Itsy Bitsy (6 page)

He held her hand, a happiness so enormous that it hurt bubbling away inside him.

We’re together. Cecilia and me. We’re together now.

Gåvasten (February 2004)

‘What a day. It’s incredible.’

Cecilia and Anders were standing by the window in the living room, looking towards the bay. The ice was covered with virgin snow, and the sun shone from a cloudless sky, eating away the contours of the inlet, the jetty and the shore like an over-exposed photograph.

‘Let me see, let me see!’

Maja came racing in from the kitchen, and Anders barely had time to open his mouth to warn her for the hundredth time. Then her thick socks skidded on the polished wooden floor and she landed flat on her back at his feet.

In a reflex action he bent down to comfort her, but Maja immediately rolled to one side and wriggled back a metre. Tears sprang to her eyes. She screamed, ‘Stupid stupid things!’ then tore off the socks and hurled them at the wall. Then she got up and ran back into the kitchen.

Anders and Cecilia looked at each other and sighed. They could hear Maja rummaging in the kitchen drawers.

Whose turn?

Cecilia winked and took on the task of intervening before Maja tipped the entire contents of the drawers on to the floor, or broke something. She went into the kitchen and Anders turned back to the glorious day.

‘No, Maja! Wait!’

Maja came running in from the kitchen with a pair of scissors in her hand, Cecilia right behind her. Before either of them could stop her, Maja had grabbed one of the socks and started hacking at it.

Anders seized her arms and managed to get her to drop the scissors. Her whole body was trembling with rage as she kicked out at the sock. ‘I hate you, you stupid thing!’

Anders hugged her, holding her flailing arms fast with his own. ‘Maja, that doesn’t help. The socks don’t understand.’

Maja was a quivering bundle in his arms. ‘I hate them!’

‘I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to…’

‘I’m going to chop them up and burn them!’

‘Calm down, little one. Calm down.’

Anders sat down on the sofa without loosening his grip on Maja. Cecilia sat down next to him. They spoke softly and stroked her hair and the blue velour tracksuit that was the only thing she would consent to wear. After a couple of minutes she stopped shaking, her heartbeat slowed and she relaxed in Anders’ arms. He said, ‘You can wear shoes instead, if you like.’

‘I want to go barefoot.’

‘You can’t. The floor’s too cold.’

‘Barefoot.’

Cecilia shrugged her shoulders. Maja rarely felt cold. Even when the temperature was close to freezing she would run around outdoors in a T-shirt unless somebody said something to her. She slept eight hours a night at the most, and yet it was rare for her to fall ill or feel tired.

Cecilia held Maja’s feet in her hands and blew on them. ‘Well, you need to put some socks on now. We’re going out.’

Maja sat upright on Anders’ knee. ‘Where to?’

Cecilia pointed out of the window, towards the north-east.

‘To Gåvasten. To the lighthouse.’

Maja leaned forward, screwing her eyes up into the sunlight. The old stone lighthouse was visible only as a vague rift in the sky where it met the horizon. It was about two kilometres away, and they had been waiting for a day like this so they could make the trip they had been talking about all winter.

Maja’s shoulders drooped. ‘Are we going to
walk
all that way?’

‘We thought we might ski,’ said Anders, and the words were hardly out of his mouth before Maja shot off his knee and raced into the hallway. She had been given her first pair of skis on her sixth birthday two weeks earlier, and on only her second practice outing she had done really well. She had a natural talent. Two minutes later she was back, dressed in her snowsuit, hat and gloves.

‘Come on then!’

They ignored Maja’s protests and made a picnic to eat out by the lighthouse. Coffee, chocolate and sandwiches. Then they gathered up their skiing equipment and went down to the inlet. The light was dazzling. There had been no wind for several days, and fresh snow still covered the branches of the trees. Wherever you turned there was whiteness, blinding whiteness. It was impossible to imagine that there could be warmth and greenness anywhere. Even from space the earth must look like a perfectly formed snowball, white and round.

It took a while to get Maja’s skis on because she was so excited she couldn’t stand still. Once the bindings were tight and the straps of the poles wrapped around her hands, she immediately slid out on to the ice, shouting, ‘Look at me! Look at me!’

For once they didn’t need to worry as she set off on her own. Despite the fact that she had travelled a hundred metres from the jetty before Anders and Cecilia had even got their skis on, she was clearly visible as a bright red patch in the middle of all the whiteness.

It was different in the city. Maja had run off on her own several times because she had seen something or thought of something, and they had joked about fitting her with a GPS transmitter. Not that it was all that much of a joke, really; they had given it serious consideration, but it felt like overkill.

They set off. Far out on the ice Maja fell over, but she was back on her feet in no time and whizzing along. Anders and Cecilia followed in her tracks. When they had travelled about fifty metres, Anders turned around.

Their house, generally known as the Shack, lay at the edge of the point. Plumes of smoke were rising from both chimneys. Two pine trees, weighed down with snow, framed it on either side. It was a complete dump, badly built and poorly maintained, but right now, from this distance, it looked like a little paradise.

Anders struggled to get his old Nikon out of his rucksack, zoomed in and took a picture. Something to remind him when he was cursing the ill-fitting walls and sloping floors. That it was a little paradise. As well. He put the camera away and followed his family.

After a couple of minutes he caught up with them. He had intended to lead the way, making it easier for Maja and Cecilia as they followed in his tracks through the thick covering of snow, but Maja refused. She was the guide and group leader, and they were to follow her.

The ice was nothing to worry about; this was confirmed when they heard a roaring sound from the direction of the mainland. A car was heading for Domarö from the steamboat jetty in Nåten. From this distance it was no bigger than a fly. Maja stopped and stared at it.

‘Is that a
real
car?’

‘Yes,’ said Anders. ‘What else would it be?’

Maja didn’t reply, but carried on looking at the car, which was on its way towards the point on the opposite side of the island.

‘Who’s driving?’

‘Holidaymakers, probably. Wanting to go for a swim.’

Maja grinned and looked at him with that supercilious expression she sometimes wore, and said, ‘Daddy. Wanting to go for a swim?
Now?
’

Anders and Cecilia laughed. The car disappeared behind the point, leaving a thin cloud of whirling snow behind it.

‘People from Stockholm, then. I expect they’re on their way to their summer cottage to…look at the ice, or something.’

Maja seemed satisfied with this response, and turned to set off again. Then she thought of something and turned back.

‘Why aren’t we people from Stockholm, then? We live in Stockholm, after all.’

Cecilia said, ‘You and I are from Stockholm, but Daddy isn’t, not really, because his daddy wasn’t from Stockholm.’

‘My grandad?’

‘Yes.’

‘What was he, then?’

Cecilia made a vague movement with her lips and looked at Anders, who said, ‘An old fisherman.’

Maja nodded and set off towards the lighthouse, which had now become an extended blot against the bright sky.

Simon was standing on the veranda, tracking their progress through his telescope. He saw them stop and talk, saw them set off again with Maja in the lead. He smiled to himself. That was just typical of Maja. Trying so hard, working, wearing herself out. The child had a dynamo inside her, a little motor spinning away, constantly charging itself. The energy had to go somewhere.

In everything but blood he was her great-grandfather, just as he was grandfather to Anders. He had known them both before their eyes were able to focus on his face. He was an outsider, absorbed into this family that was not his own.

While he was filling the coffee machine he glanced up, from habit, at Anna-Greta’s house. He knew she had gone over to mainland to do some shopping and wouldn’t be back until the afternoon but he looked anyway, and caught himself missing her already.

More than forty years together, and he still longed to see her. That was a good thing. Perhaps it had something to do with living apart. At first he had been hurt when Anna-Greta said yes, she loved him, but no, she had no intention of moving in with him. He could carry on renting his house from her as before, and if the situation didn’t suit him it was unfortunate, but so be it.

He had gone along with it, hoping that things would change in time. They did, but not in the way he had thought. Instead he was the one who changed his point of view and after about ten years he’d come to the conclusion that everything worked extremely well. The rent he paid was token. It hadn’t gone up by a single krona since he first moved into the house in 1955. One thousand kronor per year. They would spend the money on a trip on the ferry to Finland, eating and drinking nothing but the best. It was a small ritual.

They weren’t married—Anna-Greta felt that her marriage to Erik had been one too many—but to all intents and purposes, Simon was her husband and the children’s grandfather and great-grandfather.

He went out on to the glassed-in veranda and picked up the telescope. They were still ploughing on out there, they had almost reached the lighthouse now. They had stopped, and he couldn’t make out what they were doing. He was trying to adjust the focus so that he could see what they were up to, when the outside door opened.

‘Hello there!’

Simon smiled. It had taken him a few years to get used to the fact that those who lived here all year round simply came stomping into each other’s houses without knocking. In the beginning he would knock on people’s doors and be rewarded with a long wait. When the door finally opened, the look on the resident’s face clearly said,
Why are you standing out here putting on airs and graces? Come inside.

Boots were removed, there was the sound of throat-clearing in the porch, and Elof Lundberg walked in, wearing his cap as usual, and nodded to Simon.

‘Good morning to you, sir.’

‘And good morning to you.’

Elof licked his lips, which were dry from the cold, and looked around the room. What he saw didn’t appear to provide him with anything worth commenting on, and he said, ‘So. Any news?’

Simon shook his head. ‘No. The usual aches and pains.’

Sometimes he found it amusing, but today he wasn’t in the mood to stand there exchanging pleasantries with Elof until they got down to business, so he decided to flout convention. ‘Is it the drill you’re after?’ he asked.

Elof’s eyes narrowed as if this was a completely unexpected question that needed some consideration, but after thinking for a couple of seconds he said, ‘The drill. Yes. I thought I might…’ he nodded in the direction of the ice, ‘…go out and see if I have any luck.’

‘It’s under the steps as usual.’

The last time they had had a really icy winter, three years ago, Elof had come to borrow Simon’s ice drill a couple of times a week. Simon had said Elof was welcome to come and fetch it whenever he needed it and just put it back when he was finished. Elof had made noises indicating agreement, and had continued to come in and ask every single time.

On this occasion, his mission seemingly accomplished, Elof showed no signs of leaving. Perhaps he wanted to get warm before he set off. He nodded at the telescope in Simon’s hand.

‘So what are you looking at?’

Simon pointed towards the lighthouse. ‘The family’s out on the ice, I’m just…keeping an eye on them.’

Elof looked out of the window, but of course he couldn’t see anything. ‘Whereabouts are they?’

‘Out by the lighthouse.’

‘Out by the lighthouse?’

‘Yes.’

Elof was still looking out of the window, his jaws working as if he were chewing on something invisible. Simon wanted an end to this before Elof caught the aroma of the coffee and invited himself to stay for a cup. He wanted to be left in peace. Elof pursed his lips and suddenly asked, ‘Has Anders got one of those…mobile phones?’

‘Yes, why?’

Elof was breathing heavily as he gazed out of the window, looking for something it was impossible to see. Simon couldn’t understand what he was getting at, so he asked again.

‘Why do you want to know if he’s got a mobile?’

There was silence for a few seconds. Simon could hear the last of the water bubbling through the coffee machine. Elof turned away from the window and gazed at the floor as he said, ‘I think you should ring him and tell him…he ought to come home now.’

‘Why?’

Silence fell once again, and Simon could smell the aroma of the coffee drifting from the kitchen. Elof didn’t seem to notice. He sighed and said, ‘The ice can be unsafe out there.’

Simon snorted. ‘But it’s half a metre thick right across the bay!’

Elof sighed even more deeply and studied the pattern on the carpet. Then he did something unexpected. He raised his head, looked Simon straight in the eye and said, ‘Do as I say. Ring the boy. And tell him to gather up his family. And go home.’

Simon looked into Elof’s watery blue eyes. Their expression was deadly serious. Simon didn’t understand what this was all about, but he had never encountered this level of seriousness, this kind of authority from Elof before. Something passed between them that he couldn’t put his finger on, but it made him go over to the phone and key in the number of Anders’ mobile.

‘Hi, this is Anders. Leave a message after the tone.’