The ferry was nearly bursting. It was the height of the summer season, and the tourists had completely taken over. Families carrying packs of Wet-Naps, retirees with their picnic baskets, people heading to their summer cottages with one load after another.
Kicki had never seen so many IKEA bags. It seemed as if the entire population of the archipelago had decided to move all their possessions in the big blue bags. In the luggage area, potted plants shared space with overfilled sacks from the discount food store, bicycles, and strollers.
With some difficulty she managed to find a seat out on deck. There was a slight breeze, but compared with the oppressive heat inside, it was sheer paradise. She flopped down with a sigh and lit a cigarette. She gazed out over Stavsnäs, the central point for traffic serving the southern islands. The white boats were lined up by the dock. Over by the gas station, a long line snaked toward the kiosk selling hot dogs and ice cream. Her stomach growled, and she wished she had bought something to eat.
In her peripheral vision she noticed yet another packed red bus pulling in at the stop; the passengers hurried toward the boats as soon as they got off.
To think that there were so many people heading for the archipelago at the same time!
When the boat docked at Sandhamn, it took forever for people to disembark. Slowly the line of passengers edged onto the deck and down the gangplank. Kicki handed over her ticket and hesitantly stepped ashore among the local residents who were meeting friends and relatives off the boat.
In one corner of the pier, a truck was busy moving cases of food and alcohol piled high on top of one another. There were people everywhere, and beyond the jetty the harbor was busy with yachts and motorboats. Countless children raced around clutching ice cream cones. The whole island seemed to be buzzing with life.
Kicki went over to the bulletin board at the back of the pier and stood there for a moment to get her bearings. She realized the harbor was lovely now that she had time to look at it properly. Directly in front of her was a long two-story building painted Falu red, with a clothes shop on the left-hand side. The sign on the awning said “Sommarboden—Everything You Need for Sunny Summer Days!”
To the left she saw the promenade, leading to the Royal Swedish Yacht Club’s clubhouse. She had read about it in one of the gossip magazines; they had held a huge ball there after some sailing competition. It had been attended by the king and queen, she seemed to remember, and Princess Victoria, too.
Between the pier and the clubhouse she could see rows of boats of all types and sizes packed close together. To the right, the harbor curved in a semicircle, lined with shops and restaurants. The far end was dominated by a large yellow building that proclaimed it was the Sandhamn Inn; various signs indicated that it offered a bar, a restaurant, takeout, and outdoor seating.
Kicki decided to find somewhere to stay the night. She went over to the kiosk to buy cigarettes. As the girl handed over the pack of Princes, Kicki asked where she might find a room that wasn’t too expensive. She didn’t want to pay a ridiculous amount for only one night.
“The Mission House,” the blond teenager said. “They’re a bed-and-breakfast. It’s OK. And the breakfast is great. Otherwise it’s really hard to find somewhere that doesn’t cost a fortune. The Seglarhotell costs the same as hotels in the middle of Stockholm. Although it’s really nice, of course.”
Kicki smiled at the girl, who leaned out and pointed toward the grocery store Kicki had noticed earlier.
“It’s about five hundred yards; it’ll only take you five minutes to get there,” she said.
Kicki picked up her bag and set off. Her sandals were immediately covered. There was sand and gravel everywhere on this island.
CHAPTER 13
“Get a move on, Henrik!” Nora yelled up the stairs. “They’ll be here soon, and we haven’t even scrubbed the potatoes yet!”
It was Friday evening, and they had invited two local couples to dinner, along with Thomas. Nora had wondered whether to invite a single female as well, but somehow it didn’t feel right. Since Thomas and his wife, Pernilla, had divorced during the winter, unable to find their way back to each other after the loss of their daughter, Thomas hadn’t so much as looked at another woman, let alone attempted a new relationship.
Nora shuddered as she thought about Thomas and little Emily. It had been dreadful. One minute they had a wonderful three-month-old girl; the next minute she was gone.
Emily had passed away in her sleep.
When Pernilla woke up in the morning, her breasts were sore because she hadn’t fed the baby during the night. The child had been lying there cold and lifeless in the Moses basket by her side. Both parents had been devastated, but it was worse for Pernilla because she felt so guilty.
“I was so tired,” she had sobbed. “I slept right through instead of taking care of her. If I’d woken up, she might still be alive. A good mother would have sensed something was wrong.”
In the end, her self-reproach and guilt had broken the marriage. Thomas sought solace in his work, but Pernilla was unable to find any comfort. The separation had been inevitable.
Nora had tried to provide support as best she could, but it was impossible to get through to Thomas. He became silent, introverted. He withdrew to Harö and cut himself off.
It wasn’t until the beginning of the summer that Nora began to feel she was getting back the old Thomas, her childhood friend with his tousled blond hair. But now she could see fine lines around the corners of his eyes, and his hair was peppered with gray. There was a shadow in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
“What do you want me to do?”
Henrik had crept up behind her. Nora turned and smiled. He was in a good mood; this was going to be a great evening. She pushed aside thoughts of her in-laws, who were due to arrive on Monday.
“Well, you could boil the potatoes, smoke the perch, pick some salad leaves, and make some vanilla sauce to go with the rhubarb crumble. Is that OK?” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and handed him the bag of potatoes and a brush. “Oh, and if you could repaint the roof and build a fence before our guests arrive, that would be great!”
Henrik laughed. He was a very sociable person and enjoyed having guests. Nobody could mingle at a cocktail party like Henrik. When they had first met, Nora had been impressed by this aspect of his character; she was much less outgoing. Henrik was always ready to accept an invitation or invite friends over in the spur of the moment. As the only child of a diplomat, he was comfortable participating in a wide range of events and switching on the charm.
Nora, who preferred cozy evenings at home, had gradually begun to protest. She didn’t mind the odd guest, but sometimes it was nice just to be alone as a family, particularly when the children were small and she was worn out from feeding them and getting up during the night; all she wanted to do was curl up on the sofa in front of the TV.
But Henrik had often insisted. What could be nicer than spending time with friends, he used to say. We can invite a few people. Just one or two. Come on. It’s no big deal.
That made Nora feel dull and boring, a real party pooper. There was no point in discussing it with him; he just wouldn’t listen. So she usually tried to make an effort in order to keep the peace, and she generally enjoyed the company in the end.