Signe shook her head. “I had nothing to do with Jonny’s death. I have no idea what happened to him. I swear.”
Nora didn’t know what to think. Had her Signe killed two people? Auntie Signe, whom she had known since she was a little girl? Her extra grandmother.
Signe had turned and started down the steps. “It’s getting dark. I don’t suppose you’ve got any lights on that little boat of yours?” she said.
Nora shook her head, incapable of speech. She was so cold that her teeth were chattering. After a couple of minutes she forced herself to get to her feet and cautiously began to make her way down the worn stone steps. Signe had already reached the second landing.
Nora passed the blind passageway. She was moving slowly so as not to slip. She could hardly see a thing, and the little flashlight wasn’t much use.
Then she heard a door close at the bottom of the steps.
“Signe, are you there?” she called out into the darkness, increasing her speed.
Suddenly she stumbled and fell down the last few steps. She was unable to save herself in the blackness and landed headfirst on the hard stone floor with a sickening thud. She was vaguely aware of Signe’s muffled voice through the door.
“I’m so sorry, Nora, but there’s something I have to do. I’ll make sure someone comes to find you tomorrow.”
Nora sank down into the darkness. The last thing she heard was the echo of Signe’s footsteps disappearing into the night.
CHAPTER 73
When Nora regained consciousness she was enveloped in pitch darkness. She wondered how long she had been out; she had no way of telling whether it was minutes or hours.
She sensed where the door was and made an effort to get up. She felt dizzy and nauseous. She got to her knees and managed to crawl to the door. She tried to open it, but it wouldn’t move.
She was locked inside the lighthouse.
Tears came to her eyes, and she bit her lip hard.
Don’t cry, she told herself. Don’t cry. She had to think clearly. How was she going to get out of here?
The nausea made its presence felt again, but she somehow managed to suppress the urge to vomit. Her entire body was shaking, but she couldn’t decide whether it was because of the fall or because her blood sugar was dropping.
The numbness in her lips and tongue suggested the latter, as did the trembling. It was a sure sign of hypoglycemia—dangerously low blood sugar. Desperately she searched her memory: when had she taken her insulin? It must have been around quarter to nine in the evening, and she had taken a higher dose. This was perfectly reasonable if the insulin was then matched by a substantial intake of food. But now the insulin could not be used to break down the sugar in a sudden influx of carbohydrates. Instead, it would consume the sugars already in the body, sugars that had already been used much more quickly than usual in climbing all those steps in the lighthouse. If she didn’t take in more sugar soon, her brain would suffer from an excess of lactic acid. Without sugar, she would quickly fall into a coma.
The next stage was death.
Nora was all too well aware of what would happen. First came the trembling and a sense of weakness, then sweating, racing heart, shaking, and blurred vision. She would have difficulty concentrating. As her body’s blood sugar level dropped, she would feel drowsy, then sleepy, and then she would lose consciousness. She would fall into a coma, which would lead to death. In a short time her body would give up the struggle.
It probably wouldn’t be an unpleasant death, Nora thought. But she didn’t want to die. Not now, not like this. Alone and locked in on Grönskär.
She forced herself not to think about the children; if she did she would just start crying.
She didn’t have much time. If it was after midnight, she only had minutes before she lost consciousness. If only she had something to eat.
She usually had glucose tablets in her pocket, but she hadn’t bothered to bring anything because she was only going to be away for a short time. She could have kicked herself. Had she done anything right this evening?
Where was the flashlight? She crawled around, trying to find it in the darkness. Perhaps she could use it to signal someone? Anyone who had spent a lot of time at sea knew the SOS signal by heart. Three short, three long, three short. With the help of the flashlight she would be able to let someone know where she was.
She ran her hands over the floor. At last. There it was. She pressed the button with trembling fingers.
Nothing happened.
She examined the flashlight as best she could in the darkness. The glass was broken, and she cut her finger. She brought the flashlight up to her ear and shook it to see if she could hear if the bulb was broken. It didn’t sound like it was, but there was still no light.
Tears sprang to her eyes again. There must be a way to let the outside world know where she was. It occurred to her that if she could find her phone, she would be able to call for help. Perhaps she hadn’t searched carefully enough the first time. What if it was somewhere inside the lighthouse after all?
She crawled along, feeling her way. Methodically, a few inches at a time.
Still no phone.
Breathless, she made her way up to the next level and crawled around the walls. Fumbled in the blind passageway, felt her way across every step with her fingers. No phone.
On all fours, she dragged herself up to the landing from which the narrow wrought-iron staircase led up to the lantern room. She opened the door to the walkway to let in some light, but it didn’t help much. She sank down on the floor.
No one knew where she was.
She could no longer stop the tears. She was sobbing now; she couldn’t help thinking about the boys, even though that made her cry even harder.
How could she have been so careless?
Why had she dropped her phone? Why had she let Signe come with her? Why hadn’t she told anyone where she was going?
She curled up in the fetal position on the hard stone floor. She could hear nothing but her own terrified, irregular breathing.
She tried to use her arms and upper body to induce a sense of calm so she could think, but her thoughts simply ran away with her.
She could see herself lying dead on the floor, abandoned and forgotten.
She was so frightened.
The darkness seemed to be even more dense now. The lighthouses at Svängen and Revengegrundet had begun to flash at regular intervals.
Like a heartbeat.
CHAPTER 74
Nora looked at her watch. It was difficult to make out the time in the darkness; it seemed to be after midnight, but it was hard to say.
She tried to calm her breathing to prevent the panic from bubbling up. Forced herself not to give in to her shaking body. She was the only person who could do anything about this situation. She had to pull herself together; there was no other way.
She decided to go up to the lantern room—she would have the best overview from there. Perhaps someone had come back to the island and might be able to help her. She peered out into the darkness, looking for any signs of life in the houses below.