The Rabbit Hunter

38

Valeria sets off towards the greenhouse again, taking the barrow with her. They keep loading the walnut trees onto the trailer in silence. The past is drifting around them, dragging up old memories.

When Joona was eleven years old his father, Yrjö, a policeman, was shot and killed while on duty during a domestic dispute in an flat in Upplands Väsby. His mum, Ritva, was a housewife, and had no income of her own. The money ran out and she and Joona had to move out of their house in Märsta.

Joona soon learned to say he didn’t want to go to the cinema with his friends, and he learned to say he wasn’t hungry whenever they went to a café.

He lifts the last tree onto the trailer, tucks one of the branches in, then closes the trailer door carefully.

‘You were talking about your mum,’ Valeria says.

‘She knew that I felt ashamed of our circumstances,’ Joona says, brushing his hands. ‘That must have been hard for her, because we really weren’t that badly off. She worked as much as she could as a cleaner, and we borrowed books from the library. We would read together and talk about what we’d read in the evenings.’

After putting the trailer away in the shed they walk up to her little house. Valeria opens a door that leads directly into the utility room.

‘You can wash your hands here,’ she says, turning on the tap of a large metal sink.

Standing beside her, he rinses his filthy hands in the warm water. She lathers a bar of soap and starts to wash his hands.

The only sound is the water running into the sloping sink.

The smile fades from her face as they wash each other’s hands.

They keep their hands in the warm water, suddenly conscious of their touch. She gently squeezes two of his fingers in one of her hands, and looks up at him.

He’s much taller than she is, and even though he leans down to kiss her she has to stand on tiptoe.

They haven’t kissed since they were in high school, and afterwards they glance at each other almost shyly. She takes a clean towel from the shelf and dries his hands and arms.

‘So, here you are, Joona Linna,’ she says tenderly, and strokes his cheek, tracing his cheekbone up towards his ear and messy blond hair.

She pulls off her shirt and washes under her arms without taking off her discoloured bra. Her skin is the same colour as olive oil in a porcelain bowl. She has tattoos on both shoulders, and her upper arms are muscular.

‘Stop looking,’ she smiles.

‘It’s hard not to,’ he says, but turns away.

Valeria changes into a yellow vest top and black tracksuit bottoms with white stripes.

‘Shall we go upstairs?’

Her house is small, and furnished simply. The ceilings, walls and floors are all painted white. Joona hits his head on the lamp when he enters the kitchen.

‘Watch your head,’ Valeria says, and puts the flowers he brought her in a glass of water.

There are no chairs around the kitchen table, and the counter is covered with three trays of bread rising under tea-towels.

Valeria puts some more wood in the old stove, blows on the embers, then gets out a pan.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asks, taking bread and cheese out of the pantry.

‘I’m always hungry,’ Joona replies.

‘Good.’

‘Are there any chairs?’

‘Only one... so you’ll have to sit on my lap. No, I usually move the chairs out when I’m baking so I have more space,’ she says, gesturing towards the living room.

He walks into the next room, which contains a television, sofa and an old hand-painted dresser. Six kitchen chairs are lined up along the wall, so he picks up two of them and carries them back to the kitchen. He hits his head on the lamp again, stops it swinging with one hand, then sits down.

The lamp keeps swaying for a while, its light sliding over the walls.

‘Valeria... I’m not really here on leave,’ Joona says.

‘Did you escape?’ she asks with a smile.

‘Not this time,’ he replies.

She lowers her bright, brown eyes, and her face turns almost grey, as if she were trapped behind a wall of ice.

‘I knew it would happen. I knew you’d go back to being a police officer,’ she says, swallowing hard.

‘I’m not a police officer, but I’ve been forced to do one last job. There was no other option.’

She leans gently against the wall. She’s still not looking at him. The veins in her neck are throbbing hard, and her lips are pale.

‘Were you ever in prison for real?’

‘I accepted the job the day before yesterday,’ he replies.

‘I see.’

‘I’m done with the police.’

‘No,’ she smiles. ‘Well, you may believe that, but I could always tell you wanted to get back in.’

‘That’s not true,’ he says, even though he realises that it is.

‘I’ve never been as in love with anyone as I was with you,’ she says slowly, switching the stove off. ‘I know I’ve failed at most things in my life, and I know being a gardener isn’t much to brag about... But when I found out that you were in Kumla... I don’t know, I felt like I didn’t have to feel ashamed in front of you any more, that you’d understand. But now... You don’t want to work here. Why on earth would you? You’ll always be a police officer. That’s just who you are, and I know that.’

‘I’d be happy here,’ Joona says.

‘It wouldn’t work,’ she replies, her voice catching.

‘It would.’

‘Don’t worry, Joona, it’s fine,’ she says.

‘I’m a police officer. It’s part of who I am. My dad died when he was on duty... He wouldn’t have wanted to see me in uniform, but he’d rather that than prison clothes.’

She looks down and folds her arms over her chest.

‘I’m probably overreacting, but I’d like you to leave,’ she says quietly.

Joona nods slowly, runs his hand along the table, then stands up.

‘OK, how about this,’ he says, trying to catch her eye. ‘I’ll book a room in a little hotel in Vasastan, the Hotel Hansson. I have to be back at Kumla again tomorrow, but I hope you’ll visit me before I go, regardless of whether or not I’m a police officer.’

When he leaves the kitchen she looks away quickly so he won’t see that she’s on the verge of bursting into tears. She hears his heavy footsteps in the hall, then hears the door open and close.

Valeria goes over to the window and watches him get in his car and drive away. When he’s gone she sinks to the floor with her back against the radiator and lets the tears come, all the tears that have been dammed up inside her since high school, when a chasm opened up between them.