sad eye, I thought I’d never be happy ever again, just like the day when Lena left. But then Lena herself piped up.
“Hello? Are we going to start a retirement home or aren’t we?” she said indignantly, pulling me by the jacket. “Surely a horse can’t be finished off that quickly!”
And she ran outside. All Grandpa and I could do was follow her. As we were starting the moped, Hilltop Jon came tottering out onto the step. He waved at us, with many different emotions showing on his face.
“Drive, Grandpa! Drive like a madman!” I shouted, hoping we might be able to catch up with the next ferry.
And Grandpa drove. I understood for the first time why Mom didn’t want us to sit in that box. Even Lena looked a little scared as we went down the hill. We were going so fast and bumping around so terribly that I bit my tongue three times. But still we weren’t going fast enough.
“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
“Hello? Are we going to start a retirement home or aren’t we?” she said indignantly, pulling me by the jacket. “Surely a horse can’t be finished off that quickly!”
And she ran outside. All Grandpa and I could do was follow her. As we were starting the moped, Hilltop Jon came tottering out onto the step. He waved at us, with many different emotions showing on his face.
“Drive, Grandpa! Drive like a madman!” I shouted, hoping we might be able to catch up with the next ferry.
And Grandpa drove. I understood for the first time why Mom didn’t want us to sit in that box. Even Lena looked a little scared as we went down the hill. We were going so fast and bumping around so terribly that I bit my tongue three times. But still we weren’t going fast enough.
“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
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