Tessa dreamt about skiing and snow and barbegazi, waking often to untangle her sheets. Once, she woke with a pounding heart and vivid dream images.
In the dream, she had skied through a hole into an upside-down world, where loud music blasted from invisible speakers. A giant furry creature had taken her skis and bent them into circles. “Round as a berry,” it said, and smacked its unseen lips. Then it shrank—or she grew—and the creature, now clearly a barbegazi, said, “Have a blueberry, Tessa.” It threw a turquoise berry the size of a watermelon towards her. Tessa opened her mouth, which expanded, to catch the berry. When she swallowed, the world spun again, the music stopped, and she stood in the hole in Schöngraben, looking up at the barbegazi. It said, “Have you brought the berry gift?”
The berry gift. That’s what the barbegazi had said. She remembered now.
The wooden beams of the roof creaked. She tried to imagine herself back in the hole, the barbegazi above her, instead of the ceiling, asking, “Have you brought the berry gift?” The words had been spoken in a clear, high-pitched voice. Definitely real, she thought, before she slipped into another dream.
When Tessa woke, bright winter light shone through a gap in the curtains. Mum had let her sleep in. The ski club would be training now. She wished she were there, racing, cold air prickling her skin. Then she remembered her ruined skis and pulled the duvet over her head, shutting out the light.
The berry gift! She jumped out of bed and grabbed the black book on top of her piled-up school books. Opening it, she flipped to the barbegazi chapter and skimmed the pages. The book contained interesting information about barbegazi fur and feet and iron cages, but no references to berries or gifts.
While she ate a late breakfast, she mulled over the mysterious berry gift. Mum was at home, folding laundry. She scolded Tessa for skiing off-piste alone, and nagged her about remembering to “live in the real world”. Tessa only half-listened and nodded whenever Mum paused.
“Oma’s dusting her cupboards and bookcases this afternoon,” Mum said. “I offered to do it, now that I’m taking the day off anyway, but she wants to do it herself.”
Tessa looked up. “That’s good, right?”
Mum shrugged. “I just hope it’s not too much for her. Perhaps she’ll let you help.”
“Okay,” Tessa said. “She can’t do the top shelves herself.” She didn’t need to add that Opa used to do those—Mum’s eyes became glassy before she turned away, nodding.
Later, standing on the ladder, she wiped dust from Opa’s trophies. On the biggest, a prize from the Austrian downhill championships more than forty years ago, an inset of shiny, red crystals—Tessa used to think they were rubies—sparkled like redcurrants after rain. Her thoughts wandered to the barbegazi dream.
Oma swept the duster over the grandfather clock. She appeared to have even more energy than last night. It seemed safe to ask.
“Did Opa ever mention a berry gift?”
“Him and his berries. The freezer’s so full of berries, I could hardly find room for the Tupperware of leftover goulash soup.” Oma dusted the long pendulum of the clock, and it skipped a few beats. “For years I suspected he gave them to Mrs Huber. The Hubers never had much, and after she was widowed… She was his childhood sweetheart, you know.”
In a flash, Tessa thought of old Mrs Huber—brandishing her walking stick, her mouth tugged down in a constant look of disapproval.
Sniffing, Oma pulled an embroidered handkerchief out of her sleeve. After drying her eyes, she muttered, “I didn’t speak to her for decades.”
“But he gave them to the barbegazi?”
“Of course he did. And to the very last he spoke about it. ‘Remember the berries on the twenty-first of December’ he said, ‘Remember to tell Tessa—’” Oma let her hand with the duster fall. “What date is it, dear?”
“It’s after Christmas.”
“Oh, Ohhhh…” Oma drew the sigh out. Like a balloon leaking air, she deflated and sank into the squishy armchair.
Alarmed, Tessa jumped down from the ladder.
Oma’s face had turned quite white. Tiny beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. “I promised him,” she whispered, clutching her chest, her breathing becoming ragged.
“Oma! Shall I get Mum? Your pills? Call the doctor?”
“Fe- fetch. Su- Susi. Pills,” Oma stuttered, and Tessa ran up the stairs, calling for her mother.
Tessa helped Mum get Oma wrapped in her coat and out into the car. Before she closed the passenger door, she hugged Oma and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry. I’ll bring the berries to the barbegazi,” but she wasn’t sure Oma heard.