Free White Hunger (Chance Encounter Series) by Aki Ollikainen

blind eye because his silence has been bought. The children try to hide from the old woman behind their mother. When Hakmanni comes outside, the old woman continues her journey. She seizes the sleeve of the first person she meets and points at Marja.
    Hakmanni looks at Marja gravely and slips a piece of bread into her hand. He advises her to make for the official almshouse on the other side of the town. There she will get bread in exchange for work.
    ‘If they’ve got any bread,’ Hakmanni goes on.
    ‘What do they make there?’
    ‘Coffins.’
    A mirthless chuckle escapes Marja. Hakmanni, too, realizes the grotesqueness of the situation. An expression somewhere between a grimace and an apologetic smile spreads over his face.
    ‘Put your trust in Jesus,’ Hakmanni whispers, and goes off to lead the woman with the four children towards the almshouse.
     
    At the corner of the graveyard, Marja is joined by the boy from the previous night. He is taller than Marja, almost by a head, though he is still a lad.
    ‘Oh, it’s you. I didn’t get to say thank you.’
    ‘Bah, I felt like hitting him anyway. I just didn’t get the chance before.’
    ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘Ruuni.’
    ‘What kind of a name is that? You won’t find that in the parish register,’ Marja laughs.
    ‘Are any of us still in the register, the one they call the names from at the pearly gates? Doesn’t matter what name you go begging under. The one the minister gave me has no meaning; the shepherd hasn’t made much of an effort to call after his lamb. I named myself and now I’m my own master.’
    ‘Don’t you fear for your soul, as Hakmanni said you should?’
    ‘Believe me, the minister knowing your name won’t save you either. Would you share the crust of bread the sheep gave you?’ Ruuni asks.
    ‘I thought I’d give it to Juho.’
    ‘Well, will Juho share?’ Ruuni asks, bending towards the boy.
    Marja laughs and digs the bread out of her pocket. Ruuni tries to amuse Juho by pretending to tear off his own thumb, but Juho stares gravely at the wiggling digit, not seeing anything funny there. They sit down on the silo steps and Marja breaks the piece of bread in three.
    ‘Real bark. He’s a fox, not a man, that excuse for a minister,’ Ruuni says admiringly, and sucks the bread, sighing.
    ‘Are you going to the almshouse to make coffins?’ Marja asks, and Ruuni shakes his head.
    ‘You know, I won’t ask your name. At the end of this road, the one we’re on, there is a mass grave. And there’ll be no minister holding a roll call there. When the dead climb out on Judgement Day, they won’t know whose bones they’ve gathered up. A fine fellow named Viljaami may well be carrying a common-or-garden Jussi’s shinbone. So is he now Viljaami or Jussi? The Devil will have to draw lots to see who goes up and who down. We’re part of the same heap of bones, the lot of us. In fact, we’re already in one big mass grave. How can you tell the difference between us when we all look like skeletons?’
    Juho giggles, which puts Marja in a good mood.
    ‘Some of the landowners have got a bit of meat on their bones,’ she points out.
    ‘They get to Heaven, too; they know to murmur “God Almighty”, even the thin ones. The rest of us are more likely to call on Satan, where the rich folk call God’s name. Not Vaasko, though. He cursed at farmhands and maids in the Devil’s name, but Satan wouldn’t lumber himself with the nuisance: Vaasko would be such a taskmaster, even in Hell, that the Devil would begin feeling sorry for the tortured souls. So even old Vaasko will sneak in through the pearly gates.’
    The boy’s stories amuse Marja. He has listened carefully to the talk of old men, and taught himself the swagger of the hired hands at big houses. The ones who sit at dances, hands clasped behind their heads, peaked caps over their eyes, jawing about masters, mistresses and the arses of maids. The next morning, they stand cap in