This Should Be Written in the Present Tense

20

Lars came over a few times a week after his shifts at the nursery. He wore a green anorak and combat trousers, his gardening outfit he called it. His job was transplanting seedlings and potting, thinning out the greenhouses and serving customers. He liked serving customers the best, it made the time go faster. But he enjoyed being outside in the fresh air as well, surrounded by fields with a little seedling between his fingers, and getting paid for it.

We sat on the front step with bottles of beer in our hands. Per had lit a cigarette, he didn’t smoke that much any more. Lars coughed and wafted the smoke away. He put his hand on my arm fleetingly when he stopped. I had a woolly jumper on, Ruth had given it me. She’d knitted it for herself years ago, only now it was too tight over her bum. It was blue and white, an Icelandic pattern, and really comfy. Lars got up and stood in front of us with his beer in one hand.

‘Who wants to chuck a ball about?’

‘Are you sure you’re up to it?’ said Per.

‘You’ll have to carry me off if I’m not,’ said Lars and laughed. He reached his hand out to Per, Per dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his trainer, then he took hold and Lars pulled him up. His bottle wobbled on the step, I only just managed to catch it.

The game was up against the wall in what we called the barn. I went with them, over to the sunlounger with the rest of the garden furniture at the far end. It was covered in straw. I brushed it away and sat down. They began whipping the little ball back and forth between the wall and the floor with their bare hands, whacking it hard with their open palms, leaping and lunging. I felt a bit out of place on the lounger, half lying down with my arm over my forehead to protect against any stray balls. They were soon warmed up and sweating. They stopped for a break and pulled off their jumpers, and dumped them at my feet. Per bent down and gave me a quick kiss. He tasted of cigarette.

I began to feel cold. After they’d got started again and played for a while I got up and crossed the yard. My wellies were worn thin, I could feel the cobbles under my feet. The lawn in front of the house was spongy and full of moss. Someone had draped a tennis sock over the boxwood by the patio, I went over and picked it up. I could see Hans-Jakob on the sofa, lying down reading the paper, he was home early that day. He saw me and smiled. I carried on round the back and through the bushes. At the edge of the garden a pheasant flew up with a cry, it scraped the top of a bare elderberry bush pathetically. I went for a little walk on the bumpy field. When I came back to the garden Lars was standing by the bushes smiling at me with his anorak over his arm.

‘Been for a hike?’

‘Yes, I was a bit cold. I’m warmer now, though.’

‘So now you’re taking your clothes off?’ he said, and nodded at the tennis sock. I held it up and we looked at it.

‘That’s right,’ I said, and then we laughed.

‘That jumper suits you,’ he said. ‘Did Ruth knit it?’

‘Yes, it was hers.’

‘Lovely people.’

‘I know. I like it here a lot.’

‘I don’t blame you.’

He put his arm under mine all of a sudden and then we crossed through the garden and out onto the cobbles, Per came towards us in his T-shirt.

‘Look, I found a sock,’ I said, and waved it about a bit too jauntily.

‘Here’s your sweetheart,’ said Lars to Per, letting go of my arm and giving me a nudge towards him.

‘So I see,’ said Per.