Gerbrand Bakker - Ten White Geese

‘Yes,’ said the policeman.

‘There is a chance, of course, that’s she no longer there.’

‘We’ll see when we get there.’

‘“Boxing Day”, what’s that actually mean?’

‘I don’t know.’

In eight hundred metres, bear right. Then take the motorway . The husband was starting to get fed up with Bram. He couldn’t be bothered trying to talk over him. He closed his eyes and thought about running. With a foot that wasn’t broken, that rolled. Running, breathing, sweating, clenching his fists to squeeze the pain out of his spleen. Coming home alone, showering, stretching out on the sofa. She never said anything. In all those years she hadn’t once asked how it had gone. Sometimes she sighed. She’d never put in an appearance at a race either. Impervious. He thought of something his mother-in-law had said. It’s still all your fault. Because he, as the policeman said, was hardly an open book himself? His foot wasn’t itchy; he didn’t miss the knitting needle. That was probably a sign that things were going well under the plaster.

*

Northop, Brynford, Rhuallt . Bram hadn’t said a word for ages, presumably because they were on the A55 and would be staying on it for a while. The sun was now shining; the fields and woods were steaming. It’s beautiful here, the husband thought. His phone started to vibrate against his chest. He pulled it out of the breast pocket of his coat.

‘You there yet?’ His mother-in-law.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘The boat was delayed. We had to spend a night in a hotel.’

‘But now you’re almost there?’

‘About another hour and a half, I think.’

‘What’s the weather like?’

‘Nice. The sun’s shining.’

‘It’s terrible here. Not cosy at all.’

The husband glanced to one side. The policeman was looking ahead imperturbably. ‘Well, it’s very cosy here. I drank champagne this morning.’

‘What? Why for God’s sake?’

‘It’s Boxing Day.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I don’t know. The second day of Christmas?’

‘Does that policeman of yours know how to get there?’

‘He’s got help. From Bram.’

‘Bram?’

‘One of those navigation systems.’

‘Oh.’ There was a moment’s silence. ‘Is he wearing his uniform?’

‘No, why should he? He’s not working.’

‘No, I thought, because he’s kind of going there to pick her up in an official capacity.’

‘This has nothing to do with the police.’

‘That’s true.’ There was another silence in Amsterdam. ‘Your father-in-law wants to know if they showed a film on the boat.’

‘Not that I know of. But it was a very big boat. We saw a clown on a stage.’

‘Look, when you’re there, will you tell her that we…’

‘Yes?’

They consulted again. ‘Well, that we love her. And that we want her to come home. Not to us, of course, but to you.’

‘To me? I thought it was all my fault.’

‘No. According to your father-in-law, that’s not right. We talked about it some more.’

‘Oh.’

‘We love her, her father too. Tell her that. Will you do that?’

‘Of course I’ll tell her. When we get there, I’ll give her my phone, then you can tell her yourself.’

‘No, you do it. And then we’ll call afterwards. Or no, you call us, because we won’t know when you get there. What time is it there anyway?’

‘An hour earlier than with you.’

‘OK, we don’t want to be in the middle of dinner.’

The man shook his head.

‘You can also tell her that it’s not on, just disappearing like that. That she should think of her old mum and dad. And that we’ve forgiven her.’

‘What have you forgiven her?’

‘You know, that thing with the, um…Everybody does things they end up regretting.’ His father-in-law said something in the background. ‘Your father-in-law says, “The flesh is weak.”’ She started to cry.

The husband moved the phone away from his ear. ‘I’ve got my mother-in-law on the line,’ he told the policeman. ‘She says the flesh is weak.’

The policeman glanced at him. ‘Can’t argue with that,’ he said.

‘Something else.’ Now he heard his father-in-law’s voice. He pressed the phone against his ear again. ‘Tell her that we really want to celebrate New Year together, all of us.’

‘I’ll do that. Are you going to come here or do you mean in Amsterdam?’

‘Here, of course! What would we want to go there for? Do you really see me getting your mother-in-law on one of those boats?’

‘You could fly.’

‘Not if you paid us. No, here. At our place. In her old home. It’ll be good for her. We have to look after her.’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ve got a return, haven’t you? When are you taking the boat back?’

‘No, no return. We can come back whenever we like. Plus we’ll have two cars then.’

‘You know what? Tell her her uncle and auntie are coming too.’ His mother-in-law said something. ‘What? Hang on a sec…No, of course he won’t mind. He’s worried about her…Why?…I guarantee he won’t play up…Sorry, your mother-in-law said something. I’ll arrange it right away. I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.’

‘I’ll let her know.’

More consultations in the background. ‘What? Hang on a sec. Your mother-in-law wants to know if the marble cake’s OK.’

‘It’s still in the bag. That’s for later.’

‘Will you ring up the minute you get there?’

‘I promise.’

‘OK. Drive safely for the rest of the trip.’

The man put his mobile back in his breast pocket. His ear was hot. ‘Shouldn’t you call home?’ he asked the policeman. ‘Just to touch base?’

‘No need.’

*

The A55 was now following the coast. Colwyn Bay, Llandudno, Conwy . A train that appeared to run along the beach overtook them.

‘Just under an hour,’ the policeman said.

‘I think it’s beautiful here,’ the husband said. ‘And I wonder what she’s been doing all this time.’

‘Maybe she’s living with a Welsh farmer.’

The husband laughed. They drove through a village where the train was stopped at a station. Land was visible in the distance. The husband wondered if it could be Ireland. A little later the train passed the car again. ‘She’s a city girl. She can’t tell a blackbird from a sparrow.’

‘Is that a requirement? You don’t need to know stuff like that to live in the country.’

‘It’s so lonely.’

‘And living with you in one house in the city wasn’t?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

The policeman took one hand off the wheel and laid it on the husband’s leg.

He didn’t move it away because the policeman was the driver.

*

Turn left ahead. In eight hundred metres, turn left and follow the road. After a long silence Bram had spoken again. Caernarfon , the signs said, nine more miles. At the roundabout, turn right, third exit. ‘Bram’s got his work cut out for him now,’ the policeman said.

‘Can he find a house just by the name?’ the husband asked. He rubbed his left knee.

‘No.’

‘So how are we going to get there?’

The policeman took a map from the pocket in his door and gave it to the husband, saying, ‘What would you do without me?’

The husband looked at the map. Snowdon / Yr Wyddfa, Explorer Map. A mountaineer in a bright red coat standing on a rock with a snow-covered mountaintop in the background.

‘I drew a circle around the house,’ the policeman said. ‘And used yellow highlighter on the road to get there.’

The husband tried to unfold the map but couldn’t, it was much too big. Too big and too detailed and it also made an incredible racket. He laid the map on his lap. The land across the water on their right was a lot closer; it couldn’t possibly be Ireland. Take the exit. Keep left, then cross the roundabout, second exit. They drove through the town of Caernarfon. The shops were open and the streets were fairly busy; the husband saw a large sign reading Sale! He saw what he thought was a kind of palm tree in the middle of a small roundabout. Cross the roundabout, second exit. The husband kept quiet, he couldn’t compete with Bram. Was Boxing Day a public holiday when shops held sales?