21
1945
Tuula went into the butcher’s and was met by the metallic smell of meat. It was chilly in here, a sharp contrast to the early-summer warmth that had swept into the village over the last twenty-four hours. She joined the line; there were only three people in front of her. She was planning to buy a steak and cook it for Aino and Heikki to thank them for watching the children this evening so that she could have dinner with Nils.
She had left Matias at home in the yard, playing marbles with some of the other boys on their street. Ritva, however, was still struggling to make friends. Tuula had found her trying to hide her tears the night before. The children had teased her, and the teacher had done nothing. Tuula was distraught, and the faint spark of hope she had felt was instantly extinguished. Instead, her mind swirled with anxious thoughts as she waited her turn. She had urged Ritva to keep a low profile, keep to herself and avoid the other children, but was their life always going to be like this?
When it was her turn, the assistant turned to a man who stood behind Tuula. “What can I get you, sir?”
The man was confused, and gestured in Tuula’s direction. “I think this lady was before me.”
The assistant ignored Tuula and kept her eyes focused on the man. Tuula had no idea what to do. She eventually stepped back to allow the man to go ahead. She stood there waiting as the assistant served the next customer. And the next.
The insults that were sometimes flung at her in the village were nothing compared to this humiliation. She wanted to protest, but she didn’t want to draw even more attention to herself. Yet that made her despise herself. Why was she accepting this?
Forty minutes later the store was empty, and Tuula walked up to the counter. She cleared her throat. “I’d like a pound of beef, please.”
The assistant still refused to look at her. She began wiping down the counter with a frayed cloth.
“Excuse me,” Tuula ventured, but to no avail. Rage and humiliation surged through her, but Tuula suppressed her feelings. “Excuse me,” she said again, her voice trembling.
At long last the assistant went over to a piece of meat on the shelf behind her, chopped off the end with the most bone and gristle, wrapped it, and weighed it.
The assistant slammed the package down on the counter without making eye contact, then nodded toward the price label to indicate that Tuula could work out the cost for herself. Tuula handed over a coin. She should have received some change, but she couldn’t bear to stay in this woman’s presence for a second longer. She picked up her meat and hurried outside, tears pricking behind her eyelids.
She almost felt like laughing scornfully at herself—how could she have imagined that she and the children would be able to live a normal life here? They would always be regarded as second-class citizens. The fucking Finns weren’t wanted here.
And tonight she was having dinner with Nils Eklund, the golden boy of the village. Who did she think she was?
She turned her face up to the bright summer sun, as if she could burn away her tears. There was no way she could go out with him.
When she got home, Matias was still playing with the boys. Ritva was sitting in the yard doing homework. Tuula hurried upstairs and switched on the oven. She had spent so long at the butcher’s that she was now running late. She placed the beef in a roasting tin, added seasoning, sliced a couple of onions and put them in beside the meat, dotted the whole thing with butter, and put it in the oven. It wasn’t the best cut of beef, but hopefully there would be enough for everyone.
Then she sank down at the kitchen table. She really ought to get ready. Aino had lent her a pair of pumps, and they were standing in the corner like a bad joke. What was the point of wearing nice shoes when everyone thought she was the most repulsive creature in the world?
She had intended to wear her thin cotton dress with the pumps and Aino’s spring coat. She also had some hair curlers that Aino had borrowed from Lydia, and if Aino had time she was going to come down and help her with them.
It was time to do her hair, change her clothes, apply her eyebrow pencil and mascara. A dab of rouge on her cheekbones, a slick of lipstick. The lipstick was one of the last things she had tossed into her suitcase before she left home. She had felt incredibly vain, thinking about lipstick in the middle of a raging war, with a dead husband, and two small children to take care of. But it carried the hope of normality, a faint promise of a life where it might be possible to think of such trivialities.
That hope now seemed very distant.
There was a knock on the door, and she pulled herself together.
A beaming Aino was waiting outside. “Something smells delicious!” she said as she came in.
“There’s a pot roast in the oven—you can take it downstairs if you’d rather eat at home.”
“Thank you! So? Are you excited? I am!” Aino’s smile suddenly vanished. “But you haven’t changed! Or done your hair! I mean, you’re beautiful as you are, but I thought ... You need to hurry, he’ll be here soon to pick you up.”
“I can’t go.” Tuula swallowed hard. “I’ll have to let him know.”
“Let him know? How are you going to do that?”
“I’ll have to go over there, or maybe you could do it for me.”
“But why? He’ll be here in half an hour—you can’t cancel now.”
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Aino took hold of both of Tuula’s hands and looked her in the eye. “Is this because of Juhani? Don’t you think he’d want you to be happy? Say it’s time to move on?”
“It’s not that, it’s ... I don’t belong here. What will people think of me and Nils? Nobody wants me here—can I really expose Nils to that?”
“Oh, Tuula—Nils is a grown man, he can make up his own mind. He likes you. Don’t pay any attention to what other people in the village think of you. They’re nothing but country bumpkins if you ask me.” Aino smiled. “If they haven’t got anything else to talk about apart from you and Nils, then let them carry on.”
She pushed Tuula into a chair, fetched a brush, and attacked Tuula’s hair. “That’s better! Now go and get changed. Then I’ll put your hair up while you do your face.”
There was no point in arguing. Tuula went into her room and slipped on her cotton dress and a cardigan. Then she sat down in front of the mirror in her bedroom and did her makeup while Aino swept up her hair. At the last second Tuula removed the curlers, put on Aino’s coat, and said good night to the children. At seven fifteen she was outside, waiting for Nils.
And there he was, wearing a gray suit with a dark-blue tie and hat, looking as stylish as ever. He smiled warmly at her. As they walked down the main street, she could feel people watching, but Nils acted as if everything was fine, cheerfully greeting everyone they met. They made their way down to the river, then across the bridge toward the square. The familiar tang of the sea was in the air, and Tuula thought she could smell the blossoms from the gardens they passed.
When they reached the restaurant, Nils opened the heavy door for her. The heels of Tuula’s pumps sank into the thick red carpet in the foyer. Tuula tensed as they approached the ma?tre d’, but he welcomed them effusively and then showed them to their table in the dining room. Tall windows ran the length of the walls, lined with heavy green velvet drapes. A huge crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room, and Tuula could hear the sound of silver cutlery on bone china, and the clink of crystal glasses. It was the most elegant place she had ever been.
Nils pulled out her chair, and she sat down on the soft leather seat. He sat down opposite her and ordered a glass of sherry for each of them. Tuula took the menu from the ma?tre d’ and studied it. They both chose a traditional dish of sprats with eggs on crispbread as an appetizer; then Nils ordered sirloin steak and persuaded Tuula to do the same.
As they sipped their sherry from small crystal glasses, Nils asked Tuula about Finland and her hometown, and she regaled him with memories. The sherry was very warming.
“Thank you for inviting us to the game on Monday. Matias has been talking about it all week.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “Do you have any hobbies?”
Hobbies. That is something for people with spare time, she thought. Back home she had had her hands full looking after the children, working in the hotel, and running her household. There must have been things she enjoyed doing before Juhani left, but she could hardly remember those days now. She had enjoyed her garden, when it hadn’t just been about survival. She loved growing flowers—fragrant climbing sweet peas, clematis, delphiniums, marguerite daisies, foxgloves, and columbine, among so many others. And she had read novels, especially in the fall and winter, when it was dark outside and the garden was dormant.
She looked at Nils. “I haven’t really had much time for hobbies since the war started.”
“No, of course not. I’m sorry, it was a thoughtless question.”
“Not at all. Things were different before the war. I always enjoyed my garden. And I love reading.”
“Have you visited the library here in the village?”
“Not yet.”
“You should go—it’s not very big, but they have a good selection. And then of course there’s the bookstore on the main street.”
The appetizer that was set before her was delicious. Tuula could barely speak while she was eating, and tried not to gobble it up in seconds. She carefully put down her knife and fork while she was chewing, and made an effort to chat.
The waiter wheeled the main course over on a cart. He lifted the cloche, sliced the steak, transferred it to a warm plate, and placed it in front of Tuula. He did the same for Nils, then served up boiled potatoes and a generous helping of sauce.
The meat was tender and the potatoes perfectly cooked. Nils had ordered red wine, and Tuula was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol. She restricted herself to a few small sips.
They enjoyed pears poached with cinnamon and served with whipped cream for dessert, followed by coffee. By the time they had finished eating, Tuula was so full she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to get up from her chair.
Nils paid the bill, then looked at her. “I know you have to get home to the children, but shall we go for a little walk first?”
“I’d love to—I should walk off some of our dinner!”
Twilight was falling, but the sky was still light. As they crossed the square, Nils took her hand. As they walked side by side, her shoulder touched his upper arm, making her feel safe and secure.
He showed her the apartment where he and his brother had been born, where they had played hide-and-seek while his mother did the shopping, where he had learned to ride a bike, and where they bought ice cream in the summer. Where you could clamber down into the river for a quick dip. She loved seeing the village from his perspective; it made the place feel a little more like hers.
They stopped by the entrance to her house, and Nils looked at her.
“Thank you for this evening, Tuula.”
“No, thank you. Thank you for dinner—I’ve really enjoyed myself.”
“Me too. It’s ...” Nils broke off, gazed up at the sky and the stars as if he were hoping to find the words written there. “It’s so easy to talk to you, to spend time with you. You make me feel good.”
Tuula smiled. She felt exactly the same way about him.
He bent down and kissed her with those soft, warm lips. Yes, he definitely made her feel alive.