The Dead Of Summer

GOTSKA SANDÖN, 21 JULY 1985

AS THE TWO sisters walked around Kyrkudden on Gotska Sandön and saw the waters of Franska Bukten ahead of them, they felt like explorers who had just come ashore on a deserted island.

There was no sign of any human habitation as far as the eye could see. The shoreline stretched out for several kilometres, making a soft curve of fine-grained sand all the way out to Tärnudden on the other side. Even though it was still before noon, the heat was already intense; the sun glittered on the water, and the only living creatures to be seen were a few black-backed seagulls strutting about on the beach. Some distance from shore and higher up was a belt of short-shafted reeds, and beyond them began a lowland pine forest. It would be hard to get much farther away from civilization.

They stopped for a moment to catch their breath. Their rucksacks were heavy, and their feet hurt after walking for three hours along the uneven shore, which alternated between sand and stones. They had left behind their campsite on the other side of the island, where people could pitch their tents or rent one of the few cabins available to tourists.

Oleg had been walking around in an elated state ever since they had come ashore on the island several days earlier. Gotska Sandön was more beautiful and more amazing than any of them could have imagined. They had seen the place where Oleg’s great-grandfather had drowned when the Russian ship, the Vsadnik, had sunk in a storm on an August night in 1864. They had visited the cemetery and admired the Russian cannons that were still on the beach called Franska Bukten. It was the girls’ favourite beach, and they had been given permission to spend the night there under open skies. Pitching a tent was not allowed.

They started making camp by laying out their sleeping bags in the middle of the beach and setting up a windbreak, even though there was only a light breeze. The weather forecast promised beautiful summer weather for the next few days, and almost no wind at all. One of their rucksacks was functioning as an insulated bag containing their dinner, which consisted of roast beef and potato salad.

After they’d set up camp, they took off their clothes and ran naked into the sea. The water was invigorating and crystal clear.

They spent the whole day swimming, reading and playing beach tennis. Every once in a while someone would walk past, but they could see from far away if anyone was coming, so they had plenty of time to put their clothes back on. Towards evening, they sat on the sand looking at the water. They had smuggled along a bottle of wine, which they shared.

‘Cheers,’ said Tanya, raising her paper cup. ‘Oh, how cosy it is here. I wish we could stay here all day tomorrow too.’

Vera tapped her cup against Tanya’s.

‘Me too. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a more gorgeous place.’

‘Or more isolated. It’s like a dream. Somehow unreal. I could stay here my whole life.’

They gazed out at the sea. Just at that moment, a sailboat rounded the point.