Grandma

Back on Danish ground they stopped at the first bigger rest area. "We'd better phone Dina and Kurt to tell them we're coming, and ask if they need anything," Mom said.
"I'll fill up the car too, it's no fun to run out of gas in the middle of nowhere," Dad said.
Linda and Susan went off to use the bathrooms and buy some magazines, now that they finally could read them with ease again. When they returned, Dad and Mom had long since returned. Mom had placed a shopping bag with a grilled hen and some cans of asparagus under her seat, and on her lap were three packages of ready made tartlets.
"I know that the filling for these are normally made from boiled, not grilled hen, but there's no way we can boil a hen in time for a merely late dinner. As it is, it'll still be late. Dina is making the sauce as we're driving, then we can assemble it all when we arrive."
Susan and Linda sat in each their corner of the back-seat of the car. Linda was mad because they were not going home, and Susan was sad because she wanted to get to Unicorn Island in a hurry. She could not read in the car, as it made her sick, and even thinking of becoming sick made her feel queasy.
  Mum suggested singing something together. And after a zillion iterations of Frère Jaques in English, French and Danish, Susan felt a bit better, and Linda was not glowering any more.

  They crossed a small bridge, and Mum said: "Soon you'll see the water to the right, and then we'll cross the big bridge. After that it's not far to Aunt Dina's summerhouse."
"That big bridge?" Linda asked.
"The one with the arches?" Susan asked.
"I bet we'll meet a train in the middle once again." Linda said.
"I don't like that bridge," Susan said, "Those who built it, did not measure accurately. One half is way longer than the other."
Susan and Linda looked at one another, and as they sighted the water and the ramp leading to the bridge they began singing:

"Oh we do never ever more
want to cross that big bad bridge.
For one half of it is long
and the other half is short,
and every time we reach the middle
A train comes rolling by!"

They repeated this homemade verse several times all the way up on the bridge, over it, under the pylons - where they of course were met by a rapidly rolling German train going in the opposite direction - and all the way off the bridge. Mum and Dad had had more than enough of this song when the car finally set wheels on Zealand.

Dad drove very fast, they joked about him getting a ticket for speeding should a police car be situated near by, but none such were abroad in the balmy June night.
They arrived at Dina and Kurt's summerhouse ate the "assembled" tartelets with lots of soft drinks and a beer for Dad and Kurt. then they slept.

***

Next morning Kurt was in a bad temper, he had always been choleric, but this morning was bad. It was the lack of his favorite morning cereals that brought on the fit. In the end Dina drove up to the supermarket near the bridge to go shopping before breakfast.
"Now, I have something on our agenda for today," uncle Kurt said. And over breakfast he and aunt Dina told of their newest investments. Land.
"They are selling plots very cheap near one of the roads. If we buy them now, we can sell them later for a profit." Kurt enthused. "We looked at some plots last Wednesday, and we'd like you to come and see them as well. The man selling them is a former pawnbroker, he has already made a minor fortune buying and selling plots."
Mom sighed: "Well I trust your discernment, but I must admit that I've been looking forward to a relaxing day and a bath."
"Oh yes," Dina added, "and I want you to try my new Carmen curlers. They are fantastic."

A big, yellow dog came lolloping in, and brought a halt to the conversation. "Oh Hi. Rusty, old boy," Dina said and patted the big, fawning dog "Now mind that tail of yours."
Linda jumped. "Rusty! Then Wilma and Beth are here as well. May I leave the table." Mom nodded and Linda rushed out.
"Well Susan, I don't suppose you're keen to go plot-hunting with Dad, Uncle Kurt and Wilma and Beth's dad either, are you?" Mom asked.
"Oh, no," Susan answered, "I think I'll go visit the magician's family."
"Fine, then Aunt Dina and I'll have a girl's day in peace and quiet," mom said.
Susan ate slowly, and when the men had left, returned for a ruler, and left again, Aunt Dina turned on the radio. Harry Belafonte's voice filled the room:
Down the way
Where the nights are gay
And the sun shines daily on the mountaintop
I took a trip on a sailing ship
And when I reached Jamaica I made a stop ...
     Susan started singing together with him:
Down at the market you can hear
Ladies cry out while on their heads they bear
Ackee, rice, saltfish are nice
And the rum is fine any time o' year
But I'm sad to say I'm on my way
Won't be back for many a day
My heart is down
My head is turning around
I had to leave a little girl in Kingston town.
"I wonder what it is these crying ladies are carrying on their heads," Susan wondered. "The way he articulates the words are very charming, but not easy to understand. I'll have to ask my music teacher when summer holidays are done. Maybe he knows. Or my English teacher, she's younger, she'll be more understanding. And she loves funny words. I remember when she gave us a text containing anosmia. None of us knew what it meant, and we had the craziest guesses. Yes. I'll ask her."

Susan carried her plates to the sink and waved goodbye to Mom and Aunt Dina.

***

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained could almost be the motto of my life right now, Susan thought as she looked through the car window. The fields of the quiet farmlands were slowly giving way to sprawling industrial complexes and square living blocks of the suburbs of the town. Doll houses for giants was a phrase she and Linda had coined for those dreary living commodes on a past ride. They imagined at night when people were sleeping, the giant children would arrive, pulling out one floor of the blocks like giant drawers and play with furniture and inhabitants. This had to be the reason why so many people often woke up somewhere else, with hurting bodies and not knowing how they arrived there. And also - more innocently - why people could never find car keys, umbrellas, books, glasses and so on.
  But today Susan felt angry. Their stay at Unicorn island had been cut short. Only one day had Susan been able to go to the Farm and join the lessons. Then something had happened in the world and doings of grown-ups, and now they were on their way back to Susan's home town.
  And to add insult to injury, Linda was happy they were going home! She had obviously fallen out with Beth and Wilma, just as dad with their dad. Now she sat on her end of the backseat demonstratively humming happy going home tunes.
  Susan stuffed her fingers in her ears and tried to concentrate on the book in her lap.
  But she was going to show them!
  The Unicorn Farm had a few rooms for boarders, and she had asked for permission to stay in one of these. Now she just had to find a way to get back to Unicorn Farm to use that room. She really needed to. She had so much to tell and to ask. That whole story with the Gargoyle and the werewolves. And the magic bestiary. Thousands of questions bubbled in Susan's brain.

"Mom, why don't we visit Grandma and grandad?" Susan asked. It was a long shot, but Susan knew that Mom would like to visit her mother, and they were very near the place where she lived.
"Oh yes," Mom sighed, "why don't we. It is such a long ride down here, and I'm sure she would be happy to see us. It would be a perfect end to this not so nice visit to my home town."

"OK," Dad said. "nobody's expecting us at home before Monday anyway. Let's raid the baker in town, while you 'phone auntie G and tell her to inform your mother that we're passing by."
"No, no, no!" Linda said, kicking Susan's shin soundly. "I want to go home! I want to be together with my friends, and my Mario-game is out of battery yet again. I think something's the matter with it."
"Now, Linda, don't be silly." Dad said. "Mom should be allowed to see her mother too, now we're so close. And give me that dastard thing. I'll get some new batteries and look at it. I'm not an electrician for nothing, girl. And I bet you'll have fun playing with your cousins when we arrive."
Luckily Auntie G was at home and yes, they could visit. Granny and grandad were at home too, and the gooseberries were ripe. 
Granny and grandad lived on a giant plot in a still rural area not far from the bigger town. They lived in a small, old timber-framed house in the end of the plot nearest the brook. In the other end lived auntie G, Mom's older sister with her three girls, all older that Susan, in a house she had built herself. Auntie G was a strong, independent spirit. She played the violin, and almost any other musical instrument, only not wind instruments. Susan adored her, Linda did not much care for her, but the three girls were fun to play with. They liked to tease and teach their younger cousins. Their idea of fun, was to gather all the children of the small hamlet, drag them around in the gigantic garden in a blanket and throw them into the air using the same blanket and the four oldest children each holding a corner of the blanket. Together they also sailed on the brook in Grandad's boat, made things from straws, harvested apples, carrots, gooseberries and what else needed picking in granny's big garden.  Occasionally someone got wet, and Granny's clothesline was always filled up after such a day. They also played tag in the garden, Susan and Linda both remembered NOT to hold onto the nasty Devil's walking stick growing temptingly on a sharp corner, but one of the other girls were forgetful of the danger and got her hand lacerated by the many sharp thorns.
  Then it was time for gooseberry picking, many of the children from near by went home, Granny handed out bowls. But first she and the youngest of Auntie G's girls caught the rooster inside the hen house. Rasmus, as the rooster was called, was a very angry specimen, he was big and beautiful with big, sharp spurs which he liked to use. Granny picked up an old broom, she kept handy for this purpose, Lena hid behind the door to the chicken coop, and as soon as granny had chased Rasmus the Rooster inside, she slammed the door and latched it. Rasmus' sad crowings could be heard wide and far while they picked all the ripe gooseberries.
  As darkness fell, Linda and the two of the thee cousins sat outside Granny's kitchen, cleaning the gooseberries, while Susan, auntie G and the middle cousin went to Auntie G's house. There Auntie G pulled out a fiddle which she handed to Helen, she strummed a guitar and gave it to Susan, then she grabbed her accordion. She placed herself so that Susan could watch her left hand: "This is A minor," she told Susan, placing her fingers on the relevant keys, "And this is C." She quickly showed Susan the most used chords. "If I play a chord you haven't seen, or do not recognize, just continue with the one you came from, until you grasp the next one. Let's try the Riddle Song." Helen placed the violin under her chin, placed the bow on the strings and counted 1, 2, 3.
The first repetition was awful, Helen forgot to sing and Auntie G shook her head. "No, Susan, hat was A minor, not E. Let's try again." Slowly Susan learned, and the fifth time around she hit the right chords every time. They played and sung all 8 verses, and applauded themselves on a job well done.
Lena came and told them that dinner was ready. They all gathered in granny's small living room, and ate fish, gooseberry jam, fresh potatoes, carrots and corn on the cob. The dessert was apple cake, which is not a cake, but apple sauce layered with butter-and-sugar toasted breadcrumbs topped with whipped cream and with small clots of redcurrant jam inside. It tastes much better than it sounds, and all of it got eaten.

***

As Susan, Linda and their parents were preparing to go to bed in Granny's tiny spare bedrooms, Susan asked Mom why they never slept at Auntie G's place. "She even has a real toilet, not this smelly outhouse."
"Auntie G often work night shift, so she do not like other people sleeping in her home. I also think she often brings home friends after work. She won't disturb us, or let us disturb her."
Next morning after breakfast, which they ate in the garden by the flagpole, Dad said it was time to go home.
"Oh," Granny said, "I had hoped you'd have stayed for a couple of days, we need to have the roof re-thatched, and Auntie G and her girls can't help all day. Myrtle has as you all know, started her own life, and only come visiting occasionally, The two younger cousins have both taken various jobs around here, and Auntie G has been called to work all week. It seems a lot of the staff at the hospital is either ill or on holiday."
"Roof thatching?" Mom said, "I don't know anything about it at all."  
"Actually it's quite easy," Auntie G said. "I can teach you before I have to be off for work. It's not difficult at all, just tiring, that's why we need many people to do it. You have to sit in the attic, there's not much room, but it's OK, The thatcher does all the hard stuff on the outside, he then puts a giant needle in through the reeds. Our job is to return the needle to the outside, in the right spot."
"Oh that's what all those giant rolls of reeds outside is for," Linda said. They smell so good."
Cousin Helen stood up and emptied the coffee pot at the base of the flagpole.
"Does it grow?" Susan asked.
"No, I don't think so," Helen answered. She carried a tray full of stuff inside Granny's kitchen and soon after they could see her head bobbing away over the hedge, biking off to work.
"I'm off too" the youngest of the cousins said. "I'm helping out at a lawyer's office for the summer holidays," she said to Mom and Dad,
"Well," Granny said. "The thatcher will be here shortly. I'll do the dishes, Susan could you please help me dry?"
Granny's kitchen was like herself, old, worn, practical and full of nice smells. Susan quickly and carefully dried all the thin plates and cups they had used for breakfast, then all the silverware, the pots and pans and finally the big bowl used for dough. Together Susan and Granny put away all the things. while granny cleaned out the sink, Susan shook the coffee grinder in the small bin for coffee grounds.
A knock on the door startled them and Granny hurried out. Susan stayed in the kitchen, straightening things, watering plants and listening.
It was one of the ladies from the nearby tiny fishing village, one of the men down there had had an accident. Granny grabbed her bag and left with the neighbour.

Soon after, the thatcher arrived. Auntie G took first Mom, then Dad, who was rather too big to fit into the attic, then Susan and finally Linda up and showed them how and where to return the big needle to the thatcher. As she had said, it was tiring, but not difficult. They took turns returning the needle all morning, Granny returned while Susan was up in the attic, and could follow her by looking through the rafters. Susan saw her put her bag back on the hook go into the kitchen, she heard the refrigerator door, and then Granny came out carrying a basket, which she took into the garden to harvest strawberries, salad, kale and peas for today's lunch. She called on Linda to pull some carrots, and Dad to fill the through by the pump.
The thatcher ate together with them, he was a local, and soon he, Granny and Mom were talking of people, they knew, their children, cousins, uncles and aunts. Susan and Linda slunk away when the strawberries were all eaten. Rye bread with sliced strawberries tasted good. And the freshly smoked eel, which Granny had brought back from the fisher's village was delicious.
They did not work for long after lunch, as the thatcher ran out of twine, but he promised to return with more the next day.
 Auntie G returned early, and she, Mom and Granny took Susan and Linda for a walk. They went through the white painted gate in the back of the garden, along the brook to the fishing village, passing many rickety piers and teepee-like constructions of long poles. In the village many of the inhabitants greeted Granny, Mom and Auntie G.
 They turned right into a cobbled street, passing the smokehouse with its characteristic chimney and turned right once again on the big road. They walked on, past Granny's house and the pottery, past the big memorial stone and all the way out to where the road became hemmed in by water on both sides.
 Out there Granny opened her basket. It contained coffee, mugs and pastry. It was a treat, and they all sat in the grass eating and talking.
Susan went exploring, and found a tiny graveyard almost hidden by the rushes. She went back and asked Granny why people were buried out there.
"It's the pest-cemetery," Granny explained. "Your great-great-grandmother, my maternal grandmother, is buried there as well. Long ago, when the village here was much smaller than today, and the roads worse and the water more often inundated the roads, my grandmother lived here. She was a wise woman, some might have called her a witch. She helped birthing ladies, set broken limbs, cleaned and bandaged wounds, and made herbal teas for minor illnesses. You must remember that a journey to town was long and hard for an ill person, and a visit from the doctor cost a lot of money, which the serfs and fishers here did not have. You can see the castle out there. The baron closed the gates and put out guards when the plague came here. He and his family all survived. My granny was not so lucky. She and all the other plague victims were buried here. But all this happened long ago."

***

For four days they were all busily at work thatching the roof.
  After work, Susan and Linda played with the two cousins and their friends. They walked Granny's dog, a collie, who was old and a bit mad. It was often trying to bite people, and once Lena, the youngest of the cousins, had bitten its tail in return. Susan loved the dog, and were almost always at good terms with it.
  Only once ... Susan was smaller then, it was winter and the streets had been frozen. She had been asked to walk Minor alone - once upon a time a cat named Major had lived with Granny too, but it was long gone. The walk had been fine, Minor had done what it was supposed to, and they were almost home when a cat ran past. Minor totally lost it and gave chase with Susan hanging on for dear life, sliding over the road and into a stone wall, until the leash broke. She went limping back to Granny, who said that it was a good thing that the leash had broken, "And if it ever happens again, just let go of him, he'll return when he gets hungry." She washed Susan's hands and legs, and sent her out to play again. But now Susan was older and heavier, she was not pulled over when Minor found something interesting, and funnily Minor never ever tried biting Susan.

  Tuesday in the late afternoon they played Find the matchbox. Susan was hot, and she was angry. She could never find the hidden matchbox. Everybody but her had seen the matchbox and sat down to tell they had found it. Susan was the last one. She was the youngest too, as Linda had made herself scarce when work was over.
  Lena hid the matchbox, and all the girls swarmed into Auntie G's living room. Susan decided that she would NOT be the last one to sit this time. But she could not find the box, no matter how much she looked. Two of the larger girls sat down, then Helen too. Susan slowly pivoted around, looking up and down, and then she too sat down. Cousin Lena called her out: "Susan, where is the matchbox?" O course Susan did not know. She had not found the box. But calling people out in this game was just not done. Susan felt ashamed of cheating, and yet she felt unfairly treated. She just sat.
  In the end Auntie G came and carried her into the kitchen. "Yes, Susan, all the girls are older than you. This just means you've got to be smarter." Susan stayed with Auntie G in the kitchen for a long time. Auntie G grabbed her guitar and started playing The Riddle Song. "Do you remember the words?" Auntie G asked.
  Susan began singing, and she remembered almost all the words of the song from the other night.
  "It is an old song." Auntie G said. "It was written more than 200 years ago, but I did nor learn it until a few weeks ago. I'll have to leave soon. Tonight is my night to go to the rehearsal and play music."
  Susan went down to Granny's house. No one was in the kitchen, darkness was falling, and Susan continued down the path, down towards the water. Today she was the one to have become wet, and her favorite dress hung on the clothes line just past the house. She felt very much alone. The happenings with the gargoyle and the werewolves could have been a dream.
  She went down the path, and the moon, gibbous now, rose over the trees down by the water. Susan felt something wet touch her hand and she sat down, dizzy with fear. Then she saw Minor, the faithful dog in the waning light. "Oh, boy, did you scare me!" Susan said, kneeling and caressing the dog. "Come, walk with me. I have to get my dress."  Together Minor and Susan walked the short distance to the clothes line, Susan's hand entwined in Minor's long hair. A bright rectangle of light fell from the window of the smelly outhouse next to the old barn, and Susan found it harder to see the ground. But the clothes line was close to the outhouse. It looked strangely foreign, misshapen in the evening light. And when Susan got closer, she saw four round eyes staring at her. Susan stared back. Eyes, here? Yellow green eyes opened and closed, and then with a penetrating hoo-hoo-hoooo! an owl alighted from the line, swooshed soundlessly over Susan's head, barely clearing the hen house, and flew off towards the river. The other owl still sat at the line.
  "Good evening, Owl!" Susan said. "Do not let me disturb you. I'd like to have my dress, but you can stay where you are, if you like. Your friend sat on my dress, you don't." The owl looked at Susan, and opened both eyes widely. Then it opened it's beak and hooted softly at her. The owl moved a bit further towards the end of the line, and Susan gathered her courage, patted Minor, and walked the two steps up to the line. Her legs felt heavy as lead, and her arms were heavy too. She slowly raised them, opened the pegs, and retrieved her dress. She bowed to the owl. "Good night and good hunting!" she said softly. The owl stretched its wings silently, folded them back together and hooted once more softly in reply. Minor slunk off to his favourite spot near the door, and Susan went into the house, from which she now heard laughter and people talking.

***

Susan ventured a look into the living room. Just about everybody was in there, Granddad, Mom, Dad, Linda, Auntie G's two youngest girls. Aunt Dina and Uncle Kurt were there as well. Susan wondered, what now had happened.
  Grandma called her into the kitchen: "Where have you been, Girl? We waited, and then we ate dinner. And later Dina and Kurt arrived. Now it's time for coffee."
  "I was at Auntie G's house, we made music, and then I went down to take in my dress from the line," was Susan's laconic naswer.
  Granny looke searchingly at her: "Now, in the dark? Did you meet anybody down there?"
  "Well if Minor and two hooting owls count as anybody, then yes. Did you know they lived down there?"
  "Yes, they have a nest, hole, whatever owls live in, down in the branches of the giant oaks by the water." Granny said with a small smile. "Didn't they scare you?"
  "Yes they did. I think, maybe if Minor had not been there, and I had not felt so lonely, I would have been scared witless. But  oh, we had played that stupid "find a matchbox-game. And all the others were bigger and better at it than me. In the end I just sat down even if I had not seen that darned box. And then that sneaky Lena, she asked me where the box was. She never asked any of the bigger girls. It was so unfair ... Then Auntie G took me into her kitchen, ad we made music until she'd got to go for rehersals at the theatre." Susan stopped, dried her eyes and blew her nose.
  "Yes and then?" Granny asked in a gentle voice.
  "Then I walked down here, but the kitchen was black and empty, I thought maybe I was late for dinner. I did not want to come in and have everyone looking at me. I felt lonely. Then I remembered the dress. Minor almost made me jump into the air by muzzling my hand, as I passed the outhouse, but he followed me to the clothesline, and it was almost dark, and the moon rose, and the bats came out. But Minor was there. Then I saw the clothesline, and it looked all wrong. One of the owls flew right over my head and down to the water. I was afraid, but I had Minor by my side, and he was not afraid. Then I spoke to the owl that stayed. It winked at me, I think, and then it moved further away, as if telling me I could go on and take my dress. I did it, but I think it is one of the hardest thing I've done for a long time."
  "Those owls are very big." Granny said nodding."They often sit at my clothesline when darkness falls. They are good at hunting mice and rats ... and keeping unwanted persons away. They once attacked and wounded a grown man who was here to steal something from Granddad's shed." Granny shook her head. "The owl talked to you,"  she said in a inquiring tone.
  "No, it was not talking exactly," Susan said. "But I ... I understood that it meant me no harm, and it was OK to take my dress."
  "We've got to talk later" Granny said. "Now eat your dinner. It's on the orange plate under the fly net. I've got to serve some coffee and cake for the languishing crowd."

***

Susan ate her dinner. As everything Granny cooked it was simple, delicious, and filling. When Granny came to refill the empty coffee pot, she handed Susan a tray of scones and jam. "Now, child, you carry this one into the living room for me. Auntie G is arriving, and everybody will be looking at her, telling her the news and not noticing you. Linda's more than half asleep on the couch, slip in next to her."
  Susan meekly did as she was told, She placed the laden tray on the table and sat on the couch next to Linda. Mom turned her head in her direction, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Auntie G came in, trailing a puff of crisp night air.
  "Oh, there you are, Gladys. Sit down, have a cup of coffee, and listen to the news," Mom said.
  Auntie G greeted her father and sat down.
  "You probably know about our buying and selling of land out in the old bog," Aunt Dina said. "Well if not," she said, as Auntie G shook her head no, "the story goes like this: We, that is me, Kurt, Elin and Benny, bought some land from an agency last week. It was a friend of ours who took care of the transactions. The idea was to buy these lots, and later, as they were sought after for the expansion of the town, sell them again and earn some money in the process. We already did this once, and earned some money; not much, but enough to get us hooked on the idea. That old bog is well situated, drained and prepared for building of houses. Roads have been planned, some paved and ready, some still gravel. Electricity is on its way, and water as well. It was a sure fire investment object. But something went wrong this time. It seemed likely that said friend was in cahoots with some criminals. At least that's what we thought. Because suddenly our money and papers and everything disappeared. We asked him about it, but he was not able to give any coherent explanation. We had a quarrel ... nothing but anger really came off it. And that's when Benny and Elin left.
  But this morning all the papers, and our money was handed back to us by the police. They had used him as a stooge to get to the criminals. We have apologized, he has done the same, and we're going to meet with him and the family tomorrow. I hope that you're coming along as well, Elin and Benny?" The last words were said, looking at Susan's parents, who looked at one another and then nodded.
  Susan was sitting on the couch. She tried hard to listen to the grownups going on about money and papers, but she sat in a warm, stuffy room smelling of rose geraniums, after a long day, and after having eaten Granny's delicious dinner. She did not really understand much, apart from the end result that seemed to be a return to Dina and Kurt's summerhouse, and closer to Unicorn Farm.
  But Grandma wanted to tell her something, the owls too ... Susan slept.

***

Susan awoke early next morning, She was cold, and had to go to the smelly outhouse. She pulled on her socks; and carrying her sandals she went quietly through the narrow corridor, into the living room, out into the entrance room and out trough the door. The door was not locked. It never was. Minor raised his head and looked at Susan. "Good boy, stay there!" She said quietly. At the outhouse door she stopped, the owls were no longer at the clothes line, a thin fog was lifting from the water, hiding the top of the trees.The sun was about to rise over the soft hills to the southeast, It felt as if the world was holding its breath.
  The Sun rose and shed a golden glow over the world, the treetops glowed and the birds all began singing at once. What a morning!
  Shivering from the cold Susan hurried into the outhouse, did what had to be done, and went inside the house again. She did not want to go back to the tiny guest room. The bed was uncomfortable and the room miffy. The straw mattress smelled good, but the donas were filled with lumps, mostly too heavy and either too cold or too hot. Most of the miffines came from the walls, really. Granny and Auntie G had decided that this part of the house should have its walls renewed next summer. They walls of the house were all made from timber frames, that originally were filled out with mud. The rest of the house had had the mud removed and bricks laid instead, and new windows too. But the two tiny guest rooms in the upper end were still mud walled.  Now the roof was renewed, the house would slowly dry out, and become less miffy. But this was still in the future. Susan sat down on the couch under the windows in the living room, she looked through the newspapers, nothing of interest there. She then turned around, kneeling on the couch and looked out between the rose geraniums into the garden. She was still cold. A spread, made of crocheted granny squares in bright colours covered most of the couch. she draped it around her shoulders, gradually she got warm, the birds began looking for worms in the lawns, the corn rustled as a fox passed through the tall stalks. She admired granny for growing corn. She had tried at home, with not much success, the stalks grew tall, but the ears never ripened before the frost took them.
  Granny came into the room, dressed and ready to begin the day. Susan turned around and said: "Good morning, Granny, why can't I grow corn like yours at home?"
  Granny startled, sat down upon a chair and said: "What a peculiar question. Firstly, you live up north; yes I know the distance is not that great, but there's a something, a border, a line, call it what you like. Down here we're south of that line, and where you live it's north of that line. And then it's the seeds, the planting and oh, so many other things. But this was not what I wanted to talk with you about. You've got the gift, I think."
  "Which gift?" Susan asked with surprise in her every fibre. "My birthday was a bit more than two weeks ago."
  Granny laughed softly. "The day before yesterday I told you about your great-great-grandmother, and you listened in the kitchen, as the woman from the fishing village came for me, I think you added one and one and got two."
  Susan nodded, not quite sure that she was right.
  "Yes," Granny continued, "I am, like my grandmother, a wise woman. There's not that much use for us any longer, I help the stubborn men in the fishing village, I sit by old dying people, I help out when there's strife and trouble. I also help plants to grow, sometimes. And I think you too, my little girl, has this gift. I see it in you, but it's somehow different ... changed?" Granny ended on a questioning note.
  "Yes," Susan said, "I'm like you and great-great-grandmother, and yet I'm not." I'm not good with people. I'm better with animals, and small children, those that do not say one thing and think another. I also love trees and I would like to learn more of your plant lore. But during these summer holidays my place is at The Farm."
  "I heard those capital letters," Granny said smiling. "I did not know a school was started up, I suppose the Icelandic Wise ones are behind this. They were always closer to the magic, or what you might call it." Susan nodded and opened her mouth.
  Granny put her finger to her lip: "Shush, Susan! Do not tell me any more. I smell troubled times ahead and I cannot betray what I do not know."
  Granny held Susan's chin and looked into her eyes. Now you listen, and afterwards forget most of this: "Your Mom does not have much of the Gift, only the empathy that goes with it, and that's a hard thing to be able to feel others pain and not being able to help. Auntie G has it too, but her broken heart has clouded her mind. She could do great things, but I suspect she never will. My only son has closed that door in his mind. It's not a thing for modern times and rational beings. And he's very rational and prosperous, at least in his own mind. Your aunt Dina is nice, but not Gifted. You, and probably the middle of Auntie G's girls have to carry the torch."

***

Susan felt very anticlimactic as she crossed the line of trees separating Unicorn Farm from the rest of the island. She had lived through so much the last two weeks, she felt like she should have grown at least a handspan. But still it was nice to be back. Her striped skirt hung at its place on the hooks, and the same did the green tunic. She quickly shed her light summer dress and pulled on her apprentice wear. She then ran down the length of the barn to join the green team on their way out into the sunlight. Today was biology day.

TOP