her shoes walked into the sea. The water was soon up to her knees. She seemed to be in shock as she took in all that dark water tugging at her shoes, growing wider with every step.
I tried to shine the torch in the direction she was looking. Any second now, Dad would surface, coughing and choking, and here she was, ready to grab hold of him and haul him up onto the beach. Any second now, he would emerge from the water. He had to. Especially now that Mum was here. We’d see his head above the waves, like a football floating toward us. ‘Look! Look over there,’ I’d shout, jumping onto Mum’s back and catching him in the torchlight. We’d wade further into the sea, put his arms around our shoulders the way they do in films, and help him ashore. After that he’d probably belt me one across the face, but I wouldn’t care. At least he’d be back.
‘Tell me.’ Mum gripped my chin between her thumb and forefinger. ‘Tell me what happened here.’
‘He was swimming, I think. That’s what it looked like. And all of a sudden he was underwater and further and further away.’
‘And what did you do?’
I fell silent.
‘Why didn’t you tell me right away?’
‘But I did tell you.’
She snatched the torch from my hands and we rounded the cove till we reached the rocks. We balanced on the boulders and tore open our hands on the barnacles. Normally she’d be nagging me to be careful up here, but now she kept climbing on ahead and calling out his name.
Suddenly I caught sight of something in a small inlet. A dark object was floating in the water a few feet below me, thumping and splashing. I wanted to jump in, but I wasn’t brave enough. I shouted to Mum a few yards up ahead. ‘I’ve found something!’
She slipped and dropped the torch. It rolled away but came to rest in a crevice between two rocks. She scrambled to her feet, picked up the torch, and lunged toward me. ‘Where? Where?’ Anxiously, she aimed the torch at the dark water beneath us. A tree trunk covered in seaweed was slamming into the rocks. ‘Oh Christ,’ she shouted. ‘Jesus fucking Christ.’
We clambered on. At the highest point she stopped and sent a beam of light skimming across the water. Her shouting had turned to pleading. I yelled out, ‘Dad-dad-daaaaad!’
Half walking, half running, we headed back home, torchlight bouncing over the path. I wanted to say something to help us catch our breath. Maybe Dad was already home. Maybe he’d taken another path. We’d probably just missed him along the way. Or maybe he’d swum right round the island, and now he was sitting at the kitchen table, wolfing down a bowl of soup.
The silence hit us in the face. Everything in the kitchen was just as we’d left it. The big pot of soup, his bowl, the spoon beside it. I almost forgot to breathe.
Mum moved like a restless animal that’s sensed a change in the weather. ‘Karl,’ she said. ‘I have to get Karl.’ The door handle rammed into the wall. Grains of plaster crumbled to the floor. I went to follow her, but she jabbed a pointed finger toward the kitchen. ‘Stay here, you.’
3
Now that I was alone, the cupboards around me seemed to grow taller. The bright kitchen light left dark specks floating in my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to look at anything, didn’t dare sit down. It felt like I was being stared at from all sides. I switched off the big light and then the light in the hood above the cooker. I waited till my eyes got used to the dark, and crept upstairs.
Still wearing my boots, swimming trunks, and Dad’s jumper, I hid under the blanket. My breathing was ragged. When I closed my eyes, a pale shape appeared. I could see gulls circling around me, terns sitting on the rocks or diving for fish, and all the while that same pale shape. I switched on the bedside lamp, but that only scared me more, crushing any doubt that I might not be awake. I turned the lamp off and the shape returned. Other things, too: the towel that seemed further from the sea, a hand that would not break the surface. The pale shape blurred, grew vaguer. I pressed my fingers against my eyes till all I could see were flashes of light.
It was like I’d accidentally held a burning candle too close to the curtains, and there was no putting out the fire. Like I’d dropped something and it had shattered, something I wasn’t allowed to touch. I wanted a hand to slap me hard enough and long enough to start up that constant whistling in my ear. Once I’d been punished, it would all be okay again. Done and dusted.
Somewhere outside I could hear the engine of Karl’s cutter starting up. Pressing my ear to the mattress, the drone became clearer, as if someone was scratching at the underside of my bed.
Karl would turn on the big searchlight on top of his cabin and point it at the beach and the rocky inlets. From the water he would scan all the places we had searched, in the hope that we’d missed something. He’d sail further from the beach, past the rocks where it’s too dangerous to swim, and then further out. Perhaps he’d sail right round the island and then go round again, just in case, sailing in ever increasing circles till the waves grew too wild and the sea too big. Then he’d turn the wheel, look at Mum and shake his head.
No, no, no. They would find Dad. He would wave to them. He’d have found my red ball, he’d been able to hang on to it all along. And Dad wouldn’t need any help from anyone. He’d climb aboard all by himself.
4
A mosquito was whining its way into my ear. I woke with a start and crushed it. Turning on the bedside lamp, I saw wings, blood, and legs stuck to my finger.
Light was coming from downstairs, hurried footsteps across the floor, talk from the kitchen. The net around my chest tightened again. I leapt out of bed and ran downstairs.
Mum was standing at the sink with her back to me, the hair on her neck spiky with sweat. She was on the phone. Catching sight of me in the doorway behind her, she jumped but kept on talking.
The coastguard, harbours, ferry companies, the fish-processing plant, she called them all. It was the same conversation every time. Birk Hammermann was missing. At sea. No, further west. West of Tramsund. Early that evening, a few hours ago. Swimming. In which direction? No, no idea. Looked everywhere. No, it’s a small island, no other place he could be. Impossible to get lost, that’s how small it is. Wait? No, why? He must be at sea. The water’s cold. Search now before it’s too late. She spelled his name. ‘B-I-R-K, and Hammermann with two Ns.’ As if that would help them recognize him at sea. Then Mum gave our telephone number and begged them to call the moment there was any news. Without saying goodbye, she’d break the connection and start punching in a new number.
I was still standing by the door. She pressed her bony hands against my cheeks, trying to squeeze an answer from my mouth. ‘Where is Birk? Where is he?’ All I could do was cry.
‘Tell me.’ She forced her fists harder into my face. ‘Stop your blubbering. Tell me where Dad is.’
We went out searching, again and again. Each time I had to point out where we’d been sitting, and exactly where he’d gone into the water. The light from the torch grew dimmer. Mum shouted to Karl out in his boat, but he couldn’t hear her over the din of his engine. He kept on sailing in circles, churning up the water. A gull squawked from time to time. Back in the kitchen, the phone calls began again.
Gradually everything around us began to glow dark blue. Morning came unnoticed.
5
A
