Tytti Vertainen held the letter of complaint up to her nose, a three-page lambasting from a disgruntled reader of the Tapiolinna Times, a sleepy island weekly in the Finnish archipelago. She placed it underneath her papers at the bottom of her work tray; then she pulled it out and looked at it again. If she left it down there, would she come in every day and remember it lurking at the bottom? There were things down there that had been there for years. Ideas for stories yet to be realised, cuttings and photos that would never be filed. This particular letter could skulk away like a rusty old bicycle at the bottom of a lake, quietly polluting the water with the oil from its chain.
Tytti was a writer, a journalist supposedly. Accustomed to writing about others’ ruin, she felt angry, and even a bit hurt, at this attack directed towards her. Maybe she would tear the letter up; or better still, burn it. The stench of alcohol wafted her way.
‘The President isn’t visiting today. Why are you using the good coffee cups?’
Steadying himself Teemu, her boss, rested the fronts of his thighs against the side of her desk. Broken capillaries riddled his bloodshot face. Tytti crooked her neck to avoid the fumes.
‘Or any day soon I’d imagine.’
‘What’s that you’re hiding from me?’
‘I’m not about to tell you if I’m hiding it from you.’ She stuffed the letter into the bottom of her work tray.
‘Oh whatever.’ He swayed slightly as he went to leave then corrected his posture and turned back again. ‘But as your manager, I should know what you’re working on.’
‘Stop bothering me. Paying me a salary doesn’t mean you control me. I’m not your puppet.’
‘Actually you are, and I want you to do what I tell you to do!’
‘I know when something needs to be done.’
‘You do not! You procrastinate.’
‘I do not! I ruminate. It’s important to carry a thought through.’
‘We have deadlines to meet.’
‘And I like to see them pass by.’
‘You’ll never win employee of the month with that attitude.’ Teemu staggered as he turned and wobbled back to his office.
‘”Team work makes the dream work”,’ muttered Tytti, watching his departing back with loathing.
Noted for his love of whisky and cigars, he was usually annoying, but now reaching new
heights. She had seen his wife around and noticed that she had lost a lot of weight. Teemu had grumbled one day about how she was inflicting a healthier lifestyle on him and how he was fed up with healthy food and being told to exercise.
While hiding the letter to avoid Teemu’s prying eyes, Tytti had spotted some notes on a feature she had started researching. The article had come to nothing, as usual. She had completed the official form required to proceed, but it had been returned rejected.
‘He really should stay away from open flames. He might combust.’
Tytti laughed.
‘Another coffee?’
The suggestion came from across the room, from her good friend Kai, sitting at the opposite desk.
‘Why not.’ She smiled encouragingly. They had known each other all their lives but their paths had diverged when each had left the island to study and Kai had taken a job in Stockholm. Now Kai had been sat directly opposite her, brought in as Managing Accountant to find a way to make the newspaper profitable. It did not matter that he was neither a manager nor an accountant, since his mother, Anna Tapio, owned the newspaper.
Looking down at that day’s page in her diary, Tytti wondered whether she should ask Kai a few questions. After all he was the son of Anna Tapio who, the next day, was holding a grand opening at a local castle now converted to a luxury hotel. She was scheduled to go along and interview people. Apart from having to talk to the guests, Tytti usually enjoyed these large events as a good buffet was often laid on.
Kai walked back into the room carrying a tray loaded with washed coffee cups and implements, and set it down on the coffee table next to the little red sofa. Their tiny office had once been a sweet shop and the little red sofa had been skilfully squashed into the old shop window. It was just long enough for Tytti to stretch out her legs, and was a good place to sit and think. She could also watch people go about their business in the market square, a slatted blind keeping them from knowing they were being observed. Not that Tytti considered it spying: it was just to pass the time. Often, she would be intently watching one of the market traders neatly stacking vegetables when the seller, sensing her eyeballing him, perhaps, would look round to exactly the point where she was sitting.
Strange old world, thought Tytti. But did strange include that faint whiff of liquorice she smelt late at night when she was working alone? Liquorice was one of the favourite confections of the Finns. Maybe even dead ones. She hoped there was nothing in that.
‘Just ignore Teemu,’ Tytti said. ‘He doesn’t have a classy bone in his body. From now on, let’s use these cups every day.’
‘I was thinking,’ said Kai, looking up as he carefully laid out the coffee apparatus, ‘I was thinking I might be able to help you tomorrow evening. Take a few photos or something.’
As he said this, he set out the delicate cups, saucers, silver spoons, sugar bowl, silver tongs, jug of cream, gold-rimmed side plates and Tytti’s old biscuit tin.
‘That would be a good idea. You’ll know who’s who.’
‘I’ve become really quite interested in photography, you see. I know I’m here as the accountant, but, well, I hoped, if it was all right with you, I could maybe take a few pictures now and again?’
Watching his face closely, Tytti saw that his heart really lay in photography and that he probably had little interest in accountancy. That was fine by her. She had never got round to reading that camera manual anyway. And the managing? Well there was very little that needed managing. Tytti certainly did not need it.
The wages, pondered Tytti, he must remember to manage the wages.
The previous accountant had managed to forget the payroll on several occasions, thus putting quite a strain on her and Denis’s finances for the month. Yes, Denis. She was not sure if Kai had met him yet, as he often came in excessively early to do the cleaning. He was so stealthy that Tytti often forgot he existed herself. As a journalist, Tytti was a late riser, preferring to come into the office after a leisurely breakfast at around 10 a.m. Of course, her work often took her into the evening and the night, newsworthy events coming and going as they did. And if a print deadline arrived and a story was not quite ready, well, they could just shift things round a bit and put it into next week’s edition. It did not matter – or did it? One of the items on the list of complaints was a comment on how many stories seemed to appear a week or two after the event. The complainant obviously did not comprehend how long it took for people to get back to her. But then perhaps should she be more urgent in her requests for information. Maybe not. Features, op-eds, whatever, took time to put together. They must be left to percolate, like coffee in a machine. No decent coffee ever came from a jar of instant.
‘Okay,’ replied Tytti finally.
Kai’s phone rang.
‘Kai Ta ...,’ he began, before he was interrupted.
Watching slyly, Tytti assessed Kai’s appearance.
He’s always been handsome, she thought as she watched a slew of emotions cross his face.
He was tall and blonde like many Finnish people, but unusually his hair was almost golden in colour rather than the more familiar white blonde.
His mother’s hotel, Tapiolinna Castle, was one of the finer castles. It had been built when praying was in fashion, and had more chapels than bathrooms. It was large and imposing and still had a deep moat around it. Many of Finland’s smaller castles’ moats had dried up and they now resembled misplaced follies, positioned on a rock next to a waning river, lost to the undergrowth and nesting pigeons. Many had been abandoned by the soldiers many centuries ago, when their payment, the beer, had run out.
Concluding her scrutiny, Tytti craned her neck and looked out over to the market square. She could see people meandering about with woven shopping baskets. She could just see her friend Ritva Lempinen collecting a bright yellow coffee mug from a table outside her bookshop on the other side of the square. Kai rang off and hurriedly began to put his coat on.
‘Problem?’ suggested Tytti.
‘Sorry. Do you mind if I leave early?’ replied Kai, a frown on his face.
‘Go, go, no problem. I’ll let Teemu know, and see you at the hotel tomorrow.’
Warped by the summer heat, the old sweet shop door creaked as Kai disappeared through it.
Tytti went around the desks and sat down on the little red sofa. As she sipped her coffee, she slipped off her shoes, pulled up her knees and considered the day ahead. Two short news stories, mundane to say the least. A cat stuck up a tree had had to be knocked down with a water cannon when a crane could not reach it. The cat had survived and the owner had been presented with a rather large bill, which he was now disputing. And then she had a court report telling of how a taxi driver had been convicted for running over a hedgehog. He had been fined 400 euros. Neither story would require Tytti to leave her seat or apply any great effort.
‘Where’s he gone? It’s only half past ten.’ It was Teemu again.
‘No idea. He just picked up his coat and went. Thinks he owns the place,’ said Tytti, keeping a straight face.
‘Absolutely! I will have a firm talk with him. But, then again ... his mother does own the newspaper.’ Teemu’s shoulders shrank just a little. ‘What if he went back to his mother and told her what I said? Family members can be excessively loyal to one another. Even if one of them is clearly in the wrong.’
‘Still, I’d be quick to show him who’s boss before he ousts you and starts to run the place. I wonder if there’s been anything unusual happening up at the castle recently? It would be in the public interest to know.’
‘Oh just leave it alone Tytti. Anyway, my wife just phoned and we’re going out to lunch. I may or may not come back, depending on how I feel.’
Depending on how much you’ve drunk, thought Tytti. The door creaked as Teemu exited.
Tytti sighed. Men. They always left her to it. At least she would have a cup of coffee and a biscuit, so she could at any rate enjoy the peace and quiet.
Turning to continue her surveillance of the market square, she was startled to find someone’s face pushed up against the window, looking back at her. She backed off quickly, splashing coffee down her front. Then the door slowly opened. Pushed at that speed, it made no creaking sound, and Tytti looked up from a coffee stain to see a rather dowdy-looking young woman standing before her.
‘Can I help you?’ she offered.
The young woman stood very still and wore thick glasses that made it difficult for Tytti to see her eyes clearly. She handed Tytti a piece of paper.
‘I was just wondering, hoping really, that there might be a job opening here. You see I’ve just moved to the island.’
The piece of paper was a CV. Tytti scanned it briefly. The girl did have some experience on one of the free papers. A not-very-prestigious newspaper.
‘I’m afraid there’s no opening at the moment.’ Tytti wondered if she should give the CV back. It was unusual for a job applicant to simply walk in and hand one over like this. Normally, these things would be done online, thus avoiding such awkwardness.
‘Please keep it,’ said the young woman as Tytti’s hand hovered between them. ‘Maybe something will come up. Goodbye then.’
Tytti watched her departing back. Her quietude had been interrupted, but Tytti was unaware, at that moment, exactly to what extent.