The Rain Circle

By Tony Clancy

It is 2036, and global warming is affecting everyone in different ways.

Finnish scientist Christian Laakkonen begins the year without a job when his partner, Inka, finds work in Australia. Together they struggle with the intense heat and witness a changing landscape: farms that were once productive carry 'For Sale' signs on rusty gates, and no one wants to buy.

Farmer Brian Ellson, who has an interest in technology that makes a difference, is more positive than most about the future. By year's end, he, and others like tuna fisherman Kris Pavic, will wield a difference that shocks the world with the power of science.

Actions on such a scale, however, have a human dimension. It is people, not technology alone, who will make things happen in 2036, or at any time. Relationships, contrasting views and the make-up of individuals all come into play.

Enter the families of Inka, Christian, Brian and Brian's friend Bernadette. Brian's son, the thoughtful Patrick, and Bernadette's teenage daughter, May, carry our conscience through this story. Behind them all is the power and single-mindedness of a woman dedicated to seeing things through, Hanni Neimenen.

Yes, it is climate fiction, but no story can be told without people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781925952780

Book preview

Acknowledgements

1

Helsinki February 2036

There is beauty in Finnish winters, when birches are glazed with ice and houses are topped with snow. Happy children skate on frozen ponds and fresh air flows through corridors of the city.

This is a warmer than average February and while differences from one year to the next are subtle, there is a growing number of people who see a future that is far from attractive. Among them is Christian Laakkonen, whose research at the University of Helsinki into ways of managing effects of global warming is highly acclaimed.

Christian has recently been living in the lakeside town of Lahti, 100Km north of Helsinki, with his partner Inka. Home for most of his life, however, has been the inner Helsinki suburb of Punavuori where his parents Maria and Edvard continue to live in their two storey, three bedroom, apartment. It is a densely populated part of the city but relief from any feeling of being hemmed in is provided by Synebrychoff Park with its groves of trees and meandering paths. The park is called open space by planners, which is akin to oxygen for built environments. Years ago Christian was one of those images of Finnish winter, skating on a frozen pond in the park, gracefully moving around the perimeter wearing his homespun scarf. Even now the park is used year round by his parents who like to reward themselves at the café with coffee and Runeberg torte after a vigorous walk.

Tonight Maria is anxiously preparing dinner for her dear son, Inka and Inka’s parents Susanna and Miro Aalto. The visitors are driving from Lahti and in the boot of the vehicle is luggage that will next morning accompany Christian and Inka to Helsinki International Airport. They are to fly to Australia. It is already seven o’clock and the guests are expected in half an hour. The best dinner set has been taken out of the walnut cabinet in the dining room and placed on the kitchen bench. Edvard, carefully placing silver cutlery on the dining room table, is told knives must face the other way. He rolls his bespectacled eyes as he corrects the error, places a bottle of their best wine in the centre of the table and enters the kitchen to declare this should not be a sombre occasion. He asks Maria to be happy that Inka has been recognised with funding to undertake a project and, as Christian has yet to find a job after his research, he may enjoy time to think about his future. And of course he is exploring the world.

‘He is a climate change scientist and she’s an anthropologist or archaeologist or whatever she is, yet he has no security and goes along with her,’ she retorts. ‘Tell me which is more important, the past or the future? Why isn’t our son given opportunities? And she is two years older. They are not married. What is their future? Her parents have encouraged this relationship and have seen more of him than we have in the last year. They are happy for our children to live together, unmarried. They must think our Catholic values are so out-dated and laugh at us. But still, I’ll do the right thing and be polite, if only for Christian’s sake. Yes Edvard, I am upset, but just let me be for now.’

Edvard makes a strategic retreat to the dining room, refraining from reminding her that these are adult offspring. There comes a time when the power of parental influence diminishes. He could have used the example of their own desire for independence when they completed music studies and shared dreams of joining orchestras in Vienna or London. Such dreams did not come to fruition, but the recollection makes him think every generation has a natural instinct to take flight from the nest. Now in his twelfth year as Professor of Music at the University of Helsinki, the choice to stay in Finland and pursue an academic career has been a good one. Maria also seems to be more than content playing violin with the national orchestra. They are the same age, 48, and while physical appearances have altered, they retain a youthful exuberance about music and this is a uniting factor in a relationship that has been strained since Christian moved to Lahti.

‘Well, everything is ready. They’ll be here soon,’ Maria declares from the doorway as she undoes her apron. ‘Should I change?’

‘No. You are fine,’ Edvard responds looking up and down at his wife in her flat shoes, slacks and plain fine woolen top, thinking she always looks smart. ‘They’ll be dressing casually anyway, I’m sure.’

‘It’s just that Inka and her mother and her younger sisters Emilia and Venla as well, all have that Nordic beauty and are so athletic and I am so shapeless and fat.’

‘Enough. That’s not so. You are not overweight. I’m the one who needs to lose a bit’

Saying she is as beautiful as she was the day he met her in their first music class is a response best kept for another time. For now, measured responses are in order. It is true, however, that nature has blessed Maria with clear unwrinkled skin and bright brown eyes. Christian has inherited these features, making him look even younger than his 24 years. His personality is similar to that of his father, having a thoughtful disposition and a reluctance to judge others.

As predicted by Edvard, the four dinner guests are in their best casual attire, including puffer jackets, as their vehicle turns into the street where the Laakkonens live. It is narrow with trees each side and lumps of melting snow in gutters. Susanna, who demanded she take the driver’s position after they stopped for fuel on the city’s outskirts, finds a parking space within a few doors of the apartment and quips that she always has better luck than Miro when seeking a park. Stepping out of the car into the cold air and pulling the hood of her puffer jacket over her head, she tells Inka and Christian who are finishing a private conversation in the back seat to get a move along. They walk quickly to the apartment, allowing Christian to be ahead at the door. First hugging Christian while telling him he has lost weight, Maria welcomes her guests and hurries them in, offers to take jackets and scarves and invites everyone to sit in a small lounge room. Drink orders are requested by Edvard who returns with beer plus gin and tonic, distributing the beverages as he rolls out the expected conversation starters ‘Has everyone been well?’ and ‘How was your trip today?’ When Susanna asks if she can help in the kitchen she is assured by Edvard that his wife prefers to be a lone hand. He quickly turns the subject to music, saying he has heard good things about young Venla’s progress with the violin.

Joining in with her opinion that the rest of the Aalto family is bereft of musical talent, Inka is rebuked by her father who asks if she has never heard him sing in the shower. He laughs at his own attempt at humour but no-one else does. He clears his throat and returns a non-expressive face, thinking perhaps this dinner is going to be rather serious. A sign he may be correct immediately appears in the form of the expressionless face of Maria who peers into the room to ask them to be seated in the dining room. After ushering them in, Edvard helps his wife distribute bowls of bean soup to the table. As the bowls are being placed, Inka catches the eyes of her parents and pulls her serviette up from her lap and down again to instruct them to have their piece of linen in place before eating. And there is something else before eating. A short grace is recited by Edvard as soon as Maria is seated and has given the nod that she is ready.

The first course is consumed in uncomfortable silence. There is some sound, in the form of Jean Sibelius’s Finlandia, but any stirring emotions conjured by music are not prompting conversation. Out of the blue, Maria asks who first recorded the music they are hearing. In unison the guests answer ‘Sibelius!’

‘No,’ Maria responds almost sternly. ‘Sibelius wrote the music but recordings of music in those days were rare. It was Robert Kajanus of course.’

‘Sorry, I don’t know who he is,’ Inka says politely and innocently.

‘You mean you have never heard of the person who founded the first orchestra in Finland? You know he was the Director of Music at the University of Helsinki for about 30 years from 1897?’

Miro sarcastically asks himself under his breath why the hell he didn’t know that, offended by the host’s deliberate embarrassment of his daughter. He looks to the other end of the table to catch Edvard’s expression of sadness about the way things are going. It is an expression which moves aside when Christian reminds his mother that not everyone is as lucky as they are to be brought up with music. Christian then follows mother into the kitchen for some one-to-one company, telling her he loves her and saying he will miss her. Together they place pieces of cod and roast potato on fine china plates while Edvard pours more wine and asks his guests to help themselves to a large bowl of green salad that has been put in the middle of the table.

‘Ah, cod!’ says Miro loudly, aware of frowns forming on the faces of his wife and daughter. ‘My favourite fish. Living by the lakes we get loads of freshwater fish but nothing can beat cod from the icy cold sea. Ah, I love it. Better than zander, hey Christian? Remember the day we were fishing in my old tub of a boat and your line went stiff and was pulling every which way. It was a big zander, a real beauty. And you were watching it flip about on the bottom of the boat like a contortionist, and I was yelling at you to take out the hook and put the fish in the bag before we lose it. That night we had a great feed, hey. I told you that you had to cook it since you caught it! I was only kidding and, of course, I ended up scaling it and Susanna cooked it.’

‘Yes, a memorable day,’ agrees Christian while his parents fake interest with a nod and a hint of smile.

‘If you like cod so much father, eat it before it gets cold,’ advises Inka from the side of her mouth.

Possibly because she feels a small bridge needs to be built with Inka, Maria asks ‘With whom will you be working and where will you be travelling in Australia?’

‘I am lucky to have been invited by the Australian National University in Canberra, which is providing funding for me and for one of their own researchers,’ she answers. ‘And where will I be working? For some time in Canberra and also in Kakadu in the Northern Territory and the Illawarra escarpment in New South Wales. But most of my field work will be in South Australia around the saltbush hills at a place called Olary and along the Aroona Valley in the Flinders Ranges. We also plan to spend time in the Kimberley Ranges in the north of Western Australia. So you can see we are covering a lot of the country.’

‘But why are they funding you, someone from Finland, to undertake a project in Australia?’ Maria questions.

‘Well, you know, I guess they have read my papers on our rock paintings at Hossa Varikallio and Saraakallio, as well as the ancient rock engravings in the north of Finland. These papers have been about communication in the period before literacy came in the forms we are familiar with, and this is something that I suppose they are interested in.’

Feeling she is under-selling herself, Christian interrupts to say it is her methodology that they want to learn from and apply to their situation. This prompts Maria to say she doubts the two countries have anything in common at all.

‘No, no, no that is not so,’ Christian says. ‘But sorry Inka, I am taking over. You explain.’

‘In the evolution of language we’d expect drawings to be simple and this is the case around the world,’ begins Inka. ‘But there are startling similarities of images and techniques between Finland and Australia. Early civilisations in both countries used iron oxide and animal fat as well as chalk to draw slim figures with elongated limbs. The cross-hatching in paintings and straight line grids and concentric circles in rock carvings are also common to both our early people and those of Australia.’

Feeling justified about the intercontinental connection, Inka looks down and spears a last, now cold, morsel of cod, missing the proud grins on the faces of her parents and partner.

She isn’t wanting to take things further when Christian gleefully announces that Inka must now provide a link between ancient paintings and music.

‘Tell us about Hvittrask and Sibelius,’ he urges.

Reluctantly the story is told of Jean Sibelius discovering ancient rock paintings and engravings when staying with a friend in the town just 30Km from Helsinki. These are noticed by the famous composer when he glances upwards to admire geological forms in a lakeside cliff face. This discovery in 1911, she explains, is significant because they are the first works to be recognised as being from the Stone Age.

‘Absolutely true,’ exclaims Christian, looking towards his parents. ‘Would you believe it?’

Sensing the dinner table atmosphere must have warmed a little by now, Miro decides it is time to tell one of his jokes, selecting from the category of music, thinking it will appeal to his hosts.

‘Do you know I have a friend who is a pianist and I ask him if he plays Offenbach and he replies: Yes although not as much as I play Mozart!’

Family has heard it before and are not expected to laugh and his hosts look more bemused than amused, so Miro explains ‘You know, he thinks I am saying often … Bach!’

It still falls flat, but sticking to his belief that it is a good idea to have noise around the table he asks questions that require an answer, like ‘Maria can you tell me about the performances planned this year?’ and ‘Have university funding cuts affected your work Edvard?’

Chilled vispipuuro is served while cross-conversations develop about the state of the economy, preparedness for the journey to Australia and best ways to maintain contact. After coffee, Inka and her parents make an appropriate move to the lounge room allowing Christian to have private time with his parents. Inka makes fun by cupping her hand against the wall to eavesdrop. She, too, is emotional about leaving her family and gives her parents a joint hug. They plan to take the pair to the airport in the morning, from where Inka will phone her sisters as promised.

Christian enters to ask if they mind if he stays and has breakfast with his parents, who will take him to the airport. Of course they don’t mind.

‘See you at the Singapore Airlines check-in at seven,’ Inka says, then quickly thanks the Laakkonens for dinner.

On the drive to their hotel, Miro says it is no time to be negative but he has to say he was ‘offended about that Robert Kajanus rubbish.’

‘I’m over it,’ is Inka’s response.

‘And I think you read too much into things Miro. It may be just the way she says things. I didn’t see it as deliberately attacking Inka,’ adds Susanna. ‘And what about our daughter and Christian getting back at her with that tale they made up about Sibelius being a discoverer of Stone Age art. That was genius.’

‘No mother, it is true. I swear.’

~~~~

Wide awake at 3am, Christian reflects on the Sibelius discussion and hopes the Aaltos understand his mother does not deliberately wish to be rude or seem cold. He knows, however, that the warmth he feels from his mother does not touch everyone. Yes, she can be very particular, like the time she had him repeat the pronunciation of Sibelius as Sepaylius without the English emphasis on the second syllable, b. He was about six at the time and learning piano. The piece was Nar Ronnen Blommar, or When the Rowan Blossoms. The music will always be in his memory, as will his lesson that the Finnish do not have a hard b in their native language. Thoughts of those times as a child, sitting on the piano stool with his mother, lead to the evening when he looks up to the picture on the piano top, and asks about the meaning of words sewn with green thread into white cloth. He is told the three lines, Do Justly, Love Mercy, Walk Humbly, are from Amos in the Old Testament. Father enters and stands behind mother and son to hear a very interesting discussion. It begins with ‘Why did Amos say those words?’ and mother answering that they describe what our maker wants of us. Christian recalls saying Amos must have been very wise to have such thoughts, yet is puzzled by his mother’s response that it is the Lord speaking through Amos. After the lesson, the family takes a walk. On entering the park, Christian runs for 50m and lies on the ground with eyes closed and arms outstretched. When the parents catch up and Maria asks ‘What on Earth are you thinking Christian!?’ the answer, in a 20th Century robotic voice is, ‘I am not Christian. I am Amos. God gave me legs to walk but did not give me a brain to think’. Christian pictures his young self giggling about his antics and seeing through squinted eyes that his mother is not impressed while his father is finding it hard to hide his amusement. While it is a light-hearted moment, for Edvard there is also pleasure experiencing the intelligent, logical, mind of his offspring.

En route to the airport Christian is sitting in the front seat with his father, at the insistence of his mother. She sits in the back seat with one hand on the shoulder of the son she dearly loves. Time together before an extended period in Australia is running out yet it seems best spent in private thought. Then Maria whispers ‘We will miss you’ and Christian puts a hand backwards to sit over the gloved hand of his mother and again confirms ‘You know I will miss you both too.’ He says he’ll also miss the Finnish winters and asks if they have time to stop briefly at the end of Synebrychoff Park where there are spruces and pines. The young man peels off pinnate leaves, rubs them into his palms, puts his nose into his hands and deeply breathes in some of his favourite aromas of Finland. His parents know him well enough to appreciate the ritual and discuss whether Franz’s Bakery is open. Yes, from 6am, Edvard believes. The car pulls up outside the bakery and Edvard enters to be greeted by the ever-smiling Oona Franz who carefully places three freshly-baked cinnamon pulla buns into a cardboard tray.

‘Christian loves these,’ Oona remarks. ‘Even when he was a boy he’d pass his nose over one to enjoy the aroma before eating. Oh, I must say goodbye.’ She follows Edvard to the car and taps on Christian’s window. Pressing a button to wind it down, there is entry of a flow of cold air that contrasts comfortably with the yeasty warmth of bakery treats. He says he doubts he’ll survive in Australia without a Franz pulla.

‘So, you are leaving us?’ the cheery baker asks, knowing it is so.

‘Not forever,’ Christian responds as they slowly pull away and observe Oona in the rear vision mirror, waving from the footpath with her large white apron fluttering in the early morning breeze and spare hand anchoring her linen cap into a mop of grey hair.

‘Have my piece son,’ Maria says, handing her share of pulla over the seat. ‘You need it more than me. Don’t get it on your clothes.’

As they are carrying bags to the check-in counter a tall woman with aquiline features and short-cropped hair grabs their attention. It is Professor Hanni Niemenen.

‘Edvard, Maria - and one of my best students, Christian!’ she exclaims. ‘What a coincidence running into you. I’ve just said goodbye to my wife who is flying to Germany to see her family and now I have the opportunity to farewell you, too, Christian. You and Inka will have a great time in Australia I’m sure.’

There is a mood of needing to hurry, amid an exchange of pleasantries. As soon as the professor is out of earshot, Maria whispers ‘How ridiculous. A woman talking about her wife. And why does she dress like a man. Always in those suits. Sometimes with a tie no less.’

‘Come on mother, she is who she is,’ Christian says, frowning disapproval of the remarks. ‘She has always been good to me. I like her.’

Christian’s response makes his mother regret she made the comment and shows this by taking Christian’s arm, giving it a gentle squeeze and saying she is sorry for being on edge.

Maria may think she is overweight and shapeless, yet the last memory Christian has of her at the terminal is a very elegant woman dressed in a mandarin collared black coat with large buttons offset to her left side. Next to her is Edvard in grey trousers and a pullover under his fawn sports coat. Like the two excited offspring in the boarding line, Susanna and Miro are comfortable in their favourite tracksuits. It is what’s worn on faces, however, that draws Christian’s attention before he finally has to look away and walk on. The Aalto faces are clearly creasing only as joy will have it, while Edvard’s smile is restrained by sadness. Maria’s flawless skin allows the intrusion of a concerned frown as she fails to hold back tears.

2

Sydney February 2036

The stopover in Singapore provides an amazing colourful experience of Asia. While it is enjoyable it is also tiring due to the humidity. Between Singapore and Sydney, Inka and Christian manage a refreshing three or four hours sleep before being woken to fill in cards declaring what they are or are not bringing into Australia. They smile at each other and exchange excited kisses, knowing their adventure is now very real.

As aircraft wings slice through Sydney’s bright blue clear sky they peek across a row of passengers to catch a glimpse of the famous harbour bridge.

Inka’s eyes return to look into the face of the man she loves and is asked what she is thinking. She waits a few seconds before saying he looks so much like Maria. It is not an unwelcome remark but Christian pretends he is offended and reminds Inka she once told him he looked very much like a particular Hollywood actor.

‘That must have been a long, long time ago!’ Inka reacts, tracing a finger down his profile. ‘But