of which had just posted good profits forecasts.
He spent some time just holding the letter from his wife. Eventually he decided not to open it. It was as if he already knew what was in it, and it upset him. He tucked it into some pages in an old atlas he had in his travel archive.
Then he sat down at his little table. How should he reply to a letter he had not read?
He scribbled a few lines: he had a bad cold, a sore throat. Every evening his temperature varied between 37.9 and 38.8. But he was managing to cope with his work, which was now entering a crucial phase. He thanked her for her letter, and told her he loved her. That was all.
In his heart, he knew that he would soon return to Halsskär.
CHAPTER 56
By 27 November they had reached the point in their soundings where the new section of the navigable channel would join the old one.
It was further and further to row there from the mother ship. Lieutenant Jakobsson had offered to move the Blenda, but Tobiasson-Svartman had insisted that she remain where she was.
'My calculations regarding the new channel are based on the point where the Blenda has been anchored all the time. It would make matters more awkward if the ship were to be moved now,' he said.
Jakobsson accepted that response. He could not know that Tobiasson-Svartman did not want the Blenda to come too close to Halsskär.
On that morning he noted that the ship's barometer was falling. The slowness of the change might suggest that there was no major storm on the way, but he suspected that the weather would soon deteriorate significantly. The first dramatic storm of winter was looming.
This was the sign he had been waiting for. Swiftly he packed some of the dried food he always took with him on his travels, in case something unexpected happened. Without anyone noticing, he also paid a visit to the ship's store and took a few red flares. He rolled an extra sweater and some warm socks in an oilskin coat and placed the parcel in one of the tenders.
As he rowed away from the Blenda, the wind was gathering strength. He was sure that a storm would be over them from the north in an hour or so.
This time he decided to row into the little inlet where the tender would be less exposed. The dinghy was there. He beached the tender on the shingle and tied the painter round the base of a robust juniper bush.
It was just turned eight. There was a moment of calm, then the north wind set in. He waited in the inlet until he was certain the storm had come to stay. Then he clambered up to the highest point on the skerry and fired one of the flares. The crew of the Blenda would know that he was safe on the island and would stay there until the storm eased.
He hurried back to the tender, collected the parcel and followed the path to the cottage. The door was closed, smoke was rising from the chimney. He sat behind his rock, waiting for the rain. He stayed there until he was wet through. Then he emerged from behind the rock.
CHAPTER 57
She opened the door.
When she recognised his face she stepped to one side. No sooner had he entered the cottage than he wanted to turn and run out again. It was as if he had been enticed into a trap that he had set for himself. What was there for him to do here? This is madness, he thought, but a madness that I have been longing for.
She put a stool in front of the open fire.
'The storm blew up unexpectedly,' he said, holding his hands towards the fire.
'Storms always blow up unexpectedly,' she said.
She was keeping her face in the shadow, away from the fire.
'I was out rowing and didn't manage to get back to the ship. I took shelter here in the inlet.'
'They'll think you've been drowned.'
'I had a smoke grenade with me that I fired. So they'll know I'm here, on Halsskär.' He wondered if she knew what a smoke grenade was, but she did not ask him to explain.
She was wearing the grey skirt. Her hair was loosely tied at the back of her head, thick locks tumbled over her cheeks. When she handed him a cup, he wanted to take hold of her.
The coffee was bitter, full of grounds. She