Harjunpää climbed up the staircase, instinctively rushing, though rationally he knew that he wouldn’t find anything in Grandpa’s room that might put his mind at rest, and deep down he had a feeling that the time for rushing was already gone.
He stepped across the threshold and was met by the lingering smell of old pipe smoke. He stopped by the desk. It was exactly as Pauliina had said: Grandpa had left behind his nitrate pills and his hearing aid, and even his pocket watch. He’d never done that before; he’d kept the watch with him as though it were as important as life itself. Harjunpää’s shoulders went limp. He gently touched the thin golden chain, prodded it for a while, and after a moment somewhat hesitantly picked up the watch, wound it up, clasped it in his hand and pressed it against his chest.
‘Dad,’ said Pauliina. Harjunpää gave a start and almost guiltily put the watch back where it had been. ‘There was nothing we could do. He was supposed to be having a nap and we were all out in the garden. That’s why we didn’t even realise he was missing until dinner was ready… And now I think…’
‘Listen,’ said Harjunpää and turned around. He was tired and strangely on edge, broken on the inside; it had been such a gruelling day. He knew he mustn’t show it, because the girls would take it the wrong way. ‘Grandpa’s a grown man. He’s the one that has to take responsibility for himself and his actions. You weren’t supposed to guard him, just to make sure he was OK…’
‘But still. What if he’s…?’
Harjunpää looked at the desk and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘He’s probably down at Pilvikallio or sitting under the big spruce tree.’
‘But your expression… You don’t believe he’s there either.’
‘But I hope he is.’
‘Then let’s go and fetch him.’
‘I’d rather go by myself.’
‘Why?’
‘Pauliina,’ said Harjunpää and took his eldest daughter by the hand. ‘I’ve got to go by myself. He’s my father… You’ll understand one day. I have to do this by myself.’
They looked at each other for a moment and Harjunpää could see that Pauliina did understand, at least in some way.
‘Thank you.’
‘That’s a nice cardigan,’ said Pauliina blankly. ‘The colour… it’s as if you’re in love.’
‘Thanks. It’s Onerva’s. I’m just borrowing it.’
Harjunpää walked downstairs and went to the cleaning cupboard. The only torch in the house was there. He switched it on and gauged that there should be just enough battery power left.
‘You’re not taking us with you?’ asked Valpuri.
‘Not this time. I’m sure you understand… I’ll be able to look faster and over a wider area if I’m by myself.’
‘I suppose…’
‘OK. We’ll be back before you know it. But I think it’s past Pipsa’s bedtime.’
‘No it isn’t!’ his youngest retorted. Harjunpää was about to tell her off – but why do that? He contented himself with tickling Pipsa’s head.
‘See you in a little while…’
Harjunpää went out the front door and began walking up the grass-covered incline. Crickets chirped; night was already well underway. He chose the path on the left which led past the great spruce tree all the way to Pilvikallio, then on to the meadow and the woods, which stretched out like a wasteland almost all the way to the centre of Kirkkonummi. The path drew him further into the mysterious darkness, but when he looked up the sky shone above him as a lighter strip of blue.
He was no longer thinking of Onerva or of the old woman who had died right in front of him. He tried to block them from his mind. Perhaps he wasn’t really thinking of Grandpa either, but rather of the strange notion that had occurred to him several times in Grandpa’s company: did he want something from the old man that he didn’t quite understand? Was he looking for some sort of answer to all his questions, something that would explain away all the ills of his life? Or was it advice, wisdom, something that Grandpa had realised long ago?
He gingerly crossed the planks laid out across the brook and, ever the policeman, stopped in his tracks and switched on his torch. He lit up the bubbling waters, first higher up the hillside then to the right, but all he could see in the stream were the same gnarled roots that had always been there.
He continued up the hill and suddenly found himself wondering whether the Kirkkonummi police had a dog patrol and that, if not, whether he knew any of the dog trainers from the Helsinki force well enough to call them out in the middle of the night. He felt almost as if he were on duty and only stopped and shook himself once he started thinking where it would be best for the police to park their cars to make their journey through the woods as short as possible.
‘Please be with Grandpa,’ he said suddenly. ‘Let him be OK…’ He had reached the great spruce tree, switched on his torch and lit up the trunk. At the base of the tree was a tangle of roots where it was nice to sit, but this time there was nobody there. He held the light to one side, but everything looked just as empty. He walked briskly around the tree and shouted: ‘Grandpa! Father!’ His cries echoed faintly, but no one answered. He felt a sudden disquiet, a sense of helplessness; the forest was so large.
He turned off the torch and continued along the path towards Pilvikallio. He was more worried than before, his concern edging deeper inside him. He was almost in a panic. Without noticing it he had quickened his pace with every step, and a moment later he was jogging forwards.
‘Grandpa!’ he hollered. ‘Father!’
He ran past Valaskivi and the tree where the woodpeckers were always drumming away, and the woods gradually became thicker; trees encroached on the path and the bushes kept catching on his cardigan making him stop for a moment. It was suddenly much darker. By the time he reached the small pool, the air felt much cooler.
‘Father!’ he shouted. ‘Father, where are you?’
The path began to slope upwards. He was approaching Pilvikallio. He knew it wasn’t far now, less than a hundred metres. The air smelled ever mossier. A very small animal took fright and darted into hiding.
‘Father!’ he shouted. ‘It’s me! Timo!’
The path became much steeper and he was already out of breath. Suddenly he caught the faint smell of smoke, though it wasn’t pipe smoke. It was a bonfire, or at least it had been. Now it was the smell of dying embers from which a barely visible trail of grey smoke rose up into the sky.
He slowed his step to walking pace. He could make out Pilvikallio, a dark mountain against the sky. He couldn’t see any light at the foot of the hill. At least not yet. He stepped closer and soon he could see the red glow of the embers. He switched on the torch and aimed it at the boulder they used as a chair.
‘Father?’ he said softly. Grandpa was sitting there, his elbows propped on his knees, motionless. ‘Father?’
‘Is that you, Timo?’
‘Yes.’
‘My shoulders are so sore. They do ache.’
‘Let’s go home. Then I’ll take you to the doctor. You must be freezing.’
‘Yes, I am rather. But, Timo…?’
Harjunpää lowered his head. His chest was full of something; it felt as though it was about to burst.
‘I… You’ve never… I’ve never been able to…’
‘But it’s true. You are my son and I… very, very much…’
Harjunpää brought his hands up to his face and pretended to rub his forehead. He wanted to tell his father that he loved him, but he couldn’t; his lips were trembling so much that he simply couldn’t. Later, he thought, maybe once I’ve got him home, and with that he took off the cardigan, wrapped it around his father’s shoulders and took him firmly by the arm.