Raspberry Red

ENGLISH
EDITION
Raspberry Red
Tuula Pere • Georgia Stylou
W
ickWick

Raspberry Red
Story by Tuula Pere
Illustrations by Georgia Stylou
Layout by Peter Stone
English translation by Mirka Pohjanrinne
Edited in English (US) by Susan Korman
ISBN 978-952-325-855-6 (ePub)
ISBN 978-952-325-355-1 (Print)
First edition
Copyright © 2017 Wickwick Ltd
Published 2017 by Wickwick Ltd
Helsinki, Finland
Printed in EU
Originally published in Finland by Wickwick Ltd in 2017
Finnish “Vadelmanpunainen”, ISBN 978-952-325-354-4 (Print), ISBN 978-952-325-854-9 (ePub)
English (US) “Raspberry Red”, ISBN 978-952-325-355-1 (Print), ISBN 978-952-325-855-6 (ePub)
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written permission of the publisher Wickwick Ltd. The only exception is brief quotations in printed articles and
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ENGLISH
EDITION
Raspberry Red
Tuula Pere • Georgia Stylou
W
ickWick
Children’s Books from the Heart
1

It was a cold winter, the coldest in living memory. The windows
of Aino’s home were covered with ice flowers. Every now and
then, she and her friend Kerttu would climb onto a bench and
kneel there, pressing their hands and noses against the window.
Aino had a plan. “I will draw a picture of a heart here, so that Dad
can see I’ve been waiting for him by the window.”
The grown-ups seemed worried, and whenever that happened,
Aino felt upset, too. She noticed they were listening to the radio
news every day. She didn’t quite understand what all the talk was
about—getting prepared . . . the army . . . negotiations. All she
knew was that it couldn’t mean anything good.
For Aino, the hardest part of all was that her father was not at home.
2

3

4

Aino often recalled that one strange morning
some weeks back. Very early at dawn, Aino
had awakened. Her father was leaving for somewhere.
Wearing his winter jacket, he bent over
to stroke his daughter’s hair, telling her to go
back to sleep.
“Where are you going?” Aino asked.
“You don’t know the place,” her father murmured.
“When will you come back?”
“I don’t know for sure yet.”
“But you will come back, won’t you, Papa?” she kept on asking.
Aino’s father turned his face towards the window and let out a
deep sigh.
“I will come back as soon as I can. After all, this is where I belong—
right here with my little Aino.”
5

Almost all the other children’s fathers had left, too. Mothers and
grandparents took care of the everyday chores in the village,
and children helped with what they could manage.
Aino had learned many new things. I have something new to tell
Papa in my letter, she thought excitedly, now that she had learned
how to light a fire in the wood stove.
Aino’s family ran a village shop, and Aino tried to help her mother
the best she could. Even though she was not even in school yet,
she knew how to count the day’s cash.
In the evenings, Aino arranged all the coins and bills in their own
piles to count them. Her mother noted down everything carefully.
Mama was a very organized person and always kept the shop in
shipshape condition. Aino herself liked to straighten the shelves
of food packages and make sure that all the nails of
different sizes were in their right boxes.
6

7

8

The weather was getting colder day by day. Christmas was
drawing nearer. In front of the woodshed, Aino’s grandfather
chopped firewood, and Aino and Kerttu were making neat piles of
it in the shed.
“Whatever this winter brings us, at least we won’t be freezing,” her
grandfather said, defiantly continuing to chop the wood.
He wouldn’t let the little girls use the axe or the saw, no matter how
hard they pleaded.
“Why don’t you go and get the dry wood from the back and put it
on the sled? You can then take the wood to the kitchen.”
The girls did as they were told. They placed logs in a basket on the
sled. Helping one another, they managed to pull the sled across
the yard to the front door. Then they carried the basket into the
kitchen to Aino’s grandmother.
9

Christmas Eve was freezing cold. Aino’s grandparents had come
over to spend the evening with Aino and her mother.
“What’s it like for Papa this Christmas somewhere out there?” Aino
asked her grandfather.
“Who knows,” Grandfather replied with a sigh.
“But at least your father’s toes are warm,” Aino’s grandmother
chimed in. “Your mother and I sent him so many pairs of woolen
socks that he won’t be cold, that’s for sure.”
After the Christmas meal, Aino climbed on a bench to sit next to her
grandmother. To mark the special day, Grandmother was wearing
one of her better shawls. Aino pressed her cheek against the coarse
woolen cloth.
“I’d like to learn how to knit socks. Will you teach me how to knit
the heel?” she pleaded.
“Maybe it’s better to start with a scarf,” her grandmother
suggested.
10

11

The new year dawned just as cold as the old
year had ended. Children went out to play in
the snow while grown-ups kept warning them to stay
near the house.
Aino was confused. But it’s just as cold next to the house as
it is in the forest!
From the grown-ups’ talk, Aino finally realized they were
worried about something far more serious than the
frost. The war had come too close. They could all hear it
booming behind the snowy forests.
“We need to leave quickly,” Aino’s mother said one
day, after she had a long telephone call in the village
shop.
All the villagers would have to leave their homes
for safe places.
12

13

14

Aino’s grandfather went to spread the word around the village.
By the next morning, they would all have to get to the village
center and board a train. The villagers packed all night long. Mothers
dressed their children and wrapped up little bundles of food to
take with them. Cattle were led to the station along the snowy
roads, and horse sleighs and trucks were loaded with baggage and
personal belongings.
“I’m going to take my rag doll with me,” Aino said.
The rag doll was Aino’s beloved treasure. Her grandmother had
made the doll a beautiful raspberry red apron out of patches left
over from Aino’s Sunday dress.
15

Early in the frosty morning, Aino went out to the dark yard with
the rag doll under her arm. Her mother was still in the house
making some final arrangements. She’d just called out to Aino that
it was time for her to get into one of the trucks that had come to
pick them up. However, the girl had decided to make one more
visit to her playhouse that stood across the yard. There’d still be
time. After all, someone should check that everything was all right
there, too.
Aino was wrapped up in her thoughts as she bustled about the
playhouse. When she finally stopped, she realized something
terrible—the very last truck had just left! Horrified, she ran back
to the house, but her mother, too, had left and locked the door
behind her.
Aino’s heart beat fast. All I can do is run after the trucks and follow the
road to the station, she thought.
She hadn’t even made it to the road when she heard strange voices
from behind the house. In her felt shoes, she ran as fast and quietly
as she could. She ducked behind the playhouse.
16

17

From her hiding place, Aino could see two uniformed
strangers with guns. Never in her life had she been as
scared as now. The men spoke in a foreign language. One
man looked angry and kept turning around nervously, but
the other one just stood there peacefully.
To her horror, she noticed that her doll’s raspberry red apron
had fallen on the ground as she was running. There it was,
shining brightly on the white snow.
Just then the calm soldier turned his gaze to the playhouse.
He noticed the small footprints in the snow, which
led to the side of the playhouse.
18

19

20

Aino met the soldier’s eyes. For a moment the girl didn’t dare
even breathe. There was something familiar in the soldier’s
expression, something that made Aino think of her father.
The soldier lifted a finger to his mouth, signaling Aino to keep quiet.
Then he turned to say something to the cross-looking soldier and
gestured toward the house. The men thrust the door open.
The angry soldier stepped inside. But the calm soldier turned to
look at Aino once more. He pointed to the woods.
I must run now, she thought. That’s what the soldier means. If only
they stay in the house long enough.
21

That’s how Aino’s long journey away from home began. On the
road through the woods, not far from the station, she met her
grandfather. He had turned back to search for her. Together, they
rushed to the train, where the others already were.
“When can we go back home?” Aino kept asking her mother, who
was wiping away tears from her eyes.
Aino’s mother didn’t say a word, but only held her tightly in her
arms and gave her a sandwich. In the crowded train,
there were many people they knew, but it was still oddly
quiet. The grown-ups were talking among themselves
in lowered voices, occasionally looking out the train
window. Aino was tired, but it was hard to sleep in a
strange place. Eventually, she fell asleep with the rag doll
under her arm, nestling against Mama.
22

23

That winter, Aino had to get used to sleeping in many unfamiliar
places. Moving all the time was hard. The strangers they met
were helpful, but Aino often felt that her family was always in the
wrong place.
For many weeks, Aino, her mother, and her grandparents stayed
in a schoolroom, where they slept on mattresses on the floor.
Fortunately, Kerttu’s family was there, too.
The school kitchen handed out soup as they fed the children
attending classes in the schoolrooms next to theirs. The soup
was thin, but at least there was enough of it for everyone.
“This bread tastes funny,” Kerttu whispered to Aino.
“We shouldn’t complain about the food,” Aino replied. That’s what
her mother had taught her.
24

25

One day Aino and Kerttu’s families were taken from the school
to a lodge that was located on the grounds of a farmhouse.
It was cold, but Aino’s mother was pleased that she could now
cook her own food on the stove that stood in a corner of the room.
She unpacked and arranged the few family belongings they had
brought around their temporary home, gently stroking the fringes
of a familiar tablecloth.
“It’s almost like home,” Aino said admiringly.
As weeks and months passed by, the evacuees got to know the
family living in the main house. Sometimes they were even invited
to listen to the news on their radio. Aino didn’t quite understand
what was being said, but from the way the grown-ups were talking,
she gathered that her family might be able to return home soon.
26

27

28

Right before summer, Aino and Kerttu could finally go back
to their home village with their families. But the children
were shocked to see its state. Roads and bridges were ruined,
and worst of all, there was nothing but sooty remains left of
many of the houses. Aino’s home had burned down, too.
“We’ll build a new house soon,” the grown-ups consoled
her. “And your father will be here too to build it.”
Aino felt like crying and laughing at the same time. She
was sad about their burnt home but happy to know
that her father was coming back.
Sobbing, Aino ran across the yard to her playhouse.
At least it was still standing there, untouched. But
what was that on the clothesline? There, swaying in
the wind, was her doll’s raspberry red apron! Aino
took down the apron carefully and smoothed it
against her knee.
29

When the construction of their new house was well on its way,
Aino’s father finally returned. Her mother was cooking for the
volunteer workers, and the children were jumping up and down
with excitement. The village shop run by Aino’s family had been
reopened, and the villagers paid frequent visits there, even though
the shop had only a few items to sell.
“Come and see the color we’re painting our new home,” Aino’s
father called out to her from the scaffolds.
Aino was looking at the side of the house, lost in thought. Tears
filled her eyes.
“What’s wrong, dear girl?” Her father came down to take Aino in his
arms. “Don’t you like the color?”
“I’d like the house to be raspberry red.” She sniffled.
“Why on earth? Isn’t that quite an unusual color in this village?” her
father asked.
30

31

32

Aino asked her father to wait a minute. She went to pick up her
rag doll from the playhouse and showed him the raspberry red
apron it was wearing.
Then she told him about the foreign soldier and how she’d dropped
the apron. Papa wrapped his strong arms around Aino and held
her a long time without saying a word.
“I understand, Aino,” her father finally said quietly. “We’ll paint the
house that color. I don’t care if it’s the only raspberry red house in
the world.”
When the house was ready and painted, Aino thought it was the
prettiest house in the whole village. Her parents couldn’t have
agreed more.
33

Late one autumn, Aino’s father sets off on the road with the other
village men. Little Aino doesn’t quite understand why. During the
cold winter days, scary noises start to echo from the nearby forest.
The family is forced to leave their home, their own village shop, and
Aino’s playhouse. They leave for the train station in such a hurry that
Aino can hardly keep up with the others.
Near the playhouse, the eyes of the child and a foreign soldier meet.
When Aino escapes, her rag doll’s raspberry red apron is left behind
in the snow.
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