‘Admundsen.’ He held out his hand to me. ‘You can call me Johan. I work for the police in Tramsund.’
‘I’m Mikael.’
Johan was tall and had nicks on his throat from shaving. ‘Clean cut,’ Mum would call it. A couple of dark hairs were sticking out of his nose. ‘So, here we are,’ he said as he looked around. ‘I’ve seen bigger places.’
‘Two houses.’
‘No one else?’
‘There’s a house over on the other side of the island, but it’s been empty for a few years. It used to be Miss Augusta’s.’
Smoke curled hesitantly from Karl’s chimney. He had closed the curtains in his kitchen and living room.
‘Who lives there?’
‘Our neighbour,’ I said.
‘So that must be your house,’ he said, pointing to ours.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Does your neighbour have a name?’
‘Karl.’
‘Karl what?’
‘Just Karl.’
‘And is this Karl at home?’
‘Do you want to talk to him?’
‘Maybe in a little while.’
I looked at his papers. ‘Shouldn’t you be writing stuff down?’
‘Like what?’
He saw me look startled. ‘Writing stuff down comes later. I can remember everything for now. First things first: can you take me to see your mother?’
‘What about those two?’
‘They’ll be all right where they are.’ The man from the cabin was leaning against the bow and pouring coffee from a thermos flask into a plastic cup. The boy who was only allowed to hold the rope was strolling across the quay, kicking stones as if they were in his way.
‘Before we go back, would you like to take a little trip with us?’
‘Maybe,’ I said, though I really, really wanted to.
Mum came running toward us, her eyebrows two desperate little arcs. ‘Is there any news?’
Johan shook his head. ‘’Fraid not. I’m sorry about your husband.’ He held out his hand. ‘Admundsen. I’m in charge of the investigation. I’ve come to take care of the formalities for the missing-at-sea report, and I have a few questions to ask you.’
Without looking at him, Mum gave Johan a limp handshake and trudged back to the house. I followed behind her with Johan. I felt a sudden urge to hold his hand but luckily I stopped myself just in time. He saw me looking up at him and gave me a friendly nod.
‘Am I interrupting your meal?’ Johan pointed at the soup bowl.
‘That’s for Dad,’ I said.
‘Naturally.’
I didn’t understand what he meant, so I said, ‘Yes, naturally.’
Dad had taught me that you’re supposed to offer visitors something to drink, but nothing too nice or you might never get rid of them. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘That’s nice of you.’
‘There’s some coffee left,’ said Mum.
‘Coffee would be just the ticket.’
‘What do you take?’
‘Sugar.’
I nodded and walked over to the sink.
‘I can drink it without, too.’
‘You want sugar, you’ll get sugar,’ said Mum.
It was only when we had visitors from somewhere else that I noticed how different our words sounded. Outsiders spoke more forcefully, and their voices took a funny turn at the end of their sentences. Mum could talk like that, too. ‘Town talk’ Dad called it, and always gave her a kiss as soon as he’d said it cos he knew she didn’t like it. ‘I didn’t learn much from my mother, but at least she taught me to speak properly,’ she’d say, pushing Dad away, though she’d end up letting him kiss her neck anyway.
Johan sighed. ‘So… no news for the time being, it pains me to say.’
Mum stared straight at him.
‘It’s been forty-eight hours. The sea is a big place, Mrs Hammermann. But we’re doing our best. Everyone is hoping for a miracle or suchlike.’
‘Suchlike?’
‘The strangest things happen. You’d be surprised.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Sometimes people turn up out of nowhere. Things aren’t always what they seem.’
‘My son was there when it happened.’ She pointed at the sea. ‘That’s where my husband is.’ She’d slipped from her town accent back into her normal way of talking.
I put a mug of coffee on the table and fetched the sugar bowl from the cupboard. Johan flickered a faint smile at me and unfolded his papers.
‘Let’s hope for a miracle.’ He took a sip of coffee, even though it was still far too hot and he hadn’t put any sugar in it. ‘Right, then, we’ll start with the details.’ Like the man on the news, he began to read out what was on the paper. ‘Birk Hammermann, born 22 April 1963. Married to Dora Hammermann. That’s you.’ He nodded at Mum. ‘Missing since the evening before last. Your report came in at forty-six minutes past eight. The coastguard was notified at twelve minutes past nine, after which time the standard procedure for “person missing at sea” was initiated. Yesterday morning a fellow officer attempted to make a landing on the island in the coastguard helicopter but unfortunately this did not prove possible. Okay… And then we have your witness statement.’
Mum breathed heavily through her nose.
‘To enable us to obtain a full picture, could you tell me once again exactly what happened?’
‘You already know what happened.’
‘Please, tell us again,’ he said. ‘So we have the full picture. It’s standard procedure in cases like this.’
Mum snatched the papers from his hand and clutched them to her chest. ‘You’re giving up your search?’
‘May I have my forms back?’
‘What exactly are you doing?’
‘Everything in our power, Mrs Hammermann.’
‘And that is?’
‘Shipping has been notified. The coastguard has been conducting a search with two boats and a helicopter and a heat sensor. But due to the currents…’
Mum kicked the table leg, sending coffee spilling over the brim of the mug. ‘I insist you keep on searching.’
Johan got up, walked over to Mum, and carefully removed the crumpled papers from her hands. For a moment no one made a sound. ‘Your son is the last person to have seen him?’ Mum crossed her arms and held them high against her chest. Johan turned to me.
‘You were there with your father. What happened? Can you tell me?’
‘Maybe.’
He looked back at Mum. ‘May I speak to your son alone for a moment?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I