The Birds (13 page)

The girls liked this heavy work, they laughed and laughed, went and fetched a decent scoop and bailed the boat properly. There was a hole a little way up on one side, but Mattis thought of something
at once, pulled off one of his socks and stood poking bits of it into the hole with his knife.

“That’ll do as long as there’s nobody in it,” he said, “this place’ll be above the water then.”

He felt quite dizzy busying himself with all this right under their eyes, and succeeding as well.

And Anna said too: “We can see you know all about boats.”

Mattis laughed proudly.

“Just wait a bit,” he said.

He had a great secret he was soon going to tell them: he was an expert rower, too. And he was going to insist on having the oars.

His own boat was tied to the girls’ by the mooring rope. Inger was already sitting down and taking hold of the oars in her accustomed way.

“Oh no you don’t!” said Mattis. “It’s me who’s going to do the rowing of course.”

“Is it?”

What a moment this was.

“Yes, maybe I know even more about rowing!”

“Well, of course, then, you’d obviously better row. And besides you’re a man.”

“That’s true,” he said.

“And I know a lot about stopping up holes,” he added.

“Yes, there’s no doubt you’ll have to give way, Inger,” said Anna.

Inger sat down beside Anna in the back of the boat. Mattis, as the master, took up the oars.

“I didn’t want to tell you about this really,” he said to the girls. He felt so sure of himself at the moment a fresh fib didn’t really matter.

“About what?”

“The rowing, of course.”

Mattis was bubbling over with confidence. He’d never been so glad about being able to row before. He even felt he could match himself against the clever ones, if need be. He set off with long, steady strokes.

“Nice piece of work,” he said.

“Our boat?”

“Yes, of course.”

“What else?” he asked when he’d had time to think it over.

They laughed, relieved and happy.

“Oh, nothing else.”

“Well, you can land wherever you like,” said Inger. “We’re in no particular hurry, all we’ve got to do is get back home in time for supper, and we’re only lazing about here anyway.”

“I’ve set my course,” Mattis replied curtly.

This was how it should be. This was what he ought to have been able to say about so many things: I know all about this. And: I’ve set my course. And much more. His strokes slackened and became uneven.

“Hey, wake up!” they shouted at him.

He gave a start. The girls looked inclined to tease him.

“You almost fell asleep, Per.”

“Oh shoot!” he said, stifling his dream.

The boat in the tow came bobbing and bouncing behind them, got along quite well as long as there was nobody in it.

Mattis looked at the girls. They could have little idea of what they’d done for him today.

“Anna and Inger,” he said, from the bottom of his heart.

They looked at him expectantly. It was the tone of his voice. But he said no more.

“Now make sure you row in a dead straight line after all that boasting,” they said, playing with their toes in the bottom of the boat. They somehow felt that this strange person had managed to thank them for something, and their sense of joy went right down to their toes.

“I always row dead straight, it’s the only thing I can do,” Mattis blurted out, and gave a start – but fortunately they didn’t seem to have heard this last careless remark.

“Bah,” they said.

At first Mattis steered straight for home. Then he thought of a better plan: he’d row where there were people. He wanted to be seen with the girls, this was an opportunity not to be missed. He’d put in at the old pier by the store, where there were lots of houses all
around. There was bound to be someone walking past who’d see this unusual landing.

I’ll arrive like a prince, he thought. All who wish may come and watch.

“We’ll row up to the pier by the store where I do my shopping first,” he announced, “there are bound to be people there who’ll see us.”

“People who see us? What’s the point of that?” they asked together.

He didn’t understand.

“Don’t tell me you’re conceited, Per?” asked Inger, letting her forefinger trail lazily in the water as they rowed along.

“Conceited?” he said, mystified.

He saw Anna make a sign to Inger. Inger said quickly:

“Of course we’ll land wherever it suits you best, not another word about it.”

Behind Mattis the wake of the boat lay as straight as a die. Now it swung round abruptly as he changed course for the pier and people. Above him the day towered like a great arch.

Hege won’t believe a word of this when I get home. I ought to have rowed them there as well. But arriving at the pier like this is top of the list, all the same.

“The very top of the list,” he said in a loud voice, deliberately making it sound meaningless.

“What do you mean, Per?”

“Today, of course! Day of all days.”

Things were working properly inside his head.

“Very nicely put,” they said. They kept on praising him for the things he said.

Inger said: “We will remember today, too, Per.”

But her words cast a shadow over Mattis. Remember. They were going to go away, were going to remember this meeting somewhere else, in a strange place, without him. That must never be!

The girls had begun to pay close attention to him by now, and Anna asked at once: “Anything wrong?”

He gave a might pull at the oars, and then another. Inger realized at once what she ought to say.

“Surely you can see there’s nothing the matter with him, Anna.”

She’s the really clever one, Mattis thought, and gazed enraptured at Inger.

Yes, he was looking straight at them now – even though they were almost naked. The shyness he had felt on the island had vanished, they were like old friends now.

“Anna and Inger,” he said from where he sat.

They waited.

Nothing more. It was enough.

The pier and the houses were rapidly drawing nearer. Mattis increased the speed still more. It was a difficult choice: if he rowed
slowly, this wonderful moment would last even longer – if he rowed at top speed, the girls would be gone sooner, but they’d remember what a great rower he was. He chose the latter, all things considered.

“Gosh! are we going to go even faster, Per?” the girls asked, delighted.

He’d made the right choice.

“We can never go too fast,” said Mattis, “but you wouldn’t understand that. Now have a look, as you’re facing that way, and see if you can spot anyone on the pier, or on the road near by.”

“Don’t see anybody, but then we’re too far away.”

Anna saw something: “There goes a car.”

“Cars don’t count,” said Mattis, “they just rush past without seeing anything.”

After a little while Anna said, from her lookout post:

“There’s a man standing on the pier now – but I can’t see which way he’s facing.”

Inger added: “Someone’s just come out of the store, Per. It looks as though there’s going to be a reception.”

“Now they’ve gone, Per, both of them.”

Mattis was being peppered with information. He heaved and strained at the oars, more than was good for him. But he had to make this landing look impressive, whatever the cost. Never again in his whole life would he have the chance of arriving in such style, with two radiant girls sitting in the boat.

“People have seen us now,” said Anna. “There are a couple of boys standing staring at us. We can see things better now, how big they are, and which way people are facing and everything.”

“Oh, boys,” sad Mattis coldly, “we don’t want too many of them.”

“Someone on a bike has just stopped.”

“No, he’s going into the store.”

“Oh, well. Still, things have started happening,” said Mattis earnestly. He was beginning to feel very tired, and his arms were numb. Fast rowing like this was not his forte, but he wasn’t going to give in now. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder, saw a number of people on the pier. And then he directed all his attention to keeping the wake dead straight to the very last.

More people had stopped and were beginning to congregate on the pier now – when they saw it was Simple Simon, but a Simple Simon quite unlike the one they knew. And it was a landing worth stopping for: like some triumphant victor from distant shores the shining boat came gliding in in the glittering sun, and in the back sat two golden girls, waving with lazy, friendly gestures in the direction of the pier. And Mattis was in command, knew everything about rowing, steered safely and securely, anything but a simpleton.

Everything was going off perfectly, down to the very last detail.

Mattis’s own boat was still in tow, but it had taken in some water, which made the going heavier. All the same, Mattis managed to keep his speed up until he was forced to turn to avoid the supports
under the pier. No one watching realized how close he had come to exhaustion – but anyway, his strength was returning now, in the sheer excitement and joy of it all.

There was quite a little crowd waiting on the pier to receive them. Five or six, at least. And how many those six could tell the story afterward! That was the point. Six times six times six. At least.

Mattis had had time to consider how he was going to round the whole thing off, and now the moment had arrived. As the boat glided in toward the edge of the pier, the master rose with dignity from his seat and laid down the oars on either side of him.

“Well, you’ll have to take over yourselves now, girls,” he said quietly, but loud enough for everybody to hear. “We’ve reached land.”

“They can see that for themselves, I should think,” came the glib rejoinder from a boy. But he was silenced at once by a voice from the crowd.

“Oh shut up!”

“Now I just want my boat back,” Mattis continued, turning toward the girls.

There was a radiant smile on the girls’ faces.

The little crowd on land stood spellbound, not daring to move. For one thing there were the two self-confident girls, but it wasn’t just that – Simple Simon himself had managed everything without a hitch, and with such ease that they hardly recognized him. The
boy had another try though, in his whining voice, standing looking down into Mattis’s wreck of a boat: “Been on the bottom, Mattis?”

Mattis didn’t seem to hear him. Calmly he untied his boat from the new one. Then he turned to the girls once more: “Anna and Inger,” he said, in the special way their names had to be spoken.

They looked up at him, standing where he was on the edge of the pier, trying to control his emotions.

“Thanks for the trip,” he said, in the midst of all the people. It was an entirely new experience for him to be standing like this, saying things like this, to people like this.

The golden girls, Anna and Inger, said: “Thank you, Per. We’ll never forget this.”

I think I’d like to die now, he suddenly thought. But he checked himself. No, on second thought, then I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it any longer.

The boy shrilled: “Per? He’s not called Per at all. This is Mattis.”

It felt like a stab in the back – but if only it stopped there. If only the boy didn’t blurt out the whole truth: this is Simple Simon. That’s what we call him. Oh God, they mustn’t say it.

He counted the seconds,

And he was spared. It must have been Anna and Inger that did it, he thought. They were standing up in the boat now, young and glorious, and so obviously on his side, gazing coldly at the boy every time he opened his mouth.

“Mattis or Per, it’s all the same to us,” they said proudly, putting the wretched youth in his place and shutting him up.

They made round, swinging movements with their arms: “See you around then, Per, and thanks. We’ll be off home now, too. Perhaps we’ll meet again someday.”

The girls moved off. Mattis stood swallowing. But he held his head up. Then he had to go and tie his old hulk to an iron hook.

The five or six people who were standing there didn’t ask any questions, something had taken hold of them. They were embarrassed somehow. One of them even said to Mattis: “They’re waving to you.”

Mattis straightened up quickly and waved back. The boat was rapidly growing smaller. The girls, too, were good at rowing, but of course it was easier now.

Then someone in the crowd plucked up courage: “Well, you’ve got yourself involved in something alright, Mattis.”

Mattis didn’t flinch.

“Yes, I have,” he said.

The boy came to life again: “Going to take them for any more trips?”

“Maybe,” Mattis replied calmly.

He believed it. No sooner had he said it than it was true. Why shouldn’t it happen again?

“We’ve been up to all sorts of things today,” he added, looking straight at the boy.

Someone laughed, but it wasn’t an unpleasant laugh. At least, it didn’t seem like that to Mattis. He’d finished here, and could walk away. The people on the pier were his friends, they’d been kind and hadn’t exposed him. He didn’t really walk, though, it was more as though he was being borne home to Hege on wings. On the way he kept an eye on the lake: the boat was growing smaller and smaller – and that was that.

THE EXCITEMENT HAD subsided a little by the time he got home. Just about right, he’d be able to tell the whole story in an orderly manner. The happy boat had disappeared behind blue headlands – Mattis realized it was gone for good. The girls would be leaving, and he wasn’t likely ever to meet them again.

But all the same, the event was undeniably true and great. There was no need to add a single little lie to what he was going to tell his sister, the truth itself was more than enough. Hege seemed to be busier than usual with her knitting as she listened to him, giving only the occasional murmured reply.

“You’re listening, aren’t you?” he asked, “because things like this only happen once in a lifetime, you know.”

“Of course,” she replied, “I’ve heard every word, I could repeat the whole thing.”

The sad significance of only once and never again was lost on him for the moment. He was still using it to cast a golden glow over the event.