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Authors: Dea Brovig

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BOOK: The Last Boat Home
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Else locks the front door and climbs down to the yard. Together, she and Liv make their way to Marianne.

P
ETTER IS WAITING
for her at the Longpier. She sees his sailing boat docked in front of Peppe’s Pizza as she ambles down Torggata, the wind buffing her cheeks and washing the street with its salty, clean smell. Else pulls the elastic band from her ponytail and lets her hair fall down her back. She glances into the window of the Hong Kong Palace and carries on by.

It is a good day for sailing. Petter predicted that it would be when they spoke.

‘We’ll set off early,’ he said. ‘Get a head start on everyone else so we can choose a good spot to drop anchor for lunch. Don’t forget a warm jacket.’

Else’s windbreaker is tucked under her arm. A food basket is hooked over the other at the elbow. She has brought a round-baked loaf, a bag of shrimps and a tube of mayonnaise, fresh picked blueberries and a box of chilled white wine. The shop assistant at the Wine Monopoly suggested a Grüner Veltliner. Else is in the mood for trying something new. She is wearing jeans and a smock top that she borrowed from Marianne, white linen with a pretty trim at the collar.

The migrant workers have already set up their stalls in the square. The weekend market hums with Slavic intonations. Else cuts through its centre on her way to the harbour, where the trawler is docked in its usual place. She nods her ‘good morning’ to the fisherman when she passes and continues up the Longpier towards the
Selene
. Petter stands on deck removing the covers from his sails. She is almost beside him before he sees her.

‘Else,’ he says. He finishes the job at hand and extends an arm over the rail. ‘Let me take that from you.’

Else relinquishes the basket.

‘What have you brought?’ he asks.

‘I found shrimp,’ she says. ‘Ninety-nine kroner a kilo.’

Petter sets down the basket at his feet. ‘Welcome aboard,’ he says and she steps onto the gunwale. She lifts her leg over the rail as Petter reaches for her and guides her onto the deck. While he busies himself with unknotting the mooring lines, she unpacks the food into an ice chest and settles onto a cushion in the cockpit. The fjord is snagged with short waves that race ahead of the wind. Else finds a jumper at the bottom of her basket. She shakes it out and pulls it over her head. Above her, a long stretch of cloud clots and thins like tilled soil.

The stern of the boat is already drifting before Petter leaps from the Longpier onto the prow. He steals barefoot down the length of the hull, checking his balance with a palm on the masthead and crabbing over the cabin to the helm. Else sits still while he steers them into the fjord. She closes her eyes to better feel the water.

‘Beautiful sailing weather,’ says Petter.

The bow dips and rises in a lulling rhythm. They have barely left shore when he switches off the motor.

‘Are you ready?’ he asks.

‘Yes,’ she says.

He begins by pulling the halyard. The head of the mainsail creeps up the mast and catches the wind. The boat pitches, sending a shiver of excitement over Else’s skin. The boom swings over the deck before Petter secures his line and moves on to the jib. Now the mainsail is taut. Their speed picks up until they are winging over the waves.

When both sails have been raised, Petter rests beside Else.

‘I’m glad you called,’ he says.

‘Shall I make some coffee?’

‘I’ll get it. Just relax.’

Petter ducks into the cabin and returns with a thermos, two plastic mugs and a bag of raisin buns. He rips a hole in the bag and offers it to Else, who bites into a bun as he pours the coffee.

‘How do you like it so far?’ he asks.

‘It’s wonderful.’

He hands her a mug and stands at the wheel. Else watches the water. They pass the island group and cast out into the Skagerrak.

‘Have you been to Denmark yet this summer?’ she asks.

‘Not yet,’ Petter says. ‘I’ll go before long. I thought I might take a trip to Skagen this year. Have you ever been?’

‘Never,’ says Else.

‘It’s beautiful,’ he says.

‘I’d like to see it,’ she says.

Petter studies her face. ‘Here. You should try to steer her.’

‘No, that’s all right.’

‘Captain’s orders,’ he says and moves aside. He waves Else out of her seat and she plants her feet where he shows her. She places her palms on the wheel. Her knees are soft to the throb of the current. Else looks back at the town that is shrinking over her shoulder and holds tight as the hull tilts with the wind.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Version 1.0

Epub ISBN 9781448165568

www.randomhouse.co.uk

Published by Hutchinson 2014

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

Copyright © Dea Brøvig 2014

Dea Brøvig has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

First published in Great Britain in 2014 by
Hutchinson
Random House, 20 Vauxhall Bridge Road,
London SW1V 2SA

www.randomhouse.co.uk

Addresses for companies within The Random House Group Limited can be found at:
www.randomhouse.co.uk/offices.htm

The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 9780091953768 (Hardback)
ISBN 9780091954291 (Trade paperback)

BOOK: The Last Boat Home
11.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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