‘Nothing for you,’ she says tartly.
All the same, Teo asks her to serve him some too, and the old man stretches out his tankard, ecstatic.
Having got his spirits, the Pole notices a woman seated at a corner table, stands up and staggers over to her. The woman wastes no time in putting her arm round the man’s neck; she laughs loudly as he kneads her breasts. The man accompanying the woman is not bothered, merely smiling and leaning against the wall. He has a knife tucked into his boot. Teo stares at it for a moment too long.
The man glances at Teo, rubs his chin, tugs at the woman’s sleeve discreetly and nods in Teo’s direction. The woman starts staring at Teo fervidly, slowly licking her front teeth. The gesture is probably meant to be seductive. She frees herself from the Pole’s grasp.
The landlady pretends not to notice Teo’s plight. The old fellow is no use to him either; he murmurs something about Janne Halli to the remaining drop of spirits in his tankard.
When the woman stands up, the Pole flops forward on to the table.
At that moment, Matsson enters the tavern and crosses the small room in a couple of strides. The woman looks at Matsson, disappointed, then at her companion, who merely waves his hand, resigned. The woman starts waking up the Pole coquettishly.
‘Well,’ Matsson grunts, grinning wolf-like.
He shoves the old man to the end of the bench. The Ostrobothnian pushes back but then recognizes Matsson. He lowers his head, hunching his narrow shoulders in the manner of a dog caught by his master up to no good. Matsson is the type of person whose gentle nature is not apparent.
‘I didn’t really have any business with you,’ Teo admits, almost ashamed.
After leaving Cecilia and the Alhambra, he had stood for a moment on the market square. A strong wind blew in from the sea. Teo watched the large, foam-crested waves hit the rocks of Katajanokka. It seemed to him that the miserable shacks of the district would not withstand the storm if he failed to stand by their side, spreading his arms to protect them and calming the merciless sea. He did not feel like going home, walking around the empty rooms and lusting after Cecilia, who seemed just as unobtainable after every visit.
The drifting clouds were low. They pressed everything down with an unrelenting strength; the peninsula on which the town stood seemed on the brink of yielding. A mass of whooshing water would then sweep over the villa Kalliolinna and the observatory, and, with a solemn roar, drown St Nicholas’ Church with its cupolas, and the Senate House. The new Orthodox cathedral would plunge thunderously into the waves. The sea would wash away the brothels of Punavuori effortlessly, the rickety wooden planks of the walls would scatter like sticks in the waves. The Green Hell would vanish, the Alhambra would follow. And Cecilia.
Teo pictured the reddish hair floating in the depths like a twisting aquatic plant, the skirt swelling like the bell of a jellyfish, moving the lifeless but beautiful body past sunken ships, past the Hanko Peninsula and the Åland islands towards Stockholm.
But the woman would never reach her home in Dalarna. Her body would get caught in a fisherman’s net off some rocky, sea-battered islet. A man would drag Cecilia out of the water and look at the dead mermaid with a puzzled expression spreading over his weather-beaten face.
In Katajanokka, Teo called in at the tavern, then felt unsafe and sent the landlady’s son out to look for Matsson.
‘What’s this all about, then?’ Matsson wonders.
‘I just… I wanted to see you.’
‘Regrettably, I can’t stay here any longer. And I’ve got some business of my own I’d like to discuss with the doctor,’ Matsson says, getting up.
The storm has subsided. The city has won one battle; the spire on the church cupola has succeeded in tearing holes in the blanket of clouds, through which the moon shimmers.
‘If I were the doctor, I’d be sitting by the fire drinking liqueurs with other learned men, not spending my time in taverns round here.’
‘You said you had something to tell me?’
‘Right, yes. I’ve got… a woman. Not a relative, but I took her in as a sort of favour. Could the doctor… examine her to make sure she’s all right? That she hasn’t got any…’
‘Venereal diseases.’
‘That’s it.’
Teo sees Matsson’s lips forming the words ‘venereal diseases’ in the dark.
‘I’ll pay the doctor, of course. But I haven’t got money at the moment.’
‘Well, I’m sure we’ll think of something.’
‘Though I’ve already paid, sort of. A word of warning to the doctor: that Polish sailor will be lucky if he just wakes up on the seashore with no money or clothes,’ Matsson says.
‘I don’t think he had any money left. And without clothes, he’ll die of cold. Even with clothes.’
‘In that case, it’d be best if he wakes up in the sea. Or not at all,’ Matsson comments.
A dog with a whipped air hops out from behind the corner of a crooked building, dragging one of its hind legs. It looks like its master, and its master is none other than Katajanokka, with its hastily erected wooden shacks that seem to tilt in new directions after every gust of wind. Matsson’s hovel is no different from the rest of the district’s miserable homes.
The girl sitting on the bed inside stands up and curtsies. She is barely twenty. Matsson passes Teo a lantern. Despite being pockmarked, the girl’s face looks somehow appealing to Teo in the dim light.
When Teo asks the girl to undress, she lifts the hem of her dirty linen dress up to her armpits and lies down. She wears no underwear. Teo parts the girl’s knees. Matsson clears his throat and says he will wait outside. The girl stares at the wooden planks of the ceiling as Teo sits down on the bed and turns the flame of the lantern higher, to look between her legs. The hair there is pale, somehow colourless. The girl’s face retains the same serious, expressionless quality as Teo pushes his finger inside. The hole is tight; she is not very experienced and appears healthy at first glance.
The girl’s locks are the same sandy colour as her pubic hair. Teo cannot resist stroking her head. The girl starts, not in a frightened way, but rather as if she were about to fall asleep. Teo tries to smile at the girl in a friendly fashion. He does not know which of them is more embarrassed by the situation.
The girl has interesting looks: Teo can mould her into anything he chooses in his mind. She appears ugly if he wants to think that way, beautiful if beauty is what he seeks.
He moves his finger back and forth. He already knows she is not diseased. Her expression does not change, she thinks of Teo only as a doctor. Still, she is beginning to get wet. Teo takes his finger out and places it on the spot Cecilia has told him about. He feels something like a small marble under his finger. He circles his finger on it lightly, asks what it feels like, trying to sound as if he were examining a patient’s knee.
Teo asks the girl what her name is. She is called Saara.
He takes his finger off. Saara pulls her dress down straight away. Teo calls for Matsson.
‘Well?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with her.’
Matsson nods at the girl. She turns her gaze from Matsson to Teo, and quickly takes off her dress. Matsson declares that Teo may collect his payment as he sees fit; he himself is in the middle of a job outside.
Saara sits naked on the edge of the bed. Teo takes off his clothes, folds them up and puts them on the small table.
He moves his fingers on Saara’s lips. Her posture is rigid but she opens her mouth enough for Teo to understand that she understands. He pushes himself into the girl’s mouth. Too deep: she begins to choke, and withdraws. A new attempt. This time, Saara takes hold of Teo’s member and guides the end of it into her mouth. She sucks it like a piece of meat she has discovered in a stew.