The Birds (7 page)

“Oh, I’d rather have the coffee, I think,” he said, livening up.

“I think you made a wise choice,” said the woman.

“But it’s fun watching the sweethearts, too,” said Mattis, trying to be honest.

“Yes, I’m sure, but we’ll let the sweethearts get on with it, shall we, and drink our coffee.”

“Well, if that’s alright.”

That’s what women ought to be like, he thought, following her into the kitchen.

They had some good coffee. The woman asked what his sister was doing.

“Oh, there’s the never-ending sweaters, you know.”

After this they sat in silence. Mattis felt awful thinking of Hege having to feed him.

“I’m a terrible eater, too,” he said. He mustn’t lie to this woman. “I eat up all she earns,” he said.

The woman didn’t say anything. Just kept filling up his cup.

“Now she’s turning gray, too,” he said.

The woman remained silent.

“It’s not easy having me,” he said.

Then the woman got up, saying almost harshly: “Let’s stop talking about this, Mattis.”

Stop talking about it? But he was longing to talk about himself and his problems. It wasn’t often you had the chance of sitting and drinking good coffee and opening your heart to a woman.

“Well, if I can’t I suppose I can’t,” he said.

His voice was trembling.

The woman found an excuse for going into the next room, so that Mattis could be alone. When she came back he had hardly moved; he sat surrounded by baffling problems, waiting with an important question. He began: “But I can ask you something, can’t I?”

She nodded, but not very invitingly.

“Yes, you can ask. But we’ll have to see whether I’ll answer or not. If I can.”

Mattis asked: “Why are things the way they are?”

The woman shook her head. Nothing more. He didn’t dare repeat the question. He waited patiently. Patient to all appearance. Inwardly he was frantic with impatience. He turned to her again. Once more she shook her head.

“More coffee?” she said.

He understood and yet he didn’t. He shuddered. Stared down into an abyss of riddles.

“You bet,” he said, referring to the coffee.

“But now the woodcock’s here,” he continued as though asking a question.

“Yes, that’s a thing we’ve never had over our house,” said the woman quickly, happy at being able to talk about something like this. “Now you stay there,” she said, and left him for a little while, giving his disturbing question time to sink back into the depths from which it came.

Time passed. Mattis sat where he was.

“I bet they’re sweating now,” he said to the woman.

She was getting the next meal ready, it would soon be time for it.

“Do you think I ought to go and help?”

“Too late now. They’ll be coming in very soon. You just stay put,” she said. She could see he didn’t know what to do. “They wouldn’t even want you turning up now.”

There was an air of authority in her voice and in the expression on her face. The thought of meeting the others filled Mattis with dread and made him writhe in his chair. After a while the woman went out into the yard and called them home. How he wished he had been out there, washing his hands in the little pool.

There they were. The door was open. They hung around a bit outside. Mattis, who had a keen sense of hearing, was listening anxiously to see if anyone said Simple Simon. Yes, there it was. It was the young man who said it. Mattis didn’t hear the rest. The three of them came in. Mattis sat full of anxiety. Shamefacedly he turned to the farmer: “I meant to come and finish off what’s left of my two rows, but I was asked in to coffee instead.”

The farmer nodded curtly. His back was tired, and he was no longer as friendly as he had been in the morning.

“We finished that bit of yours long ago,” he replied. “We couldn’t have just left that sort of thing there.”

The sweethearts walked past Mattis as though he weren’t there. They looked embarrassed.

“Come and have something to eat, Mattis,” said the farmer, dismissing the matter in spite of all that had happened.

“Yes, some food would be great now,” Mattis replied. At the same time he groaned inwardly.

It was the sweethearts that helped him at the table all the same. They were so young that he’d expected sidelong glances and sly grins, but they sat quietly, looking at him in a kindly way. No doubt the woman had told them how to behave before they came in. He’d known that kind of thing to happen many times. Doesn’t matter to me what the reason for it is, he said to himself, hastily turning his anxiety into a feeling of pleasure.

Pity, though, that the young couple was so tired now that they couldn’t be sweethearts in the same way as they had been earlier in the day. It’s a real shame! he thought. He felt a strong desire to talk to the girl about it, now while they sat opposite one another eating. He brought his gaze to rest upon her. Her freshly washed girl-hands lay on the table. There was something friendly and likeable about her.

“Are you feeling tired?” he began. He decided to risk it. Without realizing it he had asked gently, like a mother, and everyone around the table looked at him in amazement. The girl turned red and could hardly answer.

“Yes,” she said in a quick, low murmur, drawn to something she felt to be good and sympathetic, and that held her entranced.

They were all waiting for Mattis to continue, and he did: “It’s almost a pity to be sweethearts really, when you’re tired!” he said.
He sensed that things were going wrong and getting confused. But that was what he’d meant after all.

They were all able to laugh freely and continue eating again. Mattis had to laugh too. Had he been clever after all? His laughter was like the whinny of a horse, and that made the others laugh even more. Then it became very quiet, as after a sudden blow. What was it? No one knew.

They got up from the table. Work was over for the day, and the farmer asked the sweethearts if they could come and help again the next day.

“Suppose so,” they replied and left. Mattis sent a long glance after them. He wasn’t likely to be coming back tomorrow, so he wouldn’t be able to enjoy watching them.

“I don’t suppose you want me tomorrow?” he forced himself to ask. The way things had gone that day it seemed almost brazen.

The farmer felt a bit uncomfortable as well.

“Not much point really, is there?” he said. It was difficult to avoid putting it like that. “What do you feel about it yourself? But let’s settle up for today anyway.”

“No! I didn’t do any work, you know I didn’t.”

“Oh, but you must have your pay.”

“Well, for two rows then,” said Mattis, almost frantically. “But no more. See how much it is.”

It was a difficult moment for both of them. Mattis saw the woman glance quickly at her husband. The farmer said: “Alright, we’ll leave it at that then. Two rows. Now we’re all square.”

The farmer paid up and uttered a few customary words of thanks.

“Hm!” Mattis mumbled to himself.

“Anything the matter?”

“No. Just all square. All square,” he mumbled to himself. These two impressive words sent a warm glow through him. That’s how men speak to men.

He took his hat.

“Well, that’s that,” he said by the door. The farmer and his wife looked at him, a little hesitantly.

BACK AT HOME Hege was sitting outside with her work. She had chosen a place that gave her a view of the path down from the main road. Mattis caught sight of her the moment he came into the clearing, she looked as insignificant as a little ball of wool.

From where he stood she seemed such a little thing. All huddled up. Nothing at all.

Wonder what it’s like inside her, he thought. Clever thing she was. It filled him with respect. Might be like a volcano in there, for all he knew.

She ought to have been the younger of them – he would have seen her while she was a tiny little mite then, and been able to spoon-feed her and watch food dribbling from the corners of her mouth. Yes, that should have been the other way round as well.

The shadows thrown by the trees began to grow longer. Evening was coming, and it was getting cool. Pleasant and refreshing when you’d been out in the heat and turmoil of the day.

Hege got up when he arrived.

“I suppose you’ve eaten?” she greeted him.

“You bet I have,” Mattis replied emphatically, pleased to be able to tell her about something he’d done well today. “No shortage of food where I was,” he added.

Hege started asking where he’d been and what he’d been doing, she wanted to know all about how he’d spent the day. And there was nothing to be done but tell her.

“And I stayed there at the farm until now.”

“I see.”

If only he’d been able to put a whole day’s pay down on the half-finished sweater.

“But things were all square,” he said quickly, “I was paid on the spot.”

“What did you get then?”

She was impossible on things like this.

“The money for the two rows, of course! If things were all square. Otherwise it would have been all wrong.”

“I see,” said Hege.

“Well, you know what things being all square means, don’t you? With all those sweaters you make.”

He became excited and his voice began to tremble. He went on hurriedly to tell Hege about the sweethearts.

“And then I asked the farmer’s wife questions she just couldn’t answer,” he said finally.

Hege said, irritated: “Again? More questions?”

“Yes, that’s the way she was,” said Mattis.

“Makes no difference, one day you’ll have to stop it,” said his sister sternly.

“Why?”

“Because it’s just silly,” said Hege bitterly.

He flinched and said no more. No mention was made of what he had asked the farmer’s wife. Hege knew already.

But later that evening Hege said she would come and see his woodcock – and he took this as her way of rewarding him for the unpleasant and difficult day he had spent working. He had come to regard the woodcock as almost his own creation. Hege followed him outside.

“It’s a good thing you came to your senses,” he said.

Outside it was quiet, just the right weather. Mattis looked eagerly in every direction and listened, full of expectation.

The bird came, bringing with it all those things for which there were no words. Hege felt it, too. A flash, a touch of the wing inside you, and it was gone again.

Hege didn’t say anything, but her attitude seemed at least friendly. Mattis said, deeply moved: “And it comes again and again.”

Now they could go to bed, Hege said, but he felt sure she was moved.

He laid his hand on her arm. Wanted to tell her that the house was different now, was somehow better than other houses, had been transformed. It was impossible to explain what he meant, but at least he could lay his hand on her arm.

“Now you’ve seen it,” was all he said. Without wanting to he made it sound as though he owned the bird. Hege, forgetting herself, said: “Well, it isn’t you who’s brought it here, is it? Anyone would think so, the way you’re talking.”

A slap in the face. He stared at her, frightened. Saying that sort of thing at a moment like this. The anger welled up inside him.

“What kind of person are you! Always spoiling things!”

“Hush now.”

He was not going to be hushed, looked around for something he could somehow use against her. The first thing his eyes fell upon were the two withered aspen trees. He forgot all the promises of good behavior he had made earlier, pointed to the trees: “Do you see those? I’ll tell you something: they’ve been named after the two of us. People never call them anything else! Now you know. It’s not just my name that’s been used, it’s yours as well.”

He expected to see Hege wither away. But nothing happened. She simply said, quite unperturbed: “Oh, so you know about that?”

He stared.

“I thought I was the only one of us who knew about it,” she said, patting him on the arm.

She stood there, the proudest person he’d ever known. A sudden change had come over her. She talked about the withered trees: “What harm do they do us? None at all. A stupid boyish game like that. It’s just childish.”

She grew in stature. And Mattis grew because he was standing next to her and was her brother, and because one of the withered treetops was his and could do him no harm.

All the same he couldn’t entirely agree with her. It was much easier for her to say things like that. But it was comforting to listen to her, and the sight of her gave him strength. She looked straight into his eyes and said in a firm voice: “And now we won’t mention this again. Let the trees stay there as long as they like. It’s no concern of ours.”

“Well, if that’s how you feel about it,” said Mattis. There was no more for him to say.

TWO DAYS LATER Hege said:

“Mattis, I think you ought to try again now.”

It sounded almost like an order.

“Go out and work?”

“Ask for work at least. Seeing you managed so well last time.”

“Things are going to be different now,” he replied, and showed no sign of obeying her.

Hege said sharply: “Well, can’t you go somewhere or other while you’re waiting for that to happen.”

It was early and it looked as though it was going to be a fine day. For two days Mattis had been sitting down on the shore, throwing stones and thinking. He had rowed about a bit and done some fishing, without catching anything, as usual. All Hege really wanted was to avoid seeing him sitting down there throwing those silly stones again and again. It wasn’t because of the work – that wouldn’t come to anything.

The sharp tone of her voice decided the issue.

“But not thinning out turnips!” he implored her.

“It doesn’t matter to me, you know, as long as you come back with some money,” said Hege showing no mercy.

“It depends on my thoughts,” said Mattis, “they decide in the end. You’re really a tough one,” he allowed himself to add.

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll turn out alright,” said Hege. “There are plenty of small jobs hereabouts for anyone who’s prepared to do them.”

How keen she was to get rid of him. She was more stubborn than before, more impatient, he told himself, heaping silent accusations upon her.