Adventures with Waffles (2 page)

“Can’t we do something else?” I said.

Mom didn’t have a chance to say another word before Lena made a dramatic suggestion: she and I could make the decoration to put on top of the bonfire. A big, fat sun-shaped one for Midsummer. I was stunned. But then I felt happy. Minda and Magnus made the bonfire every year. It was only fair to let Lena and me have a try at making something of our own. Lena begged and pleaded, and then shook Mom’s hand while jumping around.

“Let good old Trille and the girl from next door make their decoration. Another bride and groom will turn up,” said Grandpa.

And that’s how Lena and I got our first decoration-making assignment. It will most likely be our last too.

W
e live in a small bay called Mathildewick Cove, Lena and I. Grandpa says Mathildewick Cove is a kingdom. Grandpa mostly makes things up, but I like to think that he’s right about this one: Mathildewick Cove is our kingdom. Between our houses and the sea we have some big fields, and there’s a gravel track that goes above those fields down to the shore. By the track grow rowan trees, which we climb when the wind blows. Every morning when I get up, I look out my window at the sea and at the weather. When the wind is really blowing, the waves come crashing over the jetty and the spray goes far up onto the fields. When it’s not windy, the sea looks like an enormous puddle. If you look carefully, you notice that the sea is a different shade of blue each day. I always look for Grandpa’s boat too. He gets up at five o’clock every morning to go fishing.

Above our houses there’s the main road, and above the main road there are slopes to go sledding or skiing on in winter. Once, Lena and I made a ramp so that Lena could try jumping over the main road on her sled. She landed right in the middle of the road and hurt her backside so badly that she had to lie on her stomach for two days. There was a car coming too. It had to jam on its brakes before we could roll her onto the side of the road.

At the top of the slopes, far, far up, is Hillside Jon’s farm. He’s Grandpa’s best friend. Farther up from there are the mountains, and when you get to the top of the mountains, you can see our little cabin. It takes two hours to walk there.

Lena and I know everything that’s worth knowing about Mathildewick Cove. And even more. So we knew exactly where we should look to find what we needed for our sun decoration.

Thank goodness Grandpa has taught us how to make proper knots. It comes in handy every so often, even if we have solemnly sworn not to make any more ropeways. Before you could say “smoking haddocks,” Lena had tied a clove hitch so that our big round sun would stay together. Lena is really fast when she gets going. But it still took us a long time to get the hay to stop sticking out of the old rags we put around it. The sun was a bit lopsided: it wasn’t easy to make it properly round. It was as big as Lena and me, and looked quite impressive. We took a few steps back and tilted our heads.

“Excellent,” said Lena, smiling contentedly.

Just when we were going to put our sun in the old stables, along came Magnus.

“Have you made a scarecrow?” he asked.

“It’s the sun,” I explained.

Magnus began to laugh. “That thing there? That’s the worst bonfire decoration I’ve ever seen! Good thing it’s going to be burned!”

I got quite angry. Lena got even angrier.

“Buzz off! Just go down to the shore and build the bonfire!” she yelled, so loudly that my sweater quivered.

So Magnus left, but we could hear him laughing for a long time. I told Lena that Magnus was just jealous because usually he and Minda get all the glory from making the bonfire decoration. But that didn’t help much. Lena snarled and kicked our sun, making it fall over. A bit of hay came out from the middle.

We went to Lena’s and got something to drink. Lena’s mother paints and makes art out of strange things, so their whole house is filled with all kinds of odd objects. They even have half a motorcycle in their utility room. It’ll be a whole bike when they finish screwing it all together. Lena blew big angry bubbles in her glass as her eyes darted around the living room. All of a sudden she stopped blowing and her face took on a thoughtful look.

Up on top of a red corner cupboard was a fox puppet with the bushiest tail I’d ever seen. I’d often looked at him. His eyes were different sizes, his nose was a bit twisted, and some of his fluff had come out, but Lena’s mom had knitted him a nice scarf. It was the fox that Lena was looking at.

I was terrified when I realized what she was thinking.

“But surely we can’t . . . ?”

“You’re supposed to put old junk on the bonfire, Trille. Smoking haddocks, that fox is over thirty years old; Mom has said so many times.”

“Isn’t it
too
old?” I asked.

Lena thought that was a good question, even if she did say so herself. The older, the better. She pushed the yellow rocking chair over to the cupboard and ordered me up to get the fox down.

“My knees are shaking,” I mumbled.

Lena grabbed hold of them with her lean fingers.

“They’re not now.”

It was easier to make our sun with the fox inside instead of hay. We curled him into a ball, nose to tail, and stuffed him inside. With some rays made out of tinsel, as well as sunglasses and an old hat, our sun almost looked alive. Nobody would have guessed there was a fox inside. We hid it under Lena’s bed.

It took me a while to get to sleep that night. In the end I included the fox in my evening prayers.

“Dear God, please don’t let him get really burned up.”

When I came down to the kitchen on the morning of the Midsummer festival, Auntie Granny was there.

“Well, if it isn’t my young laddie Trille,” she said with a wink.

Auntie Granny is fat and old, and is Grandpa’s big sister. She lives about twelve miles away and comes to visit us every time it’s not an ordinary day—at Christmas and Easter and on birthdays, and on May 17, the national day, and so on. And at Midsummer. Our real grandmother, who was married to Grandpa, died when she was only thirty-five. Auntie Granny is our substitute grandmother.

I felt all warm inside when I saw her. Auntie Granny’s face is such a nice shape because she smiles all the time. Everyone in my family is cheerful and makes jokes when she comes to visit, and we play card games and eat hard candies and listen to stories told by Auntie Granny and Grandpa. And Auntie Granny makes waffles. People say that lots of things are the best in the world, but Auntie Granny’s waffles really
are
the best in the world, seriously.

It was a beautiful day. Even Dad joined in with the games and waffle-eating. He was supposed to be muck-spreading, but Mom thought that he should wait for another day so that we wouldn’t have to celebrate Midsummer surrounded by the smell of manure. And Dad thought that was absolutely fine.

At six o’clock, Mom clapped her hands and said it was time for the bonfire. I wished I had a button on my forehead that I could press to make me disappear. Why didn’t God make buttons like that for us? I’d much rather have that than those toes in the middle that don’t do anything.

We were just about to go when Auntie Granny put her hand on her back and said that she had to have a little rest. Grandpa stayed to keep her company—and to eat even more candies and waffles.

“I want to stay here too!” I said.

I wasn’t allowed.

I hadn’t seen Lena all day, but here she came with our magnificent sun wrapped up in a sheet, and with a deep worry line on her forehead.

“Shall we just forget about it?” I said.

Lena glanced at Magnus and shook her head.

Everyone who lives in Mathildewick Cove was gathered down on the shore. There was my family; Lena’s mother; Uncle Tor, who is Dad’s little brother; and Uncle Tor’s girlfriend. On the pebbles was the tallest and best bonfire setup I’d ever seen. Minda, Magnus, and Dad had built it. My older sister and brother were happy and proud.

“Well, now all that’s missing is Trille and Lena’s decoration for the top,” said Dad, twirling his mustache.

Lena cleared her throat and rolled our sun decoration out of the sheet. Everyone stared in astonishment at what we’d made.

“That’s amazing,” said Minda, impressed, and the grown-ups nodded. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Lena’s worry line had turned into a small crater. I touched my own forehead. There was no button yet.

Minda took the sun under her arm and clambered up to the top of the bonfire. Her knees didn’t shake in the slightest while she was up there—so many feet above the ground.

Minda was adopted from Colombia. Mom and Dad adopted her when she was a little orphaned baby. I sometimes wonder if she isn’t really an Incan princess. She looks a bit like one. And on this Midsummer’s Eve, when she was standing on top of the bonfire with her hair fluttering in the wind, I thought she looked more like an Incan princess than ever. I almost felt happy for a moment, until Uncle Tor pulled out his lighter. He was just about to light the fire when Krølla shouted, “Bwide and gwoom!”

Everyone turned round. There was a couple dressed as bride and groom coming across our freshly cut field. Grandpa and Auntie Granny! I think I went into a mild state of shock. It was the kind of thing you only see in films. Auntie Granny had borrowed Dad’s suit and was dressed as the bridegroom. She looked like a fat penguin. And Grandpa was wearing a long white dress, a veil, and high-heeled shoes. He was using his cactus as the wedding bouquet.

I didn’t know it was possible to laugh like we did then. Mom’s fizzy pear juice went down the wrong way so much that she coughed until the next day. Uncle Tor had to kneel down, he was laughing so hard. And the best thing of all was that nobody was thinking about the bonfire.

But when Grandpa and Auntie Granny finally sat down, Uncle Tor took out his lighter again.

“Don’t light it,” Lena said quickly.

Everyone looked at her in surprise, but before we could protest any more, Uncle Tor had set it alight. I saw Lena stop breathing for a moment. She was gathering strength for a gigantic scream: the sort of scream that only Lena can produce. I just managed to put my hands over my ears before it came.

“PUT IT OUT!” she howled.

The flames were dancing up the side of the bonfire toward our big round sun.

“Mom, it’s your fox! It’s your fox that’s inside the sun. Put it out!”

Minda was the first to react. As fast as lightning, she emptied a can of sausages and filled it with seawater. Then it was as if everyone woke up. We emptied all the cans and boxes we could find and tripped over one another on our way to and from the water’s edge. Dad pointed and gave orders and tried to get us to form a line. He’s a member of the volunteer fire brigade in our area. But it wasn’t much use. The flames were eating their way up.

“Oh no, oh no,” I groaned quietly, no longer daring to look at the bonfire.

We eventually realized that we couldn’t douse it. The bonfire was raging.

“It’s no use!” shouted Uncle Tor, throwing his arms out.

Just as he said that and all hope seemed lost, we heard someone starting the tractor. It was still up in the field with a spreader full of manure. Grandpa had gotten in and was reversing toward us at a furious speed.

“Out of the way!” he yelled from the window, trying to keep the veil out of his eyes.

Mom gave a shriek. That was all she could do before the bride turned the muck-spreader on full power, at just the right distance from the bonfire.

For a short, bizarre moment, the sky turned brown. I remember thinking,
There’s no way this can be happening!
Everyone bent over with their hands above their heads. Then the cow pies came raining down. Every single one of us was sprayed with muck from head to toe. It was no use running. We couldn’t see or hear anything other than flying muck.

When it finally stopped, it was as if all the sounds in the world were gone. Everyone, all the people from Mathildewick Cove, just stood there. Not an inch of our bodies was free of cow muck. In my whole life I will never, ever forget it.

The tractor door opened slowly. Grandpa carefully lifted his dazzling white dress up a little and tiptoed neatly through the muck toward us.