It’s a long way to walk six days a week, at least for a nine-year-old, but Henry never goes with her, not once. All he does is take his daughter to the edge of the meadow, where the cows are chewing the cud beneath the open sky. Then he points east, towards the treeless horizon. ‘Head for the elf...
It was cool and airy inside, and it was easy to get about. There were no raised thresholds, no stones, no clumps of grass – but it was lonely. Very little happened. He had few visitors. John was busy with the shop and the campsite, and Tilda was away on holiday. His daughters popped in, but they ...
After warming up his lunch and eating it, he settled down in his chair out in the garden to read the newspaper and listen to the birds, waiting peacefully for the evening. Then he caught sight of a grey-haired man in a crumpled coat, walking along the road with a cigarette dangling from the corne...
Beside him the stevedores are waiting to take the stone on board. Wind is lying at anchor a hundred yards or so out in the water, at a safe distance from the shore in case a storm should suddenly blow up along the Oland coast. In Stenvik there is no pier in the harbor behind which a ship can shel...
She thought it was Gerlof, and picked up the receiver without any misgivings. It was Martin. “I just wanted to see how you were. Make sure everything’s okay.” Tilda didn’t speak; the pains in her stomach came back immediately. She gazed out at the empty quays in the harbor. “Fine,” she said event...