Frank Schatzing - The Swarm

They didn't speak while the boat was moving, and soon Johanson released the throttle and let the engine die. They were some distance from the house but the veranda lights reflected in the water as a rippling band of brightness. The silence was punctuated by soft splashes as fish darted up to seize insects. Johanson picked his way carefully across to Lund, with the half-empty wine bottle in one hand. 'If you lie back and look at the sky,' he said, 'the universe and everything in it will be yours.'

She looked at him, eyes glinting in the dark. 'Ever seen a shooting star from here?'

'Plenty.'

'Did you make a wish?'

I'm not enough of a romantic,' he said, and squeezed in beside her. 'I just enjoyed the view.'

Lund giggled. 'You don't believe in such things, then?'

'Do you?'

'Of course not!'

'You're not the type for flowers either. Kare will have his work cut out with you. A stability analysis for subsea construction would be the most romantic present anyone could give you.'

Lund gazed at him. Then she lay down, and her jumper rode up to reveal a taut abdomen. 'Do you mean that?'

Johanson propped himself up on his elbow. 'No, not really.'

'You think I'm unromantic.'

'I think you've never stopped to think what romance is about.'

Their eyes met.

And lingered.

His fingers were already in her hair, combing through the long blonde strands.

'Maybe you could show me,' she murmured. She wrapped an arm round his neck, eyes closed.

Kiss her. Now.

Neither of them moved. They were locked in position, as if they were waiting for a sign.

What's wrong? thought Johanson. Why isn't it working? He could feel the warmth of Lund's body and he breathed in her scent – but he felt like an intruder.

'It's not happening,' said Lund.

Johanson felt as though he'd been thrown into the lake's cold water. Something had been extinguished. His ardour dispersed, giving way to relief 'You're right,' he said.

They disentangled themselves reluctantly. Johanson saw a question in her eyes that was probably mirrored in his: have we spoilt what we had? 'Are you all right?' he asked.

Lund didn't reply. He sat down in front of her, with his back against the side of the boat, and offered her the bottle. 'Good friends like us,' he said, 'should never be lovers.'

It was a cliché, but it had the right effect. She giggled, grabbed the bottle and took a swig. Then she laughed. She put her hand to her mouth to stifle it, but noisy laughter spilled between her fingers, and Johanson joined in.

'Phew,' she said. 'Are you angry with me?'

'No. What about you?'

'No- it's just. . .' She hesitated. 'I don't get it. On the Thorvaldson that night in your cabin, if I'd stayed a moment longer something could have happened, but now…'

He took the bottle from her and drank some wine. 'No,' he said. 'It would have been like tonight.'

'But why?'

'Because you love him.'

Lund wrapped her arms around her knees. 'Kare?'

'Who else?'

For a long time she stared silently into space. 'I thought I could get away from him.' She paused, then went on, 'You and I were always on the verge of something happening. Neither of us wanted anything serious so we were perfectly suited… But I never thought, it has to happen now. I wasn't in love with you. I didn't want to be in love. And then I met Kare and I knew I was…'

'In love.'

'I couldn't focus on my job, my mind was always elsewhere – and that's just not me.'

'So you thought you'd cash in your chips before things got out of hand.'

'Then you are angry with me!'

'I'm not angry. I was never in love with you either.' He thought for a moment. 'I wanted you – but only really since you started seeing Kare. It dented my pride…' He laughed. 'There's a wonderful film, Moonstruck , with Cher and Nicolas Cage. Someone asks, "Why do men chase women?" And the answer comes, "Maybe it's because they fear death." Why am I telling you this?'

'Because it's all about fear – fear of being alone, fear of never being asked and, worst of all, the fear of having a choice and making the wrong one. You and I could have an affair, but with Kare… With Kare, it would be much more than that. I knew it from the start. When you find yourself wanting someone you don't even know, whatever the price. But their life is part of the deal, and you have to take that too – so you get nervous.'

'It might be a mistake.'

She nodded.

'Have you ever been in a serious relationship?' he asked.

'Once,' she said, 'a long time ago.'

'What happened?'

'He finished with me, and I was a snivelling wreck.'

'And then?'

She rested her chin on her hands. Sitting there in the moonlight, brow furrowed, she was utterly beautiful, but Johanson didn't feel a hint of regret about the way things had worked out. 'I was always the one who ended it,' she said.

'An avenging angel, then.'

'Don't be ridiculous. Mostly they got on my nerves – too slow, too sweet, too stupid. Sometimes I ran away to make sure I escaped before I. . .'

'So you're afraid of building a house in case a storm destroys it.'

'Maybe.' She frowned. 'But there's another way of looking at it. You build the house, then knock it down before anyone else can.'

Somewhere a cricket was chirping and another answered from the other side of the lake.

'Well, you almost succeeded,' said Johanson. 'If we'd slept together, you could have dumped him. Did you really think you could fool yourself like that?'

'I told myself I'd be better off having an affair with you than throwing myself into a relationship that might stifle me. Sleeping with you would have confirmed it.'

'So, you'd have screwed your way to safety?'

'No.' She glared at him. 'I was attracted to you, believe it or not. You weren't just there to help me escape. I didn't just-'

'It's OK.' Johanson made a dismissive gesture. 'You're in love.'

'Yes,' she said sullenly.

'Don't sound so grudging. Say it again.'

'Yes!'

'That's better.' He grinned. 'And now that we've turned you inside out and upside-down, let's drink to Kare.'

She gave him a lopsided grin.

'Still not sure?'

'Yes and no.'

Johanson passed the bottle from one hand to the other. 'I tore a house down once, a long time ago. The people were still inside. They both got hurt, but eventually it passed – for one of them, at least. I still haven't decided whether it was right.'

'Who was the other?' asked Lund.

'My wife.'

'You were married?'

'Yes.'

'You never said.'

'We're divorced.'

'Why?'

'That's just it. There was no real reason. No major dramas, no crockery throwing. Just the feeling that things were closing in. I was scared… of becoming dependent. I could see us starting a family. Soon there'd be children in the house and a dog in the yard, and I'd have to take responsibility.

'And now?'

'There are times when I see it as the only real mistake I've made.' He stared into the water. Eventually he straightened and raised the bottle. 'Now for a toast! Whatever you want to do, go ahead and do it.'

'But I still don't know,' she whispered.

TO JOHANSON'S ASTONISHMENT they spent the whole weekend together by the lake. After their failed attempt at romance, he'd imagined she'd want to leave first thing in the morning, but in fact the air had cleared. Their flirtation was over. So, they went for walks, talked, laughed and forgot about the outside world with its universities, oil rigs and worms – and Johanson cooked the best Bolognese of his life.

On Sunday evening they drove home. Johanson dropped Lund at her place, then went on to his own. As he stepped into his house in Kirkegata Street, he was struck by the difference between solitude and loneliness, but the feeling soon passed. He left it in the hallway: anxieties and melancholy were allowed that far but no further.