Lisa looked at me.
‘Tell me more,’ she said. ‘Show me what else there is to see.’
I rejoined her and pointed to a couple of stones in the grass that might also have been part of the foundations of a house once upon a time.
‘I come out here sometimes and sit and look at those stones. Occasionally I get the feeling that they are moving with immense slowness. I think perhaps they are on their way back to the place from which they originally came. This skerry is in the process of reverting to what it used to be, before the people arrived.’
Lisa nodded, her expression pensive. I carried on talking although I didn’t have much more to add.
‘The last inhabitant of Vrångskär was an old woman; I think her name was Sofia Karlsson. She had come out here as a young serving girl, and had married one of the last resident fishermen. When he died, she stayed here on her own. That was in the 1830s. Many of the people who lived here had moved closer to the copper mine that had opened further out into the archipelago. I don’t suppose life was any easier there, but perhaps it was less lonely. Some emigrated to America, and others simply disappeared. Apart from Sofia. No one knows how she coped all by herself during those last years; her final winter must have been one long episode of protracted suffering. She was almost ninety years old. One day she slipped on an icy rock and broke her leg. She managed to drag herself back to her house, but of course there was no way she could contact anyone. Some time later a seal hunter turned up and found her dead in her bed in the bitterly cold house. She was buried in the churchyard on the mainland. No one has lived on Vrångskär since then.’
‘And the stones began to move back? That’s a lovely thought.’
Lisa rose to her feet and wandered around the site of the former settlement. From time to time she vanished behind a projecting rock, before reappearing. I stayed where I was, watching her. Perhaps I was like the people who used to live here, while she belonged to the new age?
We unpacked our picnic and ate without saying very much. Occasionally our hands accidentally touched as we reached for the same slice of bread or a hard-boiled egg.
After lunch we climbed to the highest point on the island. The wind blowing off the sea was stronger up there, but I didn’t think there was any reason for us to set off home right away.
‘An archaeologist once found a bear’s tooth up here,’ I said. ‘No one has ever come up with a sensible explanation as to how it got here. The odd wolf might have been spotted on the islands further in, but there are no tales of bears.’
‘Where’s the tooth now?’
‘I don’t know; in the vicarage, perhaps? There were a number of priests serving the archipelago who were interested in nature.’
‘Who’s the priest now?’
The question took me by surprise.
‘I never go to church. I have no idea who the priest is.’
‘I’ll ring up and find out. I want to see the bear’s tooth.’
We started to clamber down; I warned Lisa about the slippery moss, but I was the one who stumbled, not her. When we reached the boat I took her rucksack to put it on board but I wasn’t looking where I was going; I lost my footing on a rock at the water’s edge and fell in head first. I was soaked to the skin. I’m used to taking a dip every morning when it’s cold, but naturally I dry myself immediately afterwards. This was quite different. I started to shiver as soon as the water penetrated my clothes, and of course I didn’t have anything to change into.
I was embarrassed, but Lisa was worried in case I had hurt myself.
‘I’ll survive,’ I said. ‘But I think we’d better get back. I’ll call in at home and put on some dry clothes before I take you to the mainland.’
I shook with cold the whole way. I went as fast as I could. Lisa offered me her jacket, but I didn’t want it.
I moored at the jetty and hurried up to the caravan while Lisa made her way to the site of the fire. I stripped off, dropping my wet clothes on the floor, and rubbed myself dry with one of the dirty Chinese shirts. I didn’t have much to change into, but I got dressed and put on the raincoat I had rescued from the burning house.
Lisa was standing by the ruins, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet because she was cold.
‘Sorry about the sooty raincoat,’ I said. ‘It’s what I pulled on when I ran out of the house.’
She looked at me, then gently stroked my cheek. It was so unexpected that I recoiled, as if I thought she was going to hit me. I fell over, and both of us burst out laughing. She reached out and helped me up.
‘I’m not dangerous,’ she said.
‘And I’m not in the habit of falling over.’
I almost embraced her, pulled her close, but there was a hurdle within me that I just couldn’t get over.
We went back down to the jetty and the boathouse.
‘I’m going to write about Vrångskär,’ Lisa said. ‘I’m going to ask my dopey editor to give me the space for a series of articles.’
‘I’d be more than happy to take you out there again.’
‘I’ll bring a camera next time. It will need to be soon; I don’t want to get caught out by the snow.’
‘You’ve got a month before you need to worry about that. At least.’
We eased away from the jetty. Every time I pulled the cord I was prepared for the engine not to start, but Jansson had done a good job.
Out in the bay I spotted Jansson and his boat in the distance. He seemed to have a passenger on board. He was heading in my direction, but no doubt his destination was one of the islands further north, Olsö or Farsholmen.
I moored by the petrol pumps and walked Lisa Modin to her car. There was an angry little note tucked under one of the windscreen wipers: ‘Don’t fucking park here!’ She looked at me in horror as she passed it to me.
‘Who’s written this?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe someone from the harbourmaster’s office. But it’s nothing to worry about.’
I screwed up the note and shoved it in my pocket. She threw her rucksack on the back seat and got behind the wheel.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll be in touch very soon.’
I gave her my number and she put it in her phone. She was smiling as she closed the door and turned the key. She shot up the hill at high speed. The fact that she was in such a hurry made me jealous; who was waiting for her?
I went over to the litter bin outside the chandlery and threw away the message. When I turned to go back to my boat, I saw another person in the otherwise deserted harbour. It was Oslovski. She was hobbling along as if she had injured her foot or leg. I really, really hoped she wasn’t going to ask me to check her blood pressure. Right now all I wanted to do was go home and get warm in my caravan.
Oslovski was very pale and looked tired.
We stopped and shook hands; I noticed that her hand was sweaty, which was unusual. I had a strong feeling that she had changed in some way, although I couldn’t put my finger on how. There was something about her usually clear gaze that I didn’t recognise.
We exchanged the standard pleasantries about the weather and our health. I asked if she had been away, but she merely smiled and didn’t answer.
At that moment I realised she was afraid. I didn’t know why, but I was immediately convinced that I was right. She was standing there in front of me, but at the same time she was moving away. Something in the background was frightening her.
‘I’m on my way home,’ I said. ‘But if you want me to check your blood pressure, we can go up to the car.’