They followed the old woman out of the cafeteria and down a path behind it. While they walked, she said, “You are new in these parts?”
“We might as well admit it,” answered Alberto.
“That’s all right. Welcome to eternity then, children.”
“And you?”
“I’m out of one of Grimm’s fairy tales. That was nearly two hundred years ago. And where are you from?”
“We’re out of a book on philosophy. I am the philosophy teacher and this is my student, Sophie.”
“Hee hee! That’s a new one!”
They came through the trees to a small clearing where there were several cozy-looking brown cottages. A large Midsummer bonfire was burning in a yard between the cottages, and around the bonfire danced a crowd of colorful figures. Sophie recognized many of them. There were Snow White and some of the seven dwarfs, Mary Poppins and Sherlock Holmes, Peter Pan and Pippi Longstocking, Little Red Ridinghood and Cinderella. A lot of familiar figures without names had also gathered around the bonfire—there were gnomes and elves, fauns and witches, angels and imps. Sophie also caught sight of a real live troll.
“What a lot of noise!” exclaimed Alberto.
“That’s because it’s Midsummer,” said the old woman. “We haven’t had a gathering like this since Valborg’s Eve. That was when we were in Germany. I’m only here on a short visit. Was it coffee you wanted?”
“Yes, please.”
Not until now did Sophie notice that all the buildings were made out of gingerbread, candy, and sugar icing. Several of the figures were eating directly off the facades. A baker was going around repairing the damage as it occurred. Sophie ventured to take a little bite off one corner. It tasted sweeter and better than anything she had ever tasted before.
Presently the old woman returned with a cup of coffee.
“Thank you very much indeed.”
“And what are the visitors going to pay for the coffee?”
“To pay?”
“We usually pay with a story. For coffee, an old wives’ tale will suffice.”
“We could tell the whole incredible story of humanity,” said Alberto, “but unfortunately we are in a hurry. Can we come back and pay some other day?”
“Of course. And why are you in a hurry?”
Alberto explained their errand, and the old woman commented:
“I must say, you certainly are a pair of greenhorns. You’d better hurry up and cut the umbilical cord to your mortal progenitor. We no longer need their world. We belong to the invisible people.”
Alberto and Sophie hurried back to the Cinderella cafeteria and the red convertible. Right next to the car a busy mother was helping her little boy to pee.
Racing along and taking shortcuts, they soon arrived in Lillesand.
SK 876 from Copenhagen touched down at Kjevik on schedule at 9:35 p.m. While the plane was taxied out to the runway in Copenhagen, the.major had opened the envelope hanging from the check-in desk. The note inside read:
To Major Knag, as he hands over his boarding pass at Kastrup on Midsummer Eve, 1990. Dear Dad, You probably thought I would turn up in Copenhagen. But my control over your movements is more ingenious than that. I can see you wherever you are, Dad. The fact is, I have been to visit a well-known Gypsy family which many, many years ago sold a magic brass mirror to Great-grandmother. I have also gotten myself a crystal ball. At this very moment, I can see that you have just sat down in your seat. May I remind you to fasten your seat belt and keep the back of your seat raised to an upright position until the Fasten Seat Belt sign has been switched off. As soon as the plane is in flight, you can lower the seat back and give yourself a well-earned rest. You will need to be rested when you get home. The weather in Lillesand is perfect, but the temperature is a few degrees lower than in Lebanon. I wish you a pleasant flight. Love, your own witch-daughter, Queen of the Mirror and the Highest Protector of Irony.
Albert could not quite make out whether he was angry or merely tired and resigned. Then he started laughing. He laughed so loudly that his fellow passengers turned to stare at him. Then the plane took off.
He had been given a taste of his own medicine. But with a significant difference, surely. His medicine had first and foremost affected Sophie and Alberto. And they—well, they were only imaginary.
He did what Hilde had suggested. He lowered the back of his seat and nodded off. He was not fully awake again until he had gone through passport control and was standing in the arrival hall at Kjevik Airport. A demonstration was there to greet him.
There were eight or ten young people of about Hilde’s age. They were holding signs saying: WELCOME HOME,
DAD — HILDE IS WAITING IN THE GARDEN — IRONY LIVES.
The worst thing was that he could not just jump into a taxi. He had to wait for his baggage. And all the while, Hilde’s classmates were swarming around him, forcing him to read the signs again and again. Then one of the girls came up and gave him a bunch of roses and he melted. He dug down into one of his shopping bags and gave each demonstrator a marzipan bar. Now there were only two left for Hilde. When he had reclaimed his baggage, a young man stepped forward and explained that he was under the command of the Queen of the Mirror, and that he had orders to drive him to Bjerkely. The other demonstrators dispersed into the crowd.
They drove out onto the E 18. Every bridge and tunnel they passed was draped with banners saying: “Welcome home!”, “The turkey is ready,”
“I can see you, Dad!”
When he was dropped off outside the gate at Bjerkely, Albert Knag heaved a sigh of relief, and thanked the driver with a hundred crown note and three cans of Carlsberg Elephant beer.
His wife was waiting for him outside the house. After a long embrace, he asked: “Where is she?”
“She’s sitting on the dock, Albert.”
Alberto and Sophie stopped the red convertible on the square in Lillesand outside the Hotel Norge. It was a quarter past ten. They could see a large bonfire out in the archipelago.
“How do we find Bjerkely?” asked Sophie.
“We’ll just have to hunt around for it. You remember the painting in the major’s cabin.”
“We’ll have to hurry. I want to get there before he arrives.”
They started to drive around the minor roads and then over rocky mounds and slopes. A useful clue was that Bjerkely lay by the water.
Suddenly Sophie shouted, “There it is! We’ve found it!”
“I do believe you’re right, but don’t shout so loud.”
“Why? There’s no one to hear us.”
“My dear Sophie—after a whole course in philosophy, I’m very disappointed to find you still jumping to conclusions.”
“Yes, but. . .”
“Surely you don’t believe this place is entirely devoid of trolls, pixies, wood nymphs, and good fairies?”
“Oh, excuse me.”
They drove through the gate and up the gravel path to the house. Alberto parked the car on the lawn beside the glider. A little way down the garden a table was set for three.
“I can see her!” whispered Sophie. “She’s sitting down on the dock, just like in my dream.”
“Have you noticed how much the garden looks like your own garden in Clover Close?”
“Yes, it does. With the glider and everything. Can I go down to her?”
“Naturally. I’ll stay here.”
Sophie ran down to the dock. She almost stumbled and fell over Hilde. But she sat down politely beside her.
Hilde sat idly playing with the line that the rowboat was made fast with. In her left hand she held a slip of paper. She was clearly waiting. She glanced at her watch several times.
Sophie thought she was very pretty. She had fair, curly hair and bright green eyes. She was wearing a yellow
