Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 12 - Yearning

‘I must wear out more dresses than anyone in the North,’ Villemo thought. ‘I wonder just how many dresses I’ve managed to ruin during my escapades?’

Only this one she didn’t want to sacrifice. Her mother had sewed it with great care, specifically intended for her trip to Denmark.

She bit her lip and rummaged in the bundle she had brought with her when she left the others at the boat for Norway.

“You may keep the cape,” she told the woman. “And a number of other things that I’ll put here. But I’m afraid I’ll have to take the dress and a few other things with me in the bundle on my back while I swim, because I can’t walk about in these boy’s clothes all the time.”

That made sense to them. Since the weather was calm and it was bound to be even calmer up on land on the Swedish side, the skipper suggested that she tie the bundle on her head instead. That way she might even have dry clothes by the time she reached land.

‘If she reaches land,’ the skipper thought.

Villemo thanked him for the idea and thought that she would probably look ridiculous, but there was nothing to be done about that.

Anything for Dominic! No, she couldn’t keep on saying that forever. Dominic was safe, after all. And there was certainly no guarantee that he would be overjoyed at seeing her now that he was in war service.

But she didn’t care about that. She wanted that farewell embrace she was entitled to, and then she would leave him in peace. Did she honestly believe that herself? Maybe. She had always had a remarkable talent for pulling the wool over her eyes. She had never learned to separate fact from fiction.

What was she supposed have done in Denmark when he wasn’t there? That was the main reason for this reckless endeavour of hers and it was something she repeated to herself over and over. But in her heart she knew perfectly well what she wanted ...

Only a few boats were out at sea. Mostly fishing boats, first Danish then Swedish ones but they kept at quite a distance from them.

The skipper moved as close to Sweden as he dared. Nevertheless, Villemo thought that the distance to land seemed frightfully big when he announced that he wouldn’t sail any further.

‘Help! Did I really say that I would be willing to swim as far as would be necessary?’

She had paid the fisherman and his wife – paid more than what they would normally make in one whole month – so she couldn’t put it off any longer. They couldn’t stay still in the same spot for so long and they had already run quite a risk for her sake.

‘Good God,’ Villemo thought as she closed her eyes. ‘Now I need your help once again.’

“Thank you so much for your help,” she said to the fisherman’s family. “And pray for me. I think I may need it.”

All three of them nodded solemnly. The son saw his extra clothes disappear in the waves together with the girl who was lowered into the water from the low gunwale.

The water wasn’t as cold as she had feared. Now she was grateful that Elistrand was situated down by the small lake in the Parish of Graastensholm, because she and Irmelin and Niklas had often played in the water during the summer, rowed in the boat and taught themselves to swim. Of course, it had been a challenge for Villemo to learn to swim just as well as Niklas did, preferably better than him, and she had the added advantage of living at Elistrand. She remembered the many times her mother had anxiously admonished her and slapped her bottom for swimming too far out.

Once, Niklas and she had swum around the entire lake. Irmelin hadn’t joined them because she wasn’t a very good swimmer and worried about being ‘unfeminine’. Villemo was more of a tomboy.

But the Sound wasn’t the same as the small lake at home. For instance, nobody had mentioned anything about how to swim in currents, and against big waves and things like that.

The fishing boat was already far away. It was hurrying home to calmer water on the Danish side. The coast seemed just as far away as before and Villemo was growing tired.

Rubbish, she’d be able to tackle this, surely? That bit of the coast she could see was the lowland. There were no steep slopes, just undulating countryside.

Villemo had a vague idea about high water and low water but since she was a landlubber she didn’t know much about the sea. All she hoped was that the water was on its way in and not out because then things would get difficult.

‘What a bother that it took such a long time to get here! Now don’t panic. And stop thinking about the fact that you can’t touch the bottom... What about sea serpents and things like that? Nonsense! Anyway, it’s easy to float in salt water.

Dominic! Dominic, can you hear me? Are you able to receive my message? Do you and I possess enough of the abilities of the Ice People that we can communicate psychically? If so, please listen! If I really have contact with you in my thoughts, would you please lend me some of your strength, you who are so physically strong? Can you lend me some of your courage and self-confidence? You see, I’m beginning to be frightened.

Apart from the boat which is now hurrying towards Denmark, there are no others to be seen, and there is no sign of life on land. We saw Klagshamn a short while ago. It’s situated on the other side of the spit towards the north. There’s a bay here and I’m right in the middle of it and there’s nobody in sight to help me!

This is what is known as physical loneliness. I know spiritual loneliness because I’ve felt it many times. Perhaps mostly out in the barn.

But we’re supposed to survive, Dominic. Niklas, you and I. Or maybe we’ve already accomplished what we were destined for? Maybe our task in life was to reveal the bailiff and the Woller farmer? Was that all?

Dominic, you can look into the future – well, not quite, but almost – you said that there was more, something horrific and shocking. Haven’t we had enough of that already? I for one have had enough for the next five lives! Anyway, it would be nice to know whether or not I’m predestined to survive this.

Ugh, I just swallowed a mouthful of water. That’s not a good sign. I must think of Dominic. And even more importantly, I need to rest a bit. How am I supposed to do that? Because I might drift out to sea if I do... No, I must continue a bit more. My arms are like lead.’

Villemo concentrated on Dominic. All her prayers were focused on him. She prayed for strength and stamina, that the coast would come a bit closer, that the tidal current would carry her in, that somebody - preferably Dominic – would hold her up and carry her forward.

Her heart was beating. Her arms and legs were numb. She began to envision fish biting her legs, but she couldn’t feel anything in them anyway. Maybe she didn’t have legs anymore?

Dominic, think of Dominic!

But how the hell is it possible to concentrate on anything when your brain is so exhausted? She involuntarily swallowed another mouthful of water.

‘Oh, God, help me! Please help one of your blackest and most unfaithful sheep! Dominic! I can hardly go on any further.’

Whether Dominic heard her telepathic call or not is impossible to know. But the mere thought of him helped her across the unknown water and inspired her to keep going. She felt stronger, which, rightly or wrongly, she attributed to him. When, at long last, she dared to look up, she could see that she had definitely come closer to land.

“Thank you, Dominic, thank you,” she whispered, swallowing yet another mouthful.

But it didn’t matter. For the first time during this nightmarish swim, she felt that she was getting somewhere, which made her use the rest of her physical resources, with an almost superhuman capacity.