S2E9 Beyond The North Wind Chapter 9

Anna leaves on her search to find Emil or what happened to him.  She milks her goats at the summer farm and asks Siegfried to take care of them.

Transcript

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Beyond the North Wind Chapter nine It was a good time to leave, Anna told herself, as she dressed and packed her rucksack. When she had her boots on, and her skis and walking stick were ready, she stood outside the farm on the hillside track and looked over the fjord. The sparkling blue water stretched out to the horizon and the larger body of the Cunangan Fjord. Above the fjord, the summits of ice topped Yokelfjord were visible through whispers of cloud. She stood ready in her brown merino wool jumper and black leggings. Even if she really had no chance of finding out what had happened to Emile, at least the goats were pleased to see her. They skipped about as soon as she opened their pens. She kept hold of Sulja, the eldest, and tied her to a post in the shed, while she filled up the plastic feeder with grain from the feed bin, scooping up enough dry brown pellets until it was three quarters full. The feeder was attached, and a clean milk pail found. The other goats, Sniff, Snork, Snuffkin and Tovey, were now out in the orchard, under the plum tree. She caught hold of Silja's collar and led her to the milking stand. Sylja knew the routine. She poked her head through the hole in the milking stand where she could eat out of the feeder. Anna wiped down the goat's udders with a wet cloth, soaked in a clean bucket of boiled water, removing little scraps of straw and manure. The goat stood still, and continued eating as Anna gripped the two teats and sent the first stream of milk onto the floor. Then the milk let down in earnest and sprang into the pail with a metallic ring. When she was finished and the goat's udders were flaccid, she picked up the pail and put it safely out of the way. Good girl, she said, as she let Sylja out of the milking stand and led her back to the orchard, with a scratch under her chin. When she had milked the other goats and finished with three full pails she called Siegfried on her mobile. He sounded surprised when he answered Yes, Anna? Hi, I'd like a favour, please. Anything for you? Siegfried had always been kind. She had always admired his rustic ways, how he whittled wood, how he talked the animals, how he treated his wife like Queen Sonya, with boat rides on the fjord and drinks and dinners. I'm going away for a while. I need someone to take care of Sildren and her flock. Can you do that? Of course. When are you going? Siegfried sounded serious, almost worried. Very soon I've done the morning milking. There are three buckets in the cool shed. You're going now? He stopped short of saying anything to stop her going. Of course we will look after the place for you. You can make Brunost with the milk or whatever you like. She ended the call and went back inside the farmhouse for the last time. The sky had brightened little since her early start. It was the wrong time of year to search for anyone with winter coming, but action was the key, she concluded to her predicament, wherever her adventure might lead her. She laced up her walking boots, took up her rucksack, walking stick and skis, and headed out. Siegfried would not arrive for a few minutes. She looked around the farm, saw how it was a dream showing its age. The wooden boards that made up the walls were stained with moss. The old corrugated iron roof was warped and bent, and in the winter conducted away any heat out of the building. She should sell the place to Fritchov and be done with it. Burgess and her girls would welcome her in. They all got on well together. But that possibility was for the future. Whatever the outcome, as her cut foot reminded her in its insulated boot, she had to move forward and not go back. She said goodbye to the summer farm, to the candle she had placed in the window and lit every year on the anniversary of Emil's disappearance, and strode upwards. She had not gone far up the hill when there was a voice in the distance, and she stepped behind a tree to hide. There was the crunch of boots on the track. It was probably Siegfried coming up to take care of the goats at once. But when she looked down and peeped out from behind the tree, she saw Fritchov walking up the slope in his slow way, hands on his bad knees. For a man of sixty he was very fit, loved his walking, and was dressed in a red check shirt with an old brown jumper tied around his waist. He had on his dark grey working trousers and farm boots. She saw that he carried an envelope in which she knew there would be a formal invite to dinner. She groaned, not that she disliked him or his family. Alva was a good woman and a great cook, a skill she envied, but today she wanted to go, to disappear away from it all. Anna, called Fritchov, the long vows of her name, hunting for her in the house, the shed, the outbuildings. She stood still like a little girl, guilty of what she had done with Gunnar, and cross because Fritchov would not understand. Silently she picked up her rucksack, spread the rain cover over it, adjusted how she carried her skis and resumed her climb up the hill away from the summer farm, melting into the bushes and away from her zealous neighbour. When she was a long way up, she poked her head through the branches of a tree and looked out. Fritchov was knocking on the door. When he found it unlocked he went in. A couple of minutes later he came out, and stood in that way of his looking puzzled. He was such a good man, she felt awful about running and hiding away. More than ever she knew how the children felt when she had to tell them off or even scold them. She could see that Fritchov did not hold the envelope anymore. It would be left on the kitchen table, propped up against the empty flower vase. He would have looked around the clean kitchen and have begun to wonder. She had left a little subterfuge, the card of the therapist by the phone on the kitchen table, and a street map of Trumps open.

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Dr.

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Goodjohnson Bereavement Counsellor Fritzov had once implored her to attend. So she left him thinking she had taken his advice and gone to see the shrink. Perhaps he would believe her clues, perhaps he would be taken in. The little falling out yesterday would be forgotten, and in return an invitation to dinner would smooth things over, and afterwards maybe a trip out across the fjord, with Siegfried in his boat. Fritchov looked all around, nodding his head, as if he understood, and then she saw him walk down the hill, with knees bent and crooked legs turned in, the way the Sami walked downhill to soften the strain.