‘My grandad?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was he, then?’
Cecilia made a vague movement with her lips and looked at Anders, who said, ‘An old fisherman.’
Maja nodded and set off towards the lighthouse, which had now become an extended blot against the bright sky.
Simon was standing on the veranda, tracking their progress through his telescope. He saw them stop and talk, saw them set off again with Maja in the lead. He smiled to himself. That was just typical of Maja. Trying so hard, working, wearing herself out. The child had a dynamo inside her, a little motor spinning away, constantly charging itself. The energy had to go somewhere.
In everything but blood he was her great-grandfather, just as he was grandfather to Anders. He had known them both before their eyes were able to focus on his face. He was an outsider, absorbed into this family that was not his own.
While he was filling the coffee machine he glanced up, from habit, at Anna-Greta’s house. He knew she had gone over to mainland to do some shopping and wouldn’t be back until the afternoon but he looked anyway, and caught himself missing her already.
More than forty years together, and he still longed to see her. That was a good thing. Perhaps it had something to do with living apart. At first he had been hurt when Anna-Greta said yes, she loved him, but no, she had no intention of moving in with him. He could carry on renting his house from her as before, and if the situation didn’t suit him it was unfortunate, but so be it.
He had gone along with it, hoping that things would change in time. They did, but not in the way he had thought. Instead he was the one who changed his point of view and after about ten years he’d come to the conclusion that everything worked extremely well. The rent he paid was token. It hadn’t gone up by a single krona since he first moved into the house in 1955. One thousand kronor per year. They would spend the money on a trip on the ferry to Finland, eating and drinking nothing but the best. It was a small ritual.
They weren’t married—Anna-Greta felt that her marriage to Erik had been one too many—but to all intents and purposes, Simon was her husband and the children’s grandfather and great-grandfather.
He went out on to the glassed-in veranda and picked up the telescope. They were still ploughing on out there, they had almost reached the lighthouse now. They had stopped, and he couldn’t make out what they were doing. He was trying to adjust the focus so that he could see what they were up to, when the outside door opened.
‘Hello there!’
Simon smiled. It had taken him a few years to get used to the fact that those who lived here all year round simply came stomping into each other’s houses without knocking. In the beginning he would knock on people’s doors and be rewarded with a long wait. When the door finally opened, the look on the resident’s face clearly said, Why are you standing out here putting on airs and graces? Come inside.
Boots were removed, there was the sound of throat-clearing in the porch, and Elof Lundberg walked in, wearing his cap as usual, and nodded to Simon.
‘Good morning to you, sir.’
‘And good morning to you.’
Elof licked his lips, which were dry from the cold, and looked around the room. What he saw didn’t appear to provide him with anything worth commenting on, and he said, ‘So. Any news?’
Simon shook his head. ‘No. The usual aches and pains.’
Sometimes he found it amusing, but today he wasn’t in the mood to stand there exchanging pleasantries with Elof until they got down to business, so he decided to flout convention. ‘Is it the drill you’re after?’ he asked.
Elof’s eyes narrowed as if this was a completely unexpected question that needed some consideration, but after thinking for a couple of seconds he said, ‘The drill. Yes. I thought I might…’ he nodded in the direction of the ice, ‘…go out and see if I have any luck.’
‘It’s under the steps as usual.’
The last time they had had a really icy winter, three years ago, Elof had come to borrow Simon’s ice drill a couple of times a week. Simon had said Elof was welcome to come and fetch it whenever he needed it and just put it back when he was finished. Elof had made noises indicating agreement, and had continued to come in and ask every single time.
On this occasion, his mission seemingly accomplished, Elof showed no signs of leaving. Perhaps he wanted to get warm before he set off. He nodded at the telescope in Simon’s hand.
‘So what are you looking at?’
Simon pointed towards the lighthouse. ‘The family’s out on the ice, I’m just…keeping an eye on them.’
Elof looked out of the window, but of course he couldn’t see anything. ‘Whereabouts are they?’
‘Out by the lighthouse.’
‘Out by the lighthouse?’
‘Yes.’
Elof was still looking out of the window, his jaws working as if he were chewing on something invisible. Simon wanted an end to this before Elof caught the aroma of the coffee and invited himself to stay for a cup. He wanted to be left in peace. Elof pursed his lips and suddenly asked, ‘Has Anders got one of those…mobile phones?’
‘Yes, why?’
Elof was breathing heavily as he gazed out of the window, looking for something it was impossible to see. Simon couldn’t understand what he was getting at, so he asked again.
‘Why do you want to know if he’s got a mobile?’
There was silence for a few seconds. Simon could hear the last of the water bubbling through the coffee machine. Elof turned away from the window and gazed at the floor as he said, ‘I think you should ring him and tell him…he ought to come home now.’
‘Why?’
Silence fell once again, and Simon could smell the aroma of the coffee drifting from the kitchen. Elof didn’t seem to notice. He sighed and said, ‘The ice can be unsafe out there.’
Simon snorted. ‘But it’s half a metre thick right across the bay!’
Elof sighed even more deeply and studied the pattern on the carpet. Then he did something unexpected. He raised his head, looked Simon straight in the eye and said, ‘Do as I say. Ring the boy. And tell him to gather up his family. And go home.’
Simon looked into Elof’s watery blue eyes. Their expression was deadly serious. Simon didn’t understand what this was all about, but he had never encountered this level of seriousness, this kind of authority from Elof before. Something passed between them that he couldn’t put his finger on, but it made him go over to the phone and key in the number of Anders’ mobile.
‘Hi, this is Anders. Leave a message after the tone.’
Simon hung up.
‘He’s not answering. It’s probably switched off. What’s this all about?’
Elof looked out across the bay once more. Then he pursed his lips and nodded, as if he’d come to a decision. ‘I expect it’ll be fine.’ He turned towards the hallway and said, ‘I’ll take the drill for a couple of hours, then.’
Simon heard the outside door open and close. A cold draught whirled around his feet. He picked up the telescope and looked out towards the lighthouse. Three little ants were just clambering up on to the rocks.
‘Hang on a minute!’
Anders waved to Maja and Cecilia to get them in the right position and took a picture, two pictures, three pictures with different degrees of zoom. Maja was struggling to get away the whole time, but Cecilia held her close. It looked fantastic with the two small figures in the snow and the lighthouse towering up behind them. Anders gave them the thumbs up and stowed the camera in his rucksack once again.
Maja and Cecilia headed for the bright red door in the lighthouse wall. Anders stayed where he was with his hands in his pockets, gazing at the twenty-metre-high tower. It was built of stone. Not brick, but ordinary grey stone. A building that looked as if it could withstand just about anything.
What a job it must have been. Transporting all that stone here, lifting it, putting it in place…
‘Daddy!
Daddy, come on!’
Maja was standing next to the lighthouse door jumping up and down with excitement, waving her gloves in the air.
‘What is it?’ asked Anders as he walked towards them.
‘It’s open!’
Indeed it was. Just inside the door were a collection box and a stand containing brochures. There was a sign saying that the Archipelago Foundation welcomed visitors to Gåvasten lighthouse. Please take an information leaflet and continue up into the lighthouse, all contributions gratefully received.
Anders rooted in his pockets and found a crumpled fifty-kronor note, which he happily pushed into the empty collection box. This was better than he could have hoped for. He had never expected the lighthouse to be open, particularly in the winter.
Maja was already on her way up the stairs, Anders and Cecilia following. The worn spiral staircase was so narrow that it was impossible for two people to walk abreast. Iron shutters fastened with wing nuts covered the window openings.
Cecilia stopped. Anders could hear that she was breathing heavily. She reached out behind her back with one hand. Anders took it and asked, ‘How are you doing?’
‘OK.’
Cecilia carried on upwards as she squeezed Anders’ hand. She had a tendency towards claustrophobia, and from that point of view the lighthouse was an absolute nightmare. The thick stone walls rising up so close together swallowed every sound, and the only light came from the open door down at the bottom and a fainter source of light higher up.
After another forty or so steps it was completely dark behind them, while the light above them had grown stronger. From somewhere up above they could hear Maja’s voice, ‘Hurry up! Come and see!’
The staircase ended at an open space in a wooden floor. They were standing in a circular room where a number of small windows made of thick glass let in a limited amount of light. In the middle of the room was another open door in a tower within the tower, with light pouring out.
Cecilia sat down on the floor and rubbed her hands over her face. When Anders crouched down beside her she waved dismissively. ‘I’m fine. I just need to…’
Maja was shouting from inside the tower and Cecilia told him to go, she would follow shortly. Anders stroked her hair and went over to the open door, which led to another spiral staircase, this one made of iron. The light hurt his eyes as he climbed the twenty or so steps up to the heart and the brain of the lighthouse, the reflector.
Anders stopped and gazed open-mouthed. It was so beautiful.
From the darkness we ascend towards the light. He made his way up the dark staircase, and it was a shock to reach the top. Apart from a whitewashed border right at the bottom, the circular walls were made entirely of glass, and everything was sky and light. In the middle of the room stood the reflector, an obelisk made up of prisms and different coloured, geometrically precise pieces of glass. A shrine to the light.
Maja was standing with her nose and hands pressed against the glass wall. When she heard Anders coming, she pointed out across the ice, towards the north-east.
‘Daddy, what’s that?’
Anders screwed his eyes up against the brightness and looked out over the ice. He couldn’t see anything apart from the white covering, and far away on the horizon just a hint of Ledinge archipelago.
‘What do you mean?’
Maja pointed. ‘There. On the ice.’
A gust of wind made the powdery snow whirl up, moving like a spirit across the pristine surface. Anders shook his head and turned back to face the room.
‘Have you seen this?’
They examined the reflector and Anders took some pictures of Maja through the reflector, behind the reflector, in front of the reflector. The little girl and the kaleidoscope of light, refracted in all directions. When they had finished Cecilia came up the stairs, and she too was amazed.
They ate their picnic in the light room looking out across the archipelago, trying to spot familiar landmarks. Maja was interested in the graffiti on the white wall, but since some of it required explanations unsuitable for the ears of a six-year-old, Anders took out the information leaflet and started reading aloud.
The lower parts of the lighthouse had been built as early as the sixteenth century, as a platform for the beacons lit to mark the navigable channel into Stockholm. Later the tower was added and a primitive reflector was installed; at first it was illuminated using oil, then kerosene.
That was enough for Maja, and she was off down the stairs. Anders grabbed hold of her snowsuit.
‘Just hang on, sunshine. Where are you off to?’
‘I’m going to look at that thing I said I could see.’
‘You’re not to go too far.’
‘I won’t.’
Anders let go and Maja carried on down the stairs. Cecilia watched her disappear.
‘Shouldn’t we…?’
‘Well yes. But where can she go?’
They spent a couple of minutes reading the rest of the leaflet, and learned that the Aga aggregate had eventually been installed, that the lighthouse had been decommissioned in 1973 and had then been taken over by the Archipelago Foundation, which had put in a symbolic hundred-watt bulb. These days it ran on solar cells.
They looked at the graffiti and established that at least one instance of sexual intercourse must have taken place on this floor, unless of course it was just a case of wishful thinking on the part of the writer. Then they gathered their things together and set off down the stairs. Cecilia had to take her time because of the palpitations, the pressure on her chest, and Anders waited for her.
When they got outside there was no sign of Maja. The wind had started to get up and the snow was swirling through the air in thin veils, glittering in the sunlight. Anders closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. It had been a fantastic outing, but now it was time to go home.
‘Maaaja,’ he shouted. No reply. They walked around the lighthouse, looking out for her. The rock itself was only small, perhaps a hundred metres in circumference. There was no sign of Maja anywhere, and Anders gazed out across the ice. No small red figure.
‘Maaaja!’
This time he shouted a little more loudly, and his heart began to beat a little more quickly. It was foolish, of course. There was no chance that she could have got lost here. He felt Cecilia’s hand on his shoulder. She was pointing down at the snow.
‘There are no tracks here.’
There was a hint of unease in her voice too. Anders nodded. Of course. All they had to do was follow Maja’s tracks.
They went back to where they’d started from, by the lighthouse door. Anders poked his head inside and shouted up the stairs, just in case Maja had come back and they hadn’t heard her. No reply.
The area around the door was covered in footprints made by all of them, but there were no tracks leading off to the right or left. Anders took a few steps down the rock. He could see their own tracks leading up towards the lighthouse from the ice, and Maja’s footprints heading off in the opposite direction.
He stared out over the ice. No Maja. He blinked, rubbed his eyes. She couldn’t have gone far enough to be out of sight. The contours of Domarö merged with those of the mainland, a thicker line of charcoal above a thinner one. He turned to face the other way, catching Cecilia’s expression: concentrated, tense.
There was no sign of their daughter in the opposite direction either.
Cecilia passed him on her way out on to the ice. She was walking with her head down, following the tracks with her eyes.
‘I’ll check inside the lighthouse,’ Anders shouted. ‘She must be hiding or something.’
He ran over to the door and up the stairs, shouting for Maja but getting no reply. His heart was pounding now and he tried to calm himself down, to be cool and clear-headed.
It just isn’t possible.
It’s always possible.
No, it isn’t. Not here. There’s nowhere she can be.
Exactly.
Stop it. Stop it.
Hide and seek was Maja’s favourite game. She was good at finding places to hide. Although she could be over-excited and eager in other situations, when she was playing hide and seek she could keep quiet and still for any length of time.
He walked up the stairs with his arms outstretched, stooping like a monkey so that his fingers brushed the edges where the staircase met the wall. In case she’d fallen. In case she was lying in the darkness where he couldn’t see her.
In case she’d fallen and banged her head, in case she…
But he felt nothing, saw nothing.
He searched the room at the top of the stairs, found two cupboards that were too narrow for Maja to be able to hide in. Opened them anyway. Inside were rusty, unidentifiable metal parts, bottles with hand-written labels. No Maja.
He went over to the door leading to the upper tower, closed his eyes for a couple of seconds before he went inside.
She’s up there now. That’s where she is. We’ll go home and we’ll file this with all those other times she’s disappeared for a while and then come back.
Next to the staircase was a system of weights and chains, the cupboard containing the light’s mechanism secured with a padlock. He tugged at it and established that it was locked, that Maja couldn’t be in there. He went slowly up the stairs, calling her name. No reply. There was a rushing sound in his ears now, and his legs felt weak.
He reached the room containing the reflector. No Maja.
Barely half an hour ago he had photographed her here. Now there was no trace of her. Nothing. He screamed, ‘Maaaajaaaa! Out you come! This isn’t funny any more!’
The sound was absorbed by the narrow room, making the glass vibrate.
He walked all the way around the room, looked out across the ice. Far below he could see Cecilia following the track that had led them here. But the red snowsuit was nowhere to be seen. He was gasping for air. His tongue was sticking to his palate. This was impossible. This couldn’t be happening. Desperately he stared out across the ice in every direction.
Where is she? Where is she?
He could just hear the sound of Cecilia’s voice shouting the same thing as he had shouted so many times. She got no reply either.