Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 28 - Ice and Fire

Belinda looked over to it and suddenly realized how dark it had grown. She would have to hurry home. Did she dare to, in this darkness?

And then there was the fact that she didn’t want to. Not yet. She wanted to prolong this – to her – unfamiliar experience of human company as long as possible.

“Do you feel like telling me about your difficulties?” she asked in a childish, trusting tone of voice.

He started. “You? Why should I, when I can’t even confide in my own, understanding parents and grandparents?”

Belinda lowered her head in humility and shame. “No, of course. Forgive me!”

The tall stranger, who most resembled a tragic knight of the Middle Ages, grew embarrassed.

“No, I am the one who should ask for forgiveness. Who else should I confide in if not you, you lonely little creature who so desperately desires a friend?”

He leaned towards her and took her hand. His hand was large and surprisingly warm, and Belinda wasn’t afraid in the least. Perhaps she could be a moral support to him in whatever trial it was he was facing.

“You see, Belinda, I can’t tell them how I feel at home because it will only hurt them if I do. I know this is going to sound strange and frightening to you, but ... the truth is that Graastensholm is haunted and my grandmother and grandfather know nothing about it.”

Her hand twitched a little. Other than that, nothing about her revealed her fear or her wish not to listen to the rest. Ghosts! Help!

“Is it really?”

“Yes, unfortunately. But I don’t mean to scare you unnecessarily. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

She was speechless, yet very much aware that her hand was still resting in his. She anxiously tried to look over at Graastensholm, but it was too dark now.

“But what is haunting it?”

He seemed ill at ease. “It’s a woman,” he said reluctantly. “A young woman. She’s always standing behind the door to my room and looking at me. She is bluish and pale and looks ill. As though she drowned.”

Belinda crept a little closer as though to comfort him. Without thinking she began to use the informal “you” when addressing him. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

“When I was a child I would get very scared and refuse to go to Graastensholm. I would never sleep over there. And I couldn’t tell anyone. Least of all Grandmother and Grandfather.”

“No, of course not. That couldn’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t. They claimed that I was sulky and introverted and I couldn’t defend myself. I thought of nothing but ghosts twenty-four hours a day. It practically made me ill.”

Belinda squeezed his hand sympathetically. “What about now? Now that you’re grown-up? Now that you live there. Is that woman still there?”

“Yes! I fought a huge battle with myself because I decided I wanted to move up there. Grandfather needs help, and one day I will have to take over the farm. But I’m not afraid any more. She doesn’t do anything, she just stands there with her big, round eyes.”

Belinda shuddered. “No wonder you’ve become a bit odd,” she said, more honest than polite. “I would too if it were me.”

He smiled bitterly. “Well, now that I’m older I’ve had some other strange ideas. That have nothing to do with ghosts. But I still can’t tell my family about them. It would hurt them terribly, and anyway, I’m not allowed to tell anyone.”

“Who won’t allow it?”

“Other ... people. But it’s grown dark now, and cold. You had better get home!”

She got up reluctantly. She realized that it had actually grown cold.

“People say you are always out riding so much. Is that because you don’t want to be where the ghosts are?”

“It used to be. Back then I would ride as though the devil were at my heels. Now I ride for other reasons.”

“Oh,” she said quietly.

“No, it’s not to meet girls. It’s to meet other people. The ones I was just talking about.”

That was good to hear.

They walked out of the cemetery to where his horse was standing. He remained standing next to it. “You know,” he said, “I haven’t spoken so much for ages!”

She laughed joyfully. “And I’ve never felt so ... intelligent!”

“That’s because you were yourself for a moment. That’s the best way to be. I will see you home, you shouldn’t be out alone at this time of day.”

He led his horse as he chatted with her about her childhood and her hard life at Elistrand.

Belinda sighed. “I’m worried about tomorrow night. Mrs Tilda will be going out then, which means Mr Abrahamsen is bound to be difficult. He’ll come up to the nursery and ... ugh, no!”

Viljar of the Ice People stopped. She couldn’t see his face but she could hear his voice.

“That mustn’t happen,” he said sharply. “I won’t be at home tomorrow but I’ll have a word with my grandmother, Vinga. I’ll ask her to send you an invitation to come up to Graastensholm.”

“But I can’t leave Lovise, that won’t do.”

“You can take the child with you! And I’ll ask my grandmother to make sure you don’t leave until Mrs Tilda has returned.”

“But ... what about the ghosts?”

“Do you intend to go up to my room?”

“No, of course not, how stupid of me. Oh, if only I could get away from here. I’m so scared!”

“Believe me, it will all work out, for tomorrow anyway. Here we are at the gate of Elistrand. I think you can manage from here. Good night, my friend. You can always turn to me should you find yourself in a difficult situation.”

She managed to stammer a “Goodnight” and then he was gone. He had called her his “friend”.

Not until then did she recall that he was the one who had caused Signe’s death. But now that she thought about it she couldn’t fathom how the sight of him on the hillside, which had so frightened her and Signe, could have been interpreted as a bad omen.

Not him! Not the only person in the world who perceived her as his equal.

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