Ludwig Tacker for his part no doubt regarded him as an acquisition to the family of doubtful value. But he never said anything, of course. The Tacker family dominated by means of silence that ate into people like acid.
Kristina Tacker’s mother was like the figurines on the shelves in her daughter’s flat. If Fru Martina Tacker were to trip over a rug or lose her balance on a polished floor she would not simply hurt herself, she would shatter like a china sculpture.
Thirty-four persons were assembled round the dinner table on Christmas Day, 1914. Tobiasson-Svartman had been placed between one of Kristina Tacker’s sisters and her grandmother. He was more or less in the middle of one of the long sides of the table, and still had a long way to go before reaching one of the sought-after places close to his father-in-law. The elderly woman on his right was asthmatic and had difficulty in breathing. She was also hard of hearing. She did not reply when he spoke to her; he could not make up his mind if that was because she had not heard, or because she did not consider it worth the trouble of responding. Now and then she would shout to somebody on the other side of the table, usually a line from a poem by Snoilsky, expecting to hear the next line in return.
Nor did he manage to conduct a conversation with his sister-in-law, who was deeply religious. She was lost inside herself, and hardly touched her food.
It was like being cast away on a barren reef.
He drank a lot of wine in order to survive. He looked at his wife, who was sitting rather higher up on the opposite side. She was wearing a mint-green dress, and her hair was beautifully arranged. Their eyes would occasionally meet, bashfully, as if they were not acquainted.
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After the dessert was served, an excellent lemon cheese, Ludwig Tacker delivered his traditional Christmas speech. He had a slightly muffled, gravelly voice, his face was bright red despite the fact that he never drank much, and he put a lot of force into his speech, the writing of which Tobiasson-Svartman suspected had been his principal occupation during the past year. He lived for the speeches he gave to the assembled family. Every year he laid down the truths that everyone must acknowledge. It was like a speech from the throne, read out for obedient subjects.
This year his topic was the Great War. Tobiasson-Svartman was not surprised to discover that his father-in-law was firmly pro-German. But Ludwig Tacker did not simply express his support for Germany in the war. He poured torrents of hatred on the English and French, and the Russian Empire was dismissed as ‘a rotten ship that is kept afloat only by all the dead bodies in the hold’.
I have a father-in-law who really knows how to hate, he thought. What will happen if he discovers that I do not share his enmities?
During the speech he kept an eye on his wife. He realised that he had no idea about her views on the war. The speech faded out of his consciousness. I don’t know my wife, he thought. I share a bed and a dinner table with an unknown woman. In the far distance he could see Sara Fredrika. She came gliding towards him, the dinner table had vanished, he was back on Halsskär.
He did not return to the dinner table until toasts were proposed at the end of the speech, and coffee was about to be served in the drawing room.
Chapter 82
The Christmas holidays passed. On 27 December Tobiasson-Svartman arrived for the meeting on Skeppsholmen as agreed. He waited impatiently in the cold corridor to be allowed in and receive his instructions. But no adjutant came to collect him.
The door was suddenly flung open and Vice Admiral H: son-Lydenfeldt invited him in. He was alone in the room. The vice admiral sat and gestured to his visitor to do the same.
‘At short notice the naval high command has decided that no more depth soundings will be made this winter. All ships will be required to guard our coastline and to escort our merchant navy convoys. The decision was made by Admiral Lundin and confirmed by Naval Minister Boström late last night.’
The vice admiral looked hard at him.
‘Have I made myself clear?’
‘Yes.’
‘One could argue, of course, that a very few weeks spent boring holes through the ice would hardly have a significant effect on our fleet. But a decision has been made.’
The vice admiral pointed at an envelope lying on the table.
‘I am the first person to regret that depth sounding has been postponed indefinitely, even though I personally would prefer not to have to be out on the ice boring holes in early January. Am I right?’
‘Of course.’
‘Meanwhile you will be at the beck and call of Naval Headquarters. There seems to be no shortage of tasks needing to be carried out.’
The vice admiral placed one hand on his desk to indicate that the meeting was at an end. He stood up, Tobiasson-Svartman saluted and left the room.
Chapter 83
Only when he was passing the Grand Hotel did he pause and open the envelope.
The message was short. At 9 a.m. the next morning he was to present himself at the Swedish Navy’s special section for navigation channels, buoyage and harbours. The order was signed by Lieutenant Kaspersson on behalf of a section head at the Naval Fortifications Centre.
He walked to the edge of the quay. Some white archipelago boats were docked there, frozen in and deserted.
He noticed that he was trembling. The counter-order, cancelling his mission, had been wholly unexpected. In connection with the task he was to perform at Gamlebyviken he had drawn up a plan that he had kept secret, even from himself. He would return to Halsskär and meet Sara Fredrika. Nothing else meant anything, only that had any real significance.
He went into the Grand Hotel and found a table in the café. It was still early, there were not many customers and the waiters had nothing to do. He ordered coffee and a cognac.
‘It’s cold outside,’ the waiter said. ‘Cognac is made for days like today.’
Tobiasson-Svartman managed to suppress an overwhelming urge to stand up and hit the waiter. He could not cope with being talked to. The decision had been a sort of declaration of war, he must resist it, make a new plan to replace the one that had just been foiled.
He stayed in the café for several hours. He was drunk by the time he left. But he knew what he was going to do.
When he left he gave the waiter a large tip.
Chapter 84
He said nothing to Kristina Tacker about the cancellation of his mission. She asked how long he thought he would need to stay at Gamlebyviken and when he would be leaving. He told her that it could take several weeks, but hardly longer than to the end of January, and that she should think in terms of thirty days when she did his packing for him.
That evening and night he sat hunched over his sea charts and notebooks with the new stretch of navigable channel at Sandsänkan. By five in the morning he had finished, and lay down on the sofa in his study with his naval overcoat over him.
Twice during the night Kristina Tacker had got up and peeped through his study door. He did not even notice that she was there. Her fragrances did not get through to him.
Chapter 85