noticed a dull ache starting up in her stomach. The pain caused the memories to explode in fireworks of images. It was as if the babies hadn’t spilled out of her, one after another, but instead had gathered inside of her. She threw herself at the rail and vomited. Then everything went black.
She had been ill for two days, Lars told her. When she awoke, the dreams were still vivid in her mind. Those horrible, feverish dreams, as clear as if she’d seen them in a film. Pictures of Lars’s first wife, Elisabeth, whom she’d seen only in photos. They had never met. Elisabeth had fallen overboard when a bad storm took her and Lars by surprise as they were sailing in the Mediterranean. Lars had never wanted to talk about it, but out of curiosity Malin had looked up the newspaper articles describing what had happened.
Those grainy photos in the paper hadn’t done Lars justice. They showed him after he’d come ashore in a storm-damaged boat. Without Elisabeth. And there were pictures of him at the funeral service, his face haggard as his wife was remembered by family and friends.
Her body was never found. She’d fallen overboard and disappeared. For ever.
But now Malin had seen her. In her dreams, Elisabeth had tumbled over the rail, backwards, while looking straight at Malin, who could clearly see her lips moving. She had desperately tried to work out what Elisabeth was saying. At first she seemed to be saying: ‘Save me.’ But then Malin thought the words she uttered before falling into the sea and vanishing for ever were: ‘Save yourself!’
She opened her mouth to tell Lars, but changed her mind. In the end, she said nothing. But when sleep returned, she once again saw Elisabeth’s face.
As soon as Malin was back on her feet, they left Grebbestad. Until that point, Lars had been the one who usually took the helm, but now that they were headed out of the harbour using the motor, Malin insisted on steering. A short time later they set the sails, and as they billowed in the wind, she felt the past few days being washed out of her mind. She was about to ask Lars to sheet home a bit when he did just that. Malin smiled. At least as sailors they made a good team.
Lars seemed to be simmering with suppressed anticipation. He radiated a tense energy even though he was doing his best to appear impassive. That worried her. The dreams about Elisabeth had been so real. So insistent. As if trying to tell her something. As if Elisabeth wanted to tell her something.
‘Looks like a storm’s brewing.’
Malin flinched. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Lars come to the cockpit to stand beside her. She followed his gaze and peered at the horizon. He was right. Huge black clouds had formed, and the wind was gathering force. The big sailboat was now racing forward through foaming swells that slapped against the bow.
‘Didn’t you listen to the weather report this morning?’ Malin asked, glancing at Lars. ‘I thought you said we would have clear skies with a light wind.’
He ran his hand through his hair, looking annoyed. She knew that gesture of his so well.
‘No, I didn’t say that. I assumed you had listened to the forecast. You were the one who insisted on being the skipper today.’
Malin didn’t reply. It was no use arguing over what either of them had said or done. No matter what, the weather was getting worse, and they had no option but to deal with it.
‘Release the mainsail,’ she said as the boat began tilting even more. She had to brace one foot against the side of the cockpit to keep her balance. ‘Maybe we should turn back,’ she added nervously, looking at Lars.
He shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. We need to get to Strömstad today.’
Malin was surprised by his strong reaction.
‘Why? Why do we need to get to Strömstad?’
‘We just do.’
‘But—’
She was about to protest, but he turned away.
‘Keep sailing, goddammit!’ he shouted, making Malin
She had been ill for two days, Lars told her. When she awoke, the dreams were still vivid in her mind. Those horrible, feverish dreams, as clear as if she’d seen them in a film. Pictures of Lars’s first wife, Elisabeth, whom she’d seen only in photos. They had never met. Elisabeth had fallen overboard when a bad storm took her and Lars by surprise as they were sailing in the Mediterranean. Lars had never wanted to talk about it, but out of curiosity Malin had looked up the newspaper articles describing what had happened.
Those grainy photos in the paper hadn’t done Lars justice. They showed him after he’d come ashore in a storm-damaged boat. Without Elisabeth. And there were pictures of him at the funeral service, his face haggard as his wife was remembered by family and friends.
Her body was never found. She’d fallen overboard and disappeared. For ever.
But now Malin had seen her. In her dreams, Elisabeth had tumbled over the rail, backwards, while looking straight at Malin, who could clearly see her lips moving. She had desperately tried to work out what Elisabeth was saying. At first she seemed to be saying: ‘Save me.’ But then Malin thought the words she uttered before falling into the sea and vanishing for ever were: ‘Save yourself!’
She opened her mouth to tell Lars, but changed her mind. In the end, she said nothing. But when sleep returned, she once again saw Elisabeth’s face.
As soon as Malin was back on her feet, they left Grebbestad. Until that point, Lars had been the one who usually took the helm, but now that they were headed out of the harbour using the motor, Malin insisted on steering. A short time later they set the sails, and as they billowed in the wind, she felt the past few days being washed out of her mind. She was about to ask Lars to sheet home a bit when he did just that. Malin smiled. At least as sailors they made a good team.
Lars seemed to be simmering with suppressed anticipation. He radiated a tense energy even though he was doing his best to appear impassive. That worried her. The dreams about Elisabeth had been so real. So insistent. As if trying to tell her something. As if Elisabeth wanted to tell her something.
‘Looks like a storm’s brewing.’
Malin flinched. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Lars come to the cockpit to stand beside her. She followed his gaze and peered at the horizon. He was right. Huge black clouds had formed, and the wind was gathering force. The big sailboat was now racing forward through foaming swells that slapped against the bow.
‘Didn’t you listen to the weather report this morning?’ Malin asked, glancing at Lars. ‘I thought you said we would have clear skies with a light wind.’
He ran his hand through his hair, looking annoyed. She knew that gesture of his so well.
‘No, I didn’t say that. I assumed you had listened to the forecast. You were the one who insisted on being the skipper today.’
Malin didn’t reply. It was no use arguing over what either of them had said or done. No matter what, the weather was getting worse, and they had no option but to deal with it.
‘Release the mainsail,’ she said as the boat began tilting even more. She had to brace one foot against the side of the cockpit to keep her balance. ‘Maybe we should turn back,’ she added nervously, looking at Lars.
He shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. We need to get to Strömstad today.’
Malin was surprised by his strong reaction.
‘Why? Why do we need to get to Strömstad?’
‘We just do.’
‘But—’
She was about to protest, but he turned away.
‘Keep sailing, goddammit!’ he shouted, making Malin
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