Helle Helle - This Should Be Written in the Present Tense

‘Any idea what the time is?’ he said, and I shook my head. I looked up at the cuckoo clock, but it was only for show. ‘It’s quarter to eight,’ he shouted from the bedroom, we had to get going. I turned off the oven and took the leg out. I put it on the hob, it was spitting fat. We pulled our coats on, his keys jangled as we went down the stairs. When we got outside he took my hand and we ran left, zigzagging between some people with suitcases before crossing the road. Then he stopped. He didn’t know which bus we had to get, he was always on his bike and didn’t know the routes. The air was cold and damp, I thought it might rain.

‘We’ll get a taxi,’ he said, and stopped one almost straight away, all he did was hold up his hand. We were out of breath when we got into the back, we began to laugh again. I could smell the turkey on our coats. I told him, and he sniffed his shoulder.

Apart from us there were only five others there, including the man in the leather hat and the two organisers. They stood on the stage with Cokes in their hands, they looked just like each other, both of them short-haired and wearing jumpers. Hase went to get us some wine. The leather-hat man and a girl at the table nearest the stage sat hunched over their papers. A young couple in black coats came in at the last minute, each with a carrier bag. They sat down quickly. Then the lights were dimmed and a spot lit up the stage. Hase came back with two glasses of wine just as one of the organisers stepped up to the microphone and welcomed the evening’s readers and the audience. The girl at the front table was going to read first, she had ordinary jeans on. She adjusted the mic. Hase whispered that her poems had recently been accepted by a publisher. She had finely shaped eyebrows and said she was going to read a poem dedicated to a friend from Sweden. She stood and breathed for a bit, then she began. Her voice was deep and calm. My eyes filled with tears nearly straight away. At first I blinked madly, then I just let them go. She read three poems in all and used the word substance more than twice. I sat completely still in the dim light. When she was finished, she smiled and nodded and went quickly back to her seat and we all applauded loudly. I sniffed as we clapped. Hase leaned forward and looked at me. I took a sip of wine and when I put the glass down he stroked my arm.

Later, after the readings, we went somewhere else, to a cafe with big windows facing the street. We bought peanuts and a whole bottle of red wine. I could see myself behind his back in the mirror on the wall. My face was streaked, but it didn’t matter. We talked about living in Copenhagen and about writing seriously, he said next time I should read something for him. I said I might be able to remember something off by heart. As we walked along Vesterbrogade much later it started to rain. We stood under an awning outside a jeweller’s and then I recited some of what I remembered. Afterwards he put his arm under mine and led me across the street, my legs were a bit wobbly. We went back to his and opened another bottle of wine, we had the turkey leg with bread and butter. I fell asleep on his sofa with the blanket over me and didn’t wake up until mid-morning. There was a note on the coffee table, he’d gone to the dentist’s and I should make myself at home. Before I left, I wrote on the back of it: See you, lots of love .

Much to my surprise, the front garden had come alive with white and yellow crocuses peeping up from the tiny lawn and under all the bushes. The sun was out and I swept the path. The ten o’clock had just gone, a lone passenger had got off and trudged past with her bag. She nodded towards the lawn.

‘What a lot of life.’

‘Yes, isn’t there?’ I said, and smiled at her. Then I saw Knud on the step of the station building waving me over. I left the brush and ambled across. He folded his arms in front of his chest.

‘Fancy a coffee?’

‘Yes, why not.’

‘Come on, then,’ he said, and I followed him through the back door into the little office behind the counter. He pulled me to one side and began to kiss me on the throat and then my neck.

‘Do you want something to go with that coffee?’ he said in a breathy voice, and I did. I looked out of the window at the platform, there wasn’t a soul.

‘The next one’s not due for fifty minutes,’ he said, his trousers already down.

‘That can’t be right. There’s one any minute.’

‘That’s a through train.’

‘Since when?’

‘Since today.’

‘Is there a new timetable?’

‘No, it’s just for this week.’

‘How come?’

‘I don’t know. Nobody tells us anything.’

‘But what are people supposed to do?’

‘What people?’

‘Passengers.’

‘There aren’t any. There never are for the ten-twelve.’

‘Never?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Suppose I wanted to get on?’

‘You never go that way.’

‘No, but what if I did?’

‘Well, you couldn’t,’ he said, and then the train came. He was right, it was a through train, it whistled past with its long trail of carriages. A white carrier bag flew up from the platform and settled again a bit further away.

We had the coffee afterwards. I sat on the edge of the little desk and looked across at my bungalow. The windows were all open, I’d wanted to get some air in all of a sudden and freshen the place up, it was the same reason I’d been sweeping the path. There were some clothes soaking in the bath, tops and socks that would dry on the line in the back garden. He sat on the swivel chair and put his hand on my knee.

‘You’re up early today,’ he said.

‘No earlier than usual.’

‘You sleep later, normally.’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘You’ll be having yourself a nice long snooze now,’ he said. I slapped his hand, the one he had on my knee, and he slapped back. He gulped some coffee, then he wiped his mouth.

‘I’ve applied to become a guard,’ he said suddenly. ‘You haven’t? What sort of a guard?’

‘On the trains, of course.’

‘Starting when?’

‘I don’t know yet. I’ve applied, that’s all.’

‘It sounds like a good opportunity.’

‘Yeah, I think it is.’

‘You won’t be able to keep an eye on me all day from the office, though. You’ll have to make do with looking over from the flat,’ I said.

‘We’d have to move as well,’ he said.

‘Move? Where to?’

‘Looks like Høje Taastrup, at the moment. Hanne’s from there originally.’

‘I see,’ I said.

‘Are you upset?’ he said.

‘Not really. I’ve got nothing against Høje Taastrup.’

‘You needn’t be. It won’t be until summer. Perhaps we can write to each other.’

‘Ha, ha.’

‘What’s funny about that?’ he said with wounded emphasis, it made me feel sorry for him, his firm, triangular body on the swivel chair with his polo shirt untucked. He ran his fingers once through his hair. I smiled at him.

‘Nothing. Of course we can.’

When I got back to the bungalow the door had blown shut. I stood on the step and rattled the handle, my key was inside. It must have been the draught, all the open windows. I fetched a rusty garden chair and placed it under the bedroom window. I opened the window all the way and wriggled my way over the ledge and straight into bed. I decided to stay there. I wasn’t really upset, it was just the abrupt change of situation, from standing with him inside me to sitting apart and being informed about Høje Taastrup in the space of a few minutes. As he’d predicted, I slept well into the afternoon, then when I woke up I went out and picked a handful of crocuses. I went over to the station with them, he was cashing up, his girlfriend was standing next to him in her baggy jumper. They both looked up at me in surprise, I handed her the flowers.