The Birds (14 page)

He went on with his story. An incredible number of things had happened to him and the two girls. Hege listened with a contented expression on her face. Mattis was a bit irritated by the fact that she went on knitting just the same as ever. She never knitted on
Sundays – and surely this was as important as a Sunday. In the end he said: “Can’t you put that sweater down for a little?”

“What for?”

“It’s sort of like Sunday, for me.”

She let the sweater fall into her lap and concentrated on listening. He had reached a crucial point. Full of gratitude, he told her about Anna and Inger’s words of farewell.

“We’ll never forget this,” they said. “Per or Mattis, it’s all the same to us,” they said.

No, Anna and Inger didn’t come up to his end of the lake again. But Mattis lived in a rather different world from before. He felt more confident, walked down the road with more confidence, entered the store in a different way. Everyone knew what had happened, you could tell that by looking at them. The first six had done their jobs properly, everything else followed of its own accord.

This was the way things went in the store now: the storekeeper weighed the little packet of coffee, and asked casually, while keeping an eye on the scales: “Been out rowing again?”

“No.”

Mattis’s answer was brief and casual, too, but inwardly he was laughing. This was the way to talk about great events. Admittedly, this very same storekeeper had been making remarks behind his
back recently, but you just had to ignore that. He also took great care not to buy any candy on these first visits – what were camphor drops now? He walked out through the door with his coffee and sugar, like a lumberjack from the wild forests.

Then he heard that Anna and Inger had really left – he met people from the place where they’d been staying, and plucked up courage and asked. Left. Their holidays were over.

IN PLACE OF the girls came the storm which so far that summer had been kind enough to keep out of the way. It had to come sooner or later. It came the fourth day after the adventure on the lake. The fourth morning.

Mattis noticed it the moment he got out of the house: the heavy, oppressive atmosphere couldn’t be lightly dismissed. The sky was dark and motionless. Of course clouds like that might not mean anything more than rain, and yet … Mattis had the same leaden feeling in his own body, and when that happened he knew what was in store. All the energy seemed to seep out of him. In the meantime he watched the expression on Hege’s face.

Hege went on as though there was nothing the matter.

“Don’t you see!” he exclaimed at last.

“I can’t see anything unusual,” she replied, and went on tidying up the house. “What is it that you see, then?”

“The thunderstorm.”

“Oh, is that all,” she said.

Mattis drifted aimlessly in and out of the house. During all the years he had been frightened of thunderstorms he had learned to recognize many strange signs which he used today to size up the situation. The most reliable one was the leaden feeling around and inside him.

Hege said comfortingly: “Won’t come to anything, you know. It’ll soon clear up again, this thunderstorm of yours.”

“You can’t fool me like that today,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it looking quite so black before.”

No sooner had he spoken than there was a faint rumble of thunder. Thunder still in its sleep, but just as threatening, nonetheless. Mattis went hot all over.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yes, I heard it, but that may be the end of it. Try and calm down now,” said Hege. “Stay here for a bit this time, it’s just as safe, you see if it isn’t.”

“It’s coming as sure as you’re standing there washing up the cups. Listen!”

The thunder rumbled again, a little louder this time – the way it always happened.

“Still, wait a bit though,” said Hege.

“Why don’t you come with me instead?” said Mattis, more and more nervous.

“Certainly not. Now wait.”

In this situation Mattis was deaf to all pleas and good advice. His face turned gray, he was already off to his shelter, the one he always used during thunderstorms. The privy was the safest place. Over the years Mattis had collected a large number of stories about
lightning and what it did – but it had never struck a privy. Strange, but true.

The third rumble came before he could get inside – much nearer this time. Apart from that there was an uncanny silence. Not a bird sang. The only sound he could hear was the buzzing of a bluebottle which flashed past him in a blur of blue through the electrified air.

He closed the door securely.

He didn’t have long to wait before the storm broke with a vengeance. Outside, the lightning flashed with a soft and dangerous hiss, and Mattis sat huddled up, his eyes closed, counting one, two, three until the crash came. He dug his fingers into his ears, twisting and turning them and producing an awful noise, but it wasn’t much help when the thunder really got going.

“Heavens! Listen to that—”

Wilder still.

And Hege in the midst of it all.

What’s she doing now? Sitting knitting sweaters in weather like this, too? With the lightning hissing all around? No, she can’t be. She must have that much sense.

The storm was raging. So far the rain held off. Mattis was in the first and worst part of the thunderstorm, the rainless part. And who knows, perhaps the old rules are changed today – maybe this place isn’t safe any longer.

Because that day’s bound to come sooner or later, I suppose. Everything comes sooner or later really.

Not safe here either.

He wriggled his fingers furiously around in his ears. Flash and thunderclap were coming together now. Well, let it come then, he said to himself, numb with fear. One, two, three. It wasn’t the interval between lightning and thunder he was counting, it was the time he had left to live. The ground seemed to give, at least once. The rain was coming down in buckets now. I think I get more and more frightened each time, but then it gets more and more dangerous each time.

Hege’s sitting in the kitchen and isn’t a bit frightened. Isn’t frightened of anything.

It turned out to be a long struggle. The rain hammered down on the roof. The water was coming through in drips and trickles as well – the roof was in a poor state, like everything else here.

But it had to come to an end. At least the worst part of the storm was over now, and that was an immense relief.

So today wasn’t going to be an exception to the rule, either.

The shelter had proved safe. His body began to relax. Now he felt easier in his mind. There were still one or two faint, harmless rumbles to be heard, and the rain was teeming down. It was
wonderful to have the storm behind you. Soon he’d be rushing through the last of it and in to Hege.

Now!

He flung open the door and dashed headlong through the rain. There was a strong smell of wet leaves and grass. A smell you never got except at moments like this.

Through flashing fire, he thought as he stood on the doorstep shaking the water off himself. He didn’t doubt for a moment that Hege would be sitting quietly in the kitchen. A thunderstorm had never made Hege run away.

And sure enough, there was his sister, getting on with her work. At least she was now.

“Have you been sitting like that all this time.”

“Oh there you are,” she said, not answering the question.

“Through flashing fire,” he said, and all of a sudden his rain-soaked face broke into a proud and confident smile.

AFTER THIS MATTIS set off to explore as he usually did after a storm. His body felt fresh and restored. White streams were foaming down the hillsides. But Mattis didn’t get very far this time, he stopped suddenly, riveted to the spot: What does that mean!

It was the aspens, Mattis-and-Hege, only one of them now rose up to its full height. The other had been shattered by the lightning, all that could be seen was a bit of white trunk low down. There hadn’t been a fire, the rain must have put it out at once.

Death had been at work over there.

Mattis stood there without moving for a long time. This was—well it was a kind of omen! But which of them was it meant for? Which was Mattis and which was Hege?

At first he wanted to call Hege, but he stopped himself. Perhaps she knew which was which – and in that case he didn’t dare talk about it openly to her. But he had to find out who it was meant for, he must try and be crafty.

Quietly he returned to Hege: “Did you really sit knitting?”

“Yes,” she replied. It was obvious what he was referring to.

“Things might have gone really badly.”

“Oh?”

“Lightning has struck just the other side of the fence,” he said stiffly, as though pronouncing a verdict.

“Really,” said Hege. “Yes, there was one clap of thunder that was much worse than the others.”

“It’s shattered a treetop.”

“Uh-huh,” said Hege, counting stitches.

“One of the withered aspens!”

She didn’t bat an eyelid.

“Oh, really?” she said.

“Well, if that isn’t important either,” he said angrily, “then nothing’s important, I can tell you.”

“Lightning’s attracted to withered treetops,” said Hege.

She said it without a thought. Straight out.

“Go and see if you can spot any more that have been struck, Mattis,” she went on.

“Okeedoke,” he replied in an eager voice – for this was a straightforward task that he could cope with.

When he got outside he began scrutinizing the treetops. After a while he realized that Hege had fooled him. She didn’t want to hear about the aspen that had been struck, so she thought up this idea of counting treetops. But why didn’t she?

He went back in and reported: “No more.”

“Good,” said Hege. Just like that.

But the fact that the aspen had been struck by lightning made Mattis feel uneasy. He wandered in and out of the house and up and down the road. But he found no solution to the problem.

It’s a question of life and death, he thought all of a sudden.

Who’s been hit?

He couldn’t get anything more out of Hege, she refused to tell what she knew. He had no choice but to turn to strangers – but the mere thought of it filled him with dread. And he would have to be sharp-witted as well. But it’s a question of life and death. If it isn’t Hege, it’s me.

Which would you rather? said a voice inside him.

Mustn’t think like that! he said to himself, bringing his thoughts to an abrupt halt. I’ve stopped thinking about it.

He would have to pretend he wanted to make a trip to the store, he made trips there more often now.

Since his great moment on the pier recently he walked calmly into the store in front of everybody in a way he’d never done before. For all he knew he was a respected man now – rowing up with the girls like that had really been a tremendous success.

So one afternoon he asked: “Do you want me to go and do any shopping today?” He had even shaved.

“You’re a changed person these days,” said Hege. “Always pestering me about going to the store.”

He didn’t protest. She had no idea what the real reason for his trip was, that it was a matter of life and death.

“But what about money?” he said, feeling rather small.

She found some money for the shopping, and a little bit extra for Mattis.

“That’s for—”

“I don’t want any candy this time,” he said quickly, “if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Why not? We’re no worse off now than we’ve been before.”

“But how can you think about candy when lightning shatters the treetops,” said Mattis, succeeding in touching briefly on the secret topic. But it had no effect on Hege.

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t,” Hege said, frightening him with her frivolity.

“Surely there are more important things to think about now? I thought you’d understand that, too.”

“Take the money, Mattis,” said Hege, unmoved. “Buy yourself some candy the same as you’ve always done.”

“Be careful!” said Mattis, in great agitation. And he left the extra money behind on the table so that he had just enough with him to pay for the serious items. He had to get away before she frightened him even more.

What he wanted was a good excuse for walking along the main road, and perhaps meeting some of his nearest neighbors – they
would be bound to know more about the two treetops than anyone else. The storekeeper lived a little too far away to know which one was which. Mattis had to find out who had been hit.

There were no local people on the road at this time of day, everyone was at work. Mattis had forgotten about that. Cars went swishing past him. He went to the store and did his shopping, calmly and with authority. As usual there were a couple of strangers there, holiday-makers buying cookies and lemonade.

As Mattis was about to leave, something embarrassing happened. Since he hadn’t bought his usual little bag of sweets, the storekeeper must have thought he hadn’t got enough money – so he quickly dug out a few camphor drops and made a paper cone. He put the cone next to the other things Mattis had bought, giving him a little wink.

Mattis blushed. He had seen the storekeeper doing the same sort of thing with children. Quickly he snatched up the two or three bags he had bought, and left the sweets lying on the counter.

“Take that one as well,” said the storekeeper. “You can pay for them some other time.”

These words put Mattis in an embarrassing spot. He was being given candy like a child – although he knew about great things like shattered trees and lightning and omens of death. He took the gift, mumbling a thank you, and even popped a sweet into his mouth. Had been made to feel small. The worst of it was that the
storekeeper had only been trying to be kind. Mattis had to try and save face.

“Well, I suppose you can’t really help it,” he said in a loud voice to the storekeeper.

That was better. The storekeeper stared at him a little: “What can’t I help?”

“Being like you are, of course!” Mattis replied, feeling he had managed the whole thing rather well.