CH 4
"What are you going to give dad for Christmas?"
The question took Saga by surprise and she stopped drinking her coffee to reflect.
She was living with Henrik - albeit temporary, she told herself, knowing he'd never throw her out again - she was supposed to remember dates like birthdays or anniversaries - although she still debated if they anniversary was the first time they had sex or the evening of their first kiss – to celebrate holidays and to act by consequence.
Trying not to show Astrid her uneasiness, Saga answered she was open to suggestions, because Christmas was close, less than a month, and her options were few.
"I think dad accepts whatever gift from me or you."
"You're his baby, but why also from me?"
"Come on, as a man he has eyes for you only, I see when he collects me at school, how the other mothers look at him, there are a few divorced or single and he's become the hottest man around. He is polite and says hallo and nothing more. He don't look at them."
"Is that so? I've met Maja's mom, she's kind."
"She's good and nice, but the others! If you don't believe me, come and see. I heard two girls betting which woman dad will choose and I wanted to tell them dad has already find his best friend."
"Me and your father are more than friends."
Astrid rolled her yeas at Saga, she knew her difficulties in understanding some subtle aspect of human interaction, especially regarding her own love life.
"How do you want to be defined? Girlfriend, partner, lover?"
"There is a difference. We're too old to be considered girlfriend and boyfriend. And lovers often are non committed people who could be married and unfaithful."
Astrid nodded, Saga was learning, slowly.
"Now that's sorted out, back to the gift part. I'm going to buy him music, he has an impressive stereo covered by dust. I want him to improve his collection with something modern. And I'll do a portrait of dad, grandpa Klaus bought me canvas and colours and I work on it at my private art class and when I visit the grannies. It's a big surprise for dad."
"Do you think he'll buy me a gift?"
"I'm sure. But it will be a surprise so you'll get no clues from me."
Saga took a sheet and a pen to write down her ideas. The firsts that sprung to her mind were too trivial, good for a friend, not for a partner. Her concentration was weak, Astrid's words about the mothers at school admiring Henrik were a distraction she couldn't put aside.
And the gift itself, the idea of giving something for the pleasure to make another person happy.
The prison pottery mug, the only object she gave him.
It was on Henrik's office desk, then suddenly disappeared. Saga never asked Henrik the reason, she guessed it was another way to erase her from his life. When she was writing the urgent reports on Susanne's arrest, her desk was a mess with all the folders Jonas put on it and her stapler fell on the floor; she had to kneel to retrieve it and she saw a small piece of ceramic between the desk panel and the trash bin.
It was the colour of her mug, at a considerable distance from the desk Henrik mainly used. Not an accidental fall, she was sure. He was so angry those days, before their world realigned again with Astrid.
She had to find the right gift, one with the meaning and the importance Henrik deserved.
At the beginning of December all the houses in Henrik's street were decorated for the incoming holidays.
Henrik had kept his house bare for eight years, a black sheep in the coloured flock of his neighborhood, so it was a sort of revelation the possibility to dress it again in Christmas colours for his daughter. The first time he'd do it for Saga, too, in two years they had celebrated the holidays in the shallow prison visiting room.
He went into the basement to inspect the boxes full of decorations Alice bought years before. He took off carefully the items and saw the lights didn't turned on and the fake tree was loosing all the green needles.
Alice was careful to choose balls and lights safe for little children, not to be inadvertently eaten causing choking.
Not a good idea to open that can of worms: near the boxes full of coloured balls he saw a plastic envelope full of photos.
His hand trembled and he had to sit on the bare floor. Photos of his daughters under the Christmas tree, one for each year, at first Astrid then also Anna, playing with dolls or stuffed toys and wearing festive dresses.
A tear fell on a photo and Henrik swiftly wiped it to preserve the print. The past was still in his present, how beautiful it would have been to have both daughters with him.
His counsellor told him to cry whenever he had the need, his grief still powerful, lessened only by Astrid's presence and Saga's choice to stay.
He had lost his wife, a daughter and an unborn child, still he had two women to live for.
When his eyes got dry, he stood up and put the useless or broken things in the trash.
He planned a day off from work and after dropping Astrid at school and Saga at the station he drove to a department store with a huge display of Christmas decorations. He bought lights, balls for the trees, a star made of paper with a light inside, wreaths, a candelabrum, a branch of mistletoe and a pine in a vase, to be recycled later at the same store.
In a nearby shop he saw dishes and table clothes with seasonal prints and added them to the purchases.
He spent an hour setting up everything as a surprise for his daughter, controlling from the outside there were no visible decorations, so back from school Astrid got off the car without any clue.
She was delighted to see the tree - covered with silver and red balls - standing proud in the middle of the living area and the wreaths dangling from the back windows.
Henrik showed her candles and lights for the front side of the house and they worked as a team to complete the project.
She barely remembered her mother's decorations, at the village Harriet and Frank were never eager to celebrate Christmas, but her house now was in full seasonal mood.
She eyed the mistletoe, asking her father why he bought it.
"It's the tradition. If you stand under a mistletoe with a woman, you have to kiss her and she cannot refuse."
"Are you planning to kiss Saga?"
"I do hope."
"You used to kiss Mom."
"Mom liked it a lot, she was such a caring woman, she kissed me back, too."
"Place it over the corridor entrance, Saga will never notice it. If you get it over the front door she'll see it immediately. Make it appear like a normal decoration."
The teachers decided to develop the reading discussion group from January on, but the Christmas play would be the start of the project.
Henrik wanted to add Saga's number to the parents phone group, they had to discuss the same books of the students to help and interact with them.
Saga was unsure, she started filling the dishwasher with excessive precision to get the right spot for every glass.
"The teachers think yours is an excellent project."
"It seemed a good idea then."
"Still is."
"But the parents, I'm not good at interaction with people."
"It's only a bunch of parents, harmless. Some are very boring."
"Still they are parents."
"You're too, for me and Astrid you are."
"I m not her mother."
"There's a rainbow family and a few step parents in."
She lowered her gaze.
The three of them was a thing, known by a few ex colleagues and relatives only, coming out with the rest of the world still difficult.
Henrik touched briefly her hand to stop Saga switching again the glasses in the basket.
"If you don't feel up to, it is not a problem."
"Remember I'm not good at house sharing. And now child sharing."
He nodded, hard to balance their life as a couple: pushing her too much could be counterproductive, still he wanted her to know how much he cared.
"Nobody forces you, we'll continue our way."
Saga stood up and closed the dishwasher.
"Astrid asked me if I can loose her now. I can't. Put me in the group."
The young painters worked along the windows of the great hall, leaving the stage to the choir; the traditional songs helped to create an atmosphere of serenity, it was better than having the actors rehearsing, with their bickering and quarrelling.
The students needed space to paint over the large sheets and panels that had to represent the acts of the play.
The art teacher was supervising and giving suggestions, he had traced basic contours in black and the students were applying layers of colours, using a different technique for each of the four scenes prepared.
The actors arrived after a costume session, Mr. Henlund was discussing on the phone and his words resounded in the excellent acoustics of the hall.
All because the replacement of the main actress had abandoned the cast after an hysteric discussion because the director didn't allow her a costume that better showed her body. She was one of the most beautiful girls of the school and the play set at the end of the 1800 required traditional costumes.
Mr. Henlund went to the art teacher and started complaining all the girls were excited like Hollywood starlets and not amateurs performers in the Nordic tradition of Ingrid Bergman.
The colleague laughed and told him his painters were quiet for the moment, not pretending to be the new Andy Warhol.
The director looked at the line of painters and noticed Astrid's profile.
"That one would be good for me, but she didn't subscribe for the casting. Who is she?"
"The blue cardigan? Astrid Sabroe, she's new to the school."
Mr. Henlund approached Astrid's chair and noticed her use of dark colours with thick brush strokes.
"Come and sit with me for a moment.", he asked her, gesturing to one of the last rows.
Astrid eyed the Peugeot waiting for her outside the school building, with dad and Saga.
She called Maja for a free ride home and the girls run to the car, excited, Astrid waving the script in her hand.
"I've acted today! The director want me to be the substitute of the main actress!"
"She was great, I saw her on stage."
"That's great Astrid, do you like it?" Henrik was happy seeing his daughter happy.
"A lot. Mr. Henlund wants Crochit to be a woman instead of a man to give girls a bigger role. He says we can try new things in a play and see how it gets."
Maja confirmed Astrid's words.
"My mother says it is common, sometimes directors change time or space in stage productions."
Saga opened the script and saw notes on the margin.
"Interesting uptake. The main core of the story is unchanged. Acting is a new experience for you."
"Yes Saga, like dad, he told me he did a part in a school play and he was good, maybe he could have become an actor, not a detective."
"Oh Astrid, with my tooth gap nobody would hire me."
Saga looked at him like she was assessing his acting possibilities.
"Why not? You'd be a good character actor. Or you become a detective after the crime film of the eighties?"
"Thanks Saga, I entered police after my father business was bought by his creditors."
"I don't know for sure what I'd like to do in the future, I don't know if I m talented enough in painting."
Maja nodded, they had talked a lot about going together to an art school to express their artistic sides.
"You girls will have all the time to decide." Saga declared and started telling them she wanted to study microbiology before entering the police academy. Astrid replied that Saga was changing again her life, going back to university for a master in criminology.
"The time I was police felt right, now I want to explore something else."