The Lost Boy

FJÄLLBACKA 1870

‘How does it taste?’ Emelie asked at every meal, even though she knew that the response would always be the same. A grunt from Karl and a grunt from Julian. The fare was a bit monotonous on the island, but she had no control over that. Most of what she put on the table came from the two men’s fishing expeditions, usually mackerel and plaice. And since she still hadn’t been allowed to accompany them on their trips to Fjällbacka, which occurred a couple of times each month, the grocery purchases hadn’t been entirely satisfactory.

‘So, Karl, I was wondering …’ Emelie put down her knife and fork without even tasting the food. ‘Couldn’t I come with you to Fjällbacka this time? I haven’t seen anyone else in so long, and it would be a joy to spend a bit of time on the mainland.’

‘That’s out of the question.’ Julian wore that stern expression that he always did whenever he looked at her.

‘I was talking to Karl,’ she calmly replied, but she could feel her heart skip a beat. This was the first time she had ever dared talk back to him.

Julian snorted and glanced at Karl.

‘Did you hear that? Do I really have to put up with that sort of talk from a woman?’

Karl looked tired as he stared at his plate.

‘We can’t take you with us,’ he said, and it was clear that he considered the topic closed. But the solitude had begun to wear on Emelie’s nerves, and she couldn’t stop herself.

‘Why not? There’s plenty of room in the boat, and I could take care of the grocery shopping so that we’d have something besides mackerel and potatoes day in and day out. Wouldn’t that be nice?’

Julian’s face had turned white with rage. He kept his eyes fixed on Karl, who abruptly got up from the table.

‘You’re not coming with us, and that’s my final word.’ He put on his jacket and went out into the gusty weather. The door slammed behind him.

This was how it had been ever since the night when she had touched Karl in bed in an attempt to draw him into a more intimate relationship. His indifference had been replaced with an attitude that was more like Julian’s open disdain. Karl radiated an animosity towards her that she could neither understand nor change. Had she really done something so terrible? Was she that repulsive and disgusting? Emelie tried to recall what it had felt like when he asked her to marry him. The proposal had come unexpectedly, but there did seem to be some warmth and longing in his voice. Or had she imagined that because of her own feelings and dreams? She looked down at the table.

‘Now see what you’ve done.’ Julian tossed his knife and fork on to his plate with a clatter.

‘Why do you treat me like this, when I’ve never done you any harm?’ Emelie didn’t know how she’d summoned up the courage, but it felt as if she simply had to speak the words that had been weighing on her so heavily.

Julian didn’t reply. He merely stared at her with that dark expression of his. Then he stood up and followed Karl out of the house. A few minutes later she saw the boat leave the dock as they headed for Fjällbacka. In truth, she knew full well why she wasn’t allowed to go along. The presence of a wife wasn’t wanted at Abela’s tavern on Florö, which was where the two men obviously ended up on their trips into town. They’d be back before dusk; they always returned in time to work their shifts in the lighthouse.

A cupboard door slammed shut, and Emelie jumped. She didn’t think it was intended to scare her, but it had. The front door was closed, so a gust of wind couldn’t be the cause of it. She stood very still, listening and looking around. No one else was in the house. When she shut everything else from her mind, she could make out a distant, muted sound. The sound of someone breathing, light and regular, although it was impossible to say from which direction the sound was coming. It was almost as if the house itself were breathing. Emelie tried to work out what this unknown person might want from her. But suddenly the sound vanished and the house was quiet once again.

Emelie’s thoughts returned to Karl and Julian, and with a heavy heart she set about washing the dishes. Though she was a good housekeeper, nothing she did seemed satisfactory. She felt terribly lonely. At the same time, she wasn’t alone. It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore their presence on the island. Emelie heard things, sensed things, just as she had a moment ago. And she was no longer afraid. They didn’t wish to harm her.

As she leaned over the dishes, with tears dripping into the dirty water, she felt a hand on her shoulder. A comforting hand. She didn’t turn around. If she did, she knew she’d find no one there.