‘It’s what I thought, too,’ I said.
‘Last thing I need is someone poking their nose in my business. Uniforms telling me what I can and can’t catch, how many of this, how many of that. If fish don’t want to wind up dead, they should steer clear of my net. The sea’s big enough.’
‘Now they’re looking in the currents,’ I said.
‘That’s all they can do.’
‘That’s what Johan said, too.’
‘Who?’
‘The policeman.’
‘Aha.’
Mum’s jaw clamped tight, as if she was chewing on something she couldn’t bite through.
‘Never mind,’ said Karl and scratched the corner of his eye. ‘I’ll be off, then.’
The clock on the cooker said nearly eight o’clock. Time for Dad to listen to the news on the radio. Now that Mum and I were alone, the kitchen seemed smaller, as if there wasn’t enough room for both of us to breathe. I retreated into the big armchair with my atlas and ran my finger along the dark-blue arrows in the water.
Twilight shrank the world outside. The evening gave me a kind of hope. If only we could fall asleep, something unexpected might happen. If not while we slept, then tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow! I could feel it tingling in my chest already. ‘Tomorrow’ sounded like a day that would bring something new. ‘Today’ didn’t, but that was all right, cos today was nearly over.
‘Where are you going?’
I had laid the atlas aside and was on my way to the toilet.
‘Don’t leave,’ she said.
‘I’m only going for a pee.’
‘Stay here. Please.’ She sank into a chair and pulled me to her. Her hug squeezed the breath out of me. ‘With me,’ she whispered. ‘Stay here with me.’ Her thumb stroked the hollow of my neck till it began to burn.
10
Behind our house was a gently sloping field. To reach it, I had to squeeze through a tangled hedge of brambles. Thorns pulled loops in my trousers and scratched my hands. The knee-high grass beyond was wet and yellowish. It hid moss-covered boulders, speckly like mould.
From the highest point in the field, you could look out over the whole island. Between the trees in front of me was the top of our chimney. Next to it, the quay. Further to the right was the gutter that ran along the roof of Karl’s house, and the rusty shed where he kept his catch. The sea was smooth all the way to the horizon.
‘Dad!’ I shouted. ‘DAD!’ My voice sounded hoarse.
‘DA-AAD!’ I looked through my binoculars.
‘DAAAAAAAAAAD!’
Our little beach was sheltered by a row of broad-shouldered spruce trees that grew on the spot where a holiday cottage once stood. Now, an overgrown hedge and scorched, mossy foundations were all that was left. It had burned down before Mum and Dad and I came to live here. In among the tall weeds I had once found a rusty metal ashtray and a knife without a handle. I gave the ashtray to Dad. He thought it was funny that the only thing left of a burned-down cottage was an ashtray. I didn’t say anything about the knife.
The back of the island started to the right of the burned-down cottage. We called our side the front cos it was where we lived. There were other islands over our horizon, and Dad told me we all belonged together in the same group. Beyond that was the mainland, but the weird thing was that it was an island, too.
If you sailed from the back of the island and kept going long enough, you’d end up at the South Pole. The only building on that side of the island was Miss Augusta’s house. We still called it her house, though it wasn’t really anybody’s anymore.
I walked down the slope and wormed my way backward through the brambles with my hands in my pockets and my hood up. The path I came out on led to Miss Augusta’s house. Hardly anyone walked down this way anymore, and the grass had grown over bits of the path. With every step I tried to flatten it down as much as I could.
Gulls were hanging in the air around the house. They screeched to warn one another I was coming. I knew they wouldn’t peck me, but I kept my head down anyway. Some of them were lined up along the gutter. One had a mussel in its beak and was trying to crack it open. To be on the safe side, I held my binoculars by the cord so I could swing them like a wrecking ball if any of the gulls ventured too close.
Dad used to call me a cowardy-custard. To him, the gulls were sky sailors. ‘Those birds glide for hours on the wind without moving a muscle, and eat what other animals leave lying around. Magnificent, lazy creatures. They live without wasting any energy at all.’
‘They’re screechy and scary.’
‘You’d better check your underpants, Mikael. There might be a brown stripe down the middle.’
‘Is not.’
‘Just look at that beak. Mouth, hands, and a weapon, all in one.’
All I could see was the nasty hook at the end of it.
‘Go on… look.’
I didn’t want to get any closer.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘They look so evil.’
‘It’s people you need to be afraid of, not animals. As long as you can get your hands around their neck, you’ve nothing to fear.’
‘But my hands fit around your neck, don’t they?’
‘And are you afraid of me?’
I shook my head.
‘Well then.’
I still didn’t want anything to do with gulls, especially when I was on my own.
I peered at the house through my binoculars. Weeds were sprouting from the gutter. The wooden door was so warped, it refused to close. The handle slammed ominously against the boards that covered the outside wall.
‘DAD!’
No answer.
‘DAD!’ If he’d been hiding in there, he would surely have heard me by now. I picked up a stone and threw it onto the roof. A few gulls took off in fright, others just flapped their wings. ‘ARE YOU THERE?’
I stood still. Without Dad, I didn’t have the nerve to get any closer, never mind go inside. Slates blown from the roof lay broken in the tall grass. The windows were clouded with sea salt.
Dad had gone over to clean the windows of the empty house once, ladder balanced on his right shoulder and a steaming bucket of soapy water in his other hand. It was one of the chores he used to do for Miss Augusta when she was still alive, and he felt odd about not doing it anymore. ‘Soft bugger,’ Mum scoffed.
‘Just sprucing things up a bit,’ said Dad. ‘Where’s the harm in that?’
I wanted to help, and he let me carry the bucket. By the time we reached her house, half the water had slopped over the rim.
Dad wiped down the windows with the shammy and I sat on a rock and watched him.
Afterward, we walked through the house to make sure everything inside was as it should be. I wasn’t allowed to touch anything, but Dad was. Dust had gathered into fluff balls under the chairs and settee, and in the corners of the living room. A gull had found its way inside and couldn’t find its way out again. We scared it as much as it scared us.
The longer Miss Augusta was dead, the more empty spaces appeared in her cupboards. When Mum thought Dad had something to make up for, he would go over and look for a present to give her. She’d never say exactly what it was he’d done wrong.
The