children’s bodies, limbs stretched out … boats in the warm breeze, laughter around him, women eating ices and asking him now and then, in friendly tones, what time it was, and his books, probability calculus or algebra, on a towel, a little sand on the paper, numbers and letters half hidden, his eyes veiled … young bodies brown from the sun, leaping about, jumping head first into clear, cold water from a wet wooden landing stage, not far away, a cool breeze on his skin. And the feeling of being drawn gently, carefully, deeper and deeper into a beautiful nightmare.
Marjatta came out of the sauna, put down her towel and jumped into the water.
He had been thrown on his own resources, alone – worse than alone.
Until Pärssinen came along and asked him into his flat. Everything was energy, nothing was chance. Nothing simply happened. He had sensed that when he first crossed the threshold of Pärssinen’s flat.
Venetian blinds drawn down. Dappled sunlight on the floor. Pärssinen had poured plum schnapps into shot glasses, put a film into the projector and unrolled the screen. While the film was running Pärssinen kept quiet, he always did then.
Aku came towards him. He ran, stumbled, slipped and ran on. Armed with a pistol. He laughed, sprayed water in Korvensuo’s face, asked if he’d like to play with their ball with them.
‘Let your old man get a bit of rest,’ said Timo Korvensuo.
Aku ran back to the landing stage, where Laura and Marjatta were kicking a brightly coloured ball about. Aku shouted that he was goalie now.
Korvensuo felt the water on his skin. Pleasantly cool. Marjatta didn’t seem to notice anything, thought he just had a hangover. He did, too. It happened rarely enough.
Aku saved a shot and clutched the ball like a trophy. Laura snatched it from his hands and kicked it back to Marjatta. Laura was a pretty girl. He loved her.
Pia Lehtinen. So that had been her name. It made no difference. He had never known her name, and he had seen her face for the first time the previous evening, in a photo on the news. An old photo.
Pärssinen had been lying on top of her, had covered her face, and it had also been Pärssinen who dragged her to the boot of the car. He had stood to one side, looking at the bicycle the whole time. He had straightened the handlebars.
He would call Pekka and tell Marjatta his plans. It would be a little difficult, he’d have to make a great effort to lie to her, but there was no help for it. He had to do something, he didn’t know what, but something … it would be best to stay on this chair, not moving … but he had to call Pekka, go into the house and call Pekka while the three of them were playing down there. Pekka might be annoyed. Maybe he’d wonder what was up, or maybe not.
He stood up. Turned round, then round the other way, and went indoors. He stood at the window, practising in the silence the words he was going to say.
Then he dialled the number. Pekka answered. His voice sounded young and relaxed.
‘Hello, Timo here,’ said Korvensuo.
‘Hi, how are you doing? Still out there by the lake?’
‘Yes. Yes, we are.’
‘I was going to call you anyway and say thanks for yesterday. It was a great evening.’
‘Thank you, I’ll pass that on to Marjatta. I … listen, I thought of something I’d totally forgotten. I have to be in Turku at the beginning of the week. There’s a major project in the offing, some properties in Helsinki, but the potential buyer lives in Turku and I’d fixed to meet him.’
‘I see … did you mention this before?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Well, that’s a relief, because I don’t remember anything about it. A major project, you said?’
‘That’s right, but we’re only in the early stages. That’s why I didn’t want to make a big thing of it.’
‘What properties are they?’
‘Well … an estate of terraced houses. We’d be handling all the sales for the housing estate, but it’s still at the
Marjatta came out of the sauna, put down her towel and jumped into the water.
He had been thrown on his own resources, alone – worse than alone.
Until Pärssinen came along and asked him into his flat. Everything was energy, nothing was chance. Nothing simply happened. He had sensed that when he first crossed the threshold of Pärssinen’s flat.
Venetian blinds drawn down. Dappled sunlight on the floor. Pärssinen had poured plum schnapps into shot glasses, put a film into the projector and unrolled the screen. While the film was running Pärssinen kept quiet, he always did then.
Aku came towards him. He ran, stumbled, slipped and ran on. Armed with a pistol. He laughed, sprayed water in Korvensuo’s face, asked if he’d like to play with their ball with them.
‘Let your old man get a bit of rest,’ said Timo Korvensuo.
Aku ran back to the landing stage, where Laura and Marjatta were kicking a brightly coloured ball about. Aku shouted that he was goalie now.
Korvensuo felt the water on his skin. Pleasantly cool. Marjatta didn’t seem to notice anything, thought he just had a hangover. He did, too. It happened rarely enough.
Aku saved a shot and clutched the ball like a trophy. Laura snatched it from his hands and kicked it back to Marjatta. Laura was a pretty girl. He loved her.
Pia Lehtinen. So that had been her name. It made no difference. He had never known her name, and he had seen her face for the first time the previous evening, in a photo on the news. An old photo.
Pärssinen had been lying on top of her, had covered her face, and it had also been Pärssinen who dragged her to the boot of the car. He had stood to one side, looking at the bicycle the whole time. He had straightened the handlebars.
He would call Pekka and tell Marjatta his plans. It would be a little difficult, he’d have to make a great effort to lie to her, but there was no help for it. He had to do something, he didn’t know what, but something … it would be best to stay on this chair, not moving … but he had to call Pekka, go into the house and call Pekka while the three of them were playing down there. Pekka might be annoyed. Maybe he’d wonder what was up, or maybe not.
He stood up. Turned round, then round the other way, and went indoors. He stood at the window, practising in the silence the words he was going to say.
Then he dialled the number. Pekka answered. His voice sounded young and relaxed.
‘Hello, Timo here,’ said Korvensuo.
‘Hi, how are you doing? Still out there by the lake?’
‘Yes. Yes, we are.’
‘I was going to call you anyway and say thanks for yesterday. It was a great evening.’
‘Thank you, I’ll pass that on to Marjatta. I … listen, I thought of something I’d totally forgotten. I have to be in Turku at the beginning of the week. There’s a major project in the offing, some properties in Helsinki, but the potential buyer lives in Turku and I’d fixed to meet him.’
‘I see … did you mention this before?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Well, that’s a relief, because I don’t remember anything about it. A major project, you said?’
‘That’s right, but we’re only in the early stages. That’s why I didn’t want to make a big thing of it.’
‘What properties are they?’
‘Well … an estate of terraced houses. We’d be handling all the sales for the housing estate, but it’s still at the
Similar Books
