Åke Edwardson - Sail of Stone

“On your end. What is that racket?”

“Just a second,” Winter said, walking into the living room and turning the music off in the middle of “Consequences.” “It was a record,” he said into the phone when he came back.

She didn’t comment.

“So, what are you going to do now?” he asked.

“I’m… I’m going back to this medical center tomorrow and then there’s some paperwork and I hope to be able to fly home with Dad as soon as I can.”

“Yes.”

“He has to come home,” she said.

“Of course.”

There was a sudden whistle on the phone, like a wind through the line, which must have run across the North Sea, from Inverness to Aberdeen to Gothenburg. Aberdeen and Gothenburg were at exactly the same latitude on the map. Or maybe it was Donsö and Aberdeen.

“I just spoke with Erik,” she said.

“Where is he?” asked Winter.

“Out at sea,” she said. “They’re on the way down to Hanstholm with their catch.” He heard her blow her nose. “He’s coming right home after that. He’ll be there when I… we… arrive.”

“Good,” said Winter.

“I think something happened up here,” she said, suddenly and quickly. “Something that caused this. Something… awful.”

“I think so too,” said Winter.

“Something that has to do with Grandpa.”

“Yes. I think so too.”

He didn’t tell her about his visit to the elderly Algotsson siblings.

Angela came back with redder cheeks and damp hair. She smelled like blue autumn evening and salty wind and black mud and gasoline fumes, which together made up this city’s perfume. It was a blue evening. Vasaplatsen was a blue address. Kind of blue.

“I’ve thought about it,” she said, pulling off her long scarf.

“What do you say, then?”

“Well…”

“Is that a summary?”

“I don’t know if we can work things out with Elsa. If she wants to. If it will work.”

They had talked about letting Lotta have Elsa for a few days. His sister had nagged and nagged. Bim and Kristina had nagged. Maybe it could be worked out. He and Angela had done things without Elsa during these four years, and at those times Elsa had stayed with Lotta. It had worked. There were no grandparents in Gothenburg for Elsa, but Aunt Lotta was there, and her cousins Bim and Kristina.

“We’ve never gone abroad alone,” said Angela. “Without Elsa.”

“We can take different planes.”

“Is this something to joke about?”

I might not be joking, he thought.

“And of course Siv is expecting us.”

“Nueva Andalucía will always be there, and she will too,” said Winter.

“Don’t be too sure of that.”

“She can always move home,” said Winter.

“That’s not what I meant,” said Angela. Her voice seemed to change.

“Do you know something I don’t?” He pushed the chair back a few inches. “I’m talking to you as Dr. Hoffman now.”

“Nothing serious, from what I understand,” said Angela.

“Do you two keep secrets from me?”

“She’s a little tired, Erik. I’m sure that’s all.”

“Tired? Tired of what?”

“She’s not exactly young anymore,” said Angela.

“I don’t think it’s good to be in one-hundred-degree weather half the year,” he said.

“That’s mostly a question of drinking,” said Angela, “of getting liquids.”

“And there’s the next risk factor,” he said.

“I was talking about water,” Angela said, raising an eyebrow and smiling slightly.

“I was talking about gin,” he said.

“Gin and tonic,” said Angela, “don’t forget that water. But seriously, Erik, you know that she hardly drinks at all since Bengt passed away.”

“And her consumption before that?”

“It’s probably not a problem,” Angela said.

“Maybe we should ask her to come home for a while,” said Winter.

“Maybe now,” said Angela.

“You mean now, if we go over to Scotland?”

“Yes. But we have to talk to Lotta first. And Siv might not think it’s a good idea. And we have to talk to Elsa.”

Angela came back from the bathroom. Winter was staring straight up at the ceiling from the bed. He had undressed only halfway.

“You’ve never met Steve’s wife,” he said.

“So does she think this is a good idea?”

“I don’t know,” said Winter. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“For the same reason you just gave me, only the other way around.”

“Hmm.”

“I suspect that we’ll be left on our own quite a bit. And we don’t know each other. If you and Steve are going to investigate this strange story.”

“Just a few days, max,” said Winter. “Maybe not at all.”

“Where are we going to stay, then? On Steve’s farm?”

“Hell, no. There are nice hotels in Inverness. I have Steve’s word on that.”

“I want to see a few of the options.”

“Of course.” Winter lay on his side, facing her. “Steve’s sister works in Inverness too, you know, as a lawyer.”

“I’m sure she’ll be really happy to take care of us. Welcome to my world.”

“Exactly.”

“Erik. This can’t be solely on your terms.”

“Is it? I’m just trying to look on the plus side here. We’ll do things together and Steve and I might go off for a bit to… well, I don’t know. But suddenly I felt like we could see each other again and that we could do it all together. That everything was sort of falling into place.”

“Have you met his wife? Sarah?”

“No.”

“How old is she?”

“Exactly forty,” said Winter. “Like you.”

“Is this a vision of the future?” said the thirty-five-year-old Angela, tossing a pillow.

“We’re living in the future,” he said. “We’re on our way, ” he said, slinging a pillow in her direction; it intercepted her throw.

“I thought this whole story was about the past, ” she said, throwing the pillow back again, and Winter ducked and the pillow knocked over the alarm clock, which thudded onto the varnished pine floor.

“Now you’ve ruined the floor ,” Winter said, firing off his last pillow.

Angela seemed preoccupied by something, and she took it right in the face. Winter turned around to see what she was looking at.

“What are you doing ?” asked Elsa, who was standing in the door with the clock in her hands.

“I have to talk to her first,” Angela said as they were lying in bed. It was dim and quiet. “Steve’s wife. It’s important. I imagine she thinks so too.”

“Of course.”

“And then there’s Lotta and Siv and the-”

“I know. This is assuming that all the ifs disappear.”

“In which case, it’s not a bad idea,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said.

Light was coming in from the hall, where there was a nightlight under the table that the telephone was on. He could hear a soft whirring from the fridge.

“I have one more question,” she said.

“Yes?”

“This thing you’re trying to get some clarity about, what you’re going to do…” He saw her silhouette come closer. “It isn’t dangerous at all, right, Erik?”

The espresso was doubly useful. Winter could not sleep, and he could think. At three o’clock he slid out of bed and walked through the hall and looked in on Elsa, who was sleeping on her back with her eyes half open. He could tell because he was holding his face four inches from hers. He could barely hear her breathing, so he listened for a long time. At that moment Elsa let out a snore, only one, and turned onto her side, and Winter tiptoed out.

He sat down in the living room, in the dark, which would last for another several hours. The usual blue light came in through the window. The streetcars hadn’t yet begun to rumble by down there. He could hear the sound of a lost car on the way to some blue address. Suddenly he heard a cry from up by the kiosk at Vasaplatsen, which had a functionalist-style neon sign that glowed just as it had during the record years.