

The girl stopped at once.

“The others? Who are they?”

“I mean Anna and Inger, when I say the others,” he said in a low voice. “You’ve heard about them, haven’t you?”

“Yes I—of course I have.”

“We were out on the lake, and we talked together for a whole day. And they weren’t like that.”

The girl came toward him, looked straight into his eyes, regretting what she’d said. His eyes opened wide. What was he expecting? He didn’t know. But he waited.

“Listen, Mattis.”

He was trembling.

“Yes?”

She didn’t know what to say. She’d looked into his eyes.

“No, I—” she began. “Oh, it’s impossible to know what to say to you!”

As she spoke, she brushed his cheek lightly with her hand, and then she really did go, quick, nimble, gone in a flash.

Mattis didn’t try to pinpoint his feelings, but everything had been set right, and more besides. On a happy impulse the girl had done what neither Anna nor Inger had done – and had gained a place in his heart.

He remained sitting on the stone for a long time.

THEN IT CAME. Something quite different: the lightning flash that solved his problems. Suddenly and without warning he saw it all. And it was difficult.

He jumped up from the flat stone.

Like a blinding flash of lightning. But it was inside him this time, lit up everything.

What! he thought, horrified. I can’t do it.

He forgot the girl. He’d been sitting thinking happily about the wonderful moments she’d given him – and then came the flash. A way out, ready and complete from beginning to end – in a flash.

Suddenly and ruthlessly it cut through the problems that had been gathering around him. He had to accept it without question, without fear – although its effect was shattering. He saw what he had to do, understood it, and accepted it, numbly.

And that was how his plan came – in a flash while he was sitting on the freshly initiated stone. The way out of the difficulties that had been tormenting him. Hege and Jørgen and me, he thought. The woodcock wasn’t included this time, she was somewhere else.

He sat down again without thinking.

“This is going to be difficult,” he said in a loud voice into the empty air. But nobody was listening. How painful it was to be clever, he thought.

THE PLAN WAS secret. Everything had to be done with the utmost caution. He couldn’t even mention it to Hege – she’d have intervened at once and stopped him.

But since it was a difficult plan, he must allow himself one last attempt to get off more lightly, he felt, now that the first burst of excitement had died down.

So he waited till Jørgen had left for the forest the next day, and then approached Hege in a somewhat ceremonious manner. She was sitting among her sweaters, humming a little tune.

“What is it, Mattis?” she said, and stopped humming. It was obvious from his appearance that he had something serious in mind.

“It’s important,” he answered, “more important than you realize.”

“Well come on then, out with it,” said Hege, a bit impatiently.

Mattis’s throat sounded dry: “You must decide who you want to be with from now on, Jørgen or me,” he said, plunging straight out.

Hege didn’t need any explanation. She didn’t need to think about it, either, as far as he could see.

“Nothing’s changed, as far as I’m concerned,” she said without hesitation. “Surely you realize who I’m going to be with—from now on.”

“Yes,” said Mattis in a faltering voice, “but then it’s going to be—” He broke off, had nearly said too much.

Hege tackled the problem from her angle: “Doesn’t it seem natural, too, if you really think about it?”

Thinking about it, he had to admit she was right. But all the same. And things might change. He clung to this faint hope. I’ve heard they can. These things can come to nothing. That’s what happened to the two who were pinching each other.

He staked a lot on his next question: “And are you sure things won’t ever change, Hege?”

“As sure as I’m sitting here,” Hege replied. “And thank God for that.”

Mattis bent his head.

“Oh well, in that case.”

Hege obviously knew what she was talking about. She sounded absolutely certain. There was no hope of winning her back.

“This is difficult,” he said. “It may not be easy to manage.”

“Manage what?” she asked, not understanding, “don’t you think Jørgen and I will manage?”

He was dumbfounded. She didn’t understand a thing. But then she clinched the matter by saying: “You mustn’t begrudge me this, Mattis.”

Slam. The door was shut.

“Begrudge,” he said.

His way was barred; there was nothing more he could say.

“Was there anything else you wanted?” Hege asked in a friendly
tone, since Mattis remained standing there without saying anything.

Mattis shook his head. Hege had been as clear as you could wish. So now things were more or less settled. He’d have to get on with his big plan. He was just standing there for a while first.

FOR MANY YEARS a couple of rough-hewn pieces of wood, that looked as though they might one day be oars, had been standing in the shed. Mattis had never got down to finishing them, he’d managed with the old ones. Now he brought out these half-finished oars and started scraping at them with a plane.

The plan had caught his imagination so completely that he even saw these clumsy pieces of wood as part of it. Yes, my mind was really working well for once! he thought, with a strange sensation running through his body. He felt he was completely in the hand of the unknown.

Jørgen came back from the forest and saw Mattis standing there, scraping away with his plane. An unusual sight.

“Are you going to make a new pair of oars?”

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to for a long time,” said Mattis.

“You’re going to start ferrying again, then?” said Jørgen, urging the idea on him.

“I guess so.”

Mattis answered without looking up. He couldn’t be entirely truthful now – or his plan would be spoiled, and altogether forbidden. Perhaps they’d tie him up.

“Good,” said Jørgen. “It’s a bad thing for anyone to be without a job.”

And he went in to join Hege and have his meal.

The oars were much too big and thick, but Mattis just scraped them to make them white and a little smoother, so they’d look more finished. They remained rough pieces of wood – and that was how they were going to be used. Supported by these oars he would either float and reach land in safety, or else sink beneath them and disappear. That was the most important part of the whole plan.

Then I’ll know what I’m to do. I’ll find out.

The boat’s going to spring a leak, right in the middle of the lake, so it sinks to the bottom. It’s so rotten it’s bound to. And I don’t know how to swim. But these thick oars should bear me up and bring me back – if I’m meant to come back and be with them again.