‘My husband and I own a house on Minsøy.’
‘A summer house, you mean.’
Jasmin took a sip of her drink, which had now gone cold. ‘Is that a bad thing?’
A solemn smile played over his bearded lips – solemn and yet warm. ‘That depends if you’re a summer or a winter person. But you’ve actually already answered your own question. You’re looking for something, one way or another, aren’t you? Just like most of us are.’
‘I’m looking for . . .’ From the corner of her eye, Jasmin saw Paul stand up, walk over to the window and press his nose to it. Rain was whipping against it and running in rivulets down the thick glass. ‘I guess . . . for myself.’
‘I’m sure you’ll manage it in the end.’ The old man extended his hand – a huge bear’s paw that bore the marks of hard physical labour – and Jasmin shook it. ‘Karl Sandvik,’ he introduced himself. ‘Come and see us if you need anything. Our door is always open and my wife loves meeting new people.’
‘Thanks,’ Jasmin replied. ‘Jasmin Hansen. Thank you very much.’
‘It’s always good to know there are still young people out there who are made of sterner stuff. Which house did you say was yours?’
‘Number 7. On the south coast, close to the beach.’
‘Ah.’ Sandvik stroked his beard. ‘The old captain’s house. Nice spot, with the forest and the sea views. Well, I’ll see you again, I hope.’
‘Absolutely.’
Sandvik nodded and looked back at the window, where Paul was still peering out and drawing letters in the condensation on the glass. ‘There she is,’ he said. ‘Minsøy.’
Light-grey rock was emerging from the mist, which soon gave way to darker grey, followed by steep slopes, cliffs, a shingle beach on which the waves were crashing with full force. Jasmin could see the lighthouse and its beacon, the road running along the cliff edge, and the rooftops of Skårsteinen in the distance.
The island was wild, rugged and beautiful, an almost pristine patch of earth. The port drew nearer and the ferry slowed down. For a moment, the blanket of clouds parted and let a few rays of sunshine through.
See? they seemed to be trying to say. Not everything is dark.
‘We made it.’
Chapter 2
Jasmin Hansen had liked the house at the end of the road from the moment she saw it. True, the roof was a little crooked and the red brickwork on the windward side was overgrown with moss and encrusted with salt, but it was still in one piece, as if it had resolved never to bend before the onslaught of the sea and the storm gales. It felt familiar, a place she could retreat to and clear her head. That was something she desperately needed right now – more than ever before in her life.
‘Here we are,’ she announced, her heart pounding. ‘I think it’ll suit us very well, don’t you?’
Paul leapt out of the hire car as soon as she opened the door and Jasmin followed him with a smile as he dashed up to the house, closely followed by Bonnie, who held her head up to sniff at the breeze after the long journey.
Bonnie and Clyde, Jasmin thought. If Jørgen and I had bought a second dog, we couldn’t have called it anything else. But that’ll probably never happen now.
The crunch of car tyres on gravel prompted her to look back over her shoulder. An old Volkswagen was coming up the drive, and the man who got out shortly afterwards looked like he’d been poured directly into his blue winter coat.
‘Jasmin Hansen,’ she introduced herself. ‘I’m—’
‘Of course, I know who you are,’ he answered in a gruff voice. ‘Knut Jüting, but I’m sure you know that already too. So you made it over all right?’
‘The sea was a little rough.’ Jasmin smiled noncommittally.
‘They’ve been saying on the radio that the first big autumn storm will be arriving very soon, young lady, and I can’t argue with them. I can sense it. There’s an ache in these old bones that I haven’t felt for a long time.’ He handed her a keyring with three keys attached, one of which was larger than the others. ‘Front door, the shed at the back of the house – the door sticks a little so give it a good shove and don’t be timid about it – and this one’s for the boathouse down on the beach behind the forest.’
‘Wonderful,’ Jasmin replied. Knut Jüting – who looked after a few of the empty houses on the south coast of Minsøy – shook her hand. She felt calluses and rough skin that spoke of hard graft on the high seas. ‘What were they saying about the storm?’
‘It’s getting closer,’ Jüting replied. ‘But the roof is sound, Ms Hansen, don’t you worry about that. I made sure of it.’ He held up a bulky old mobile phone that he must have bought years ago and never traded in for a better model. ‘And if you have any problems, give me a call. It isn’t very far to the village.’
‘Just follow the road, right?’
‘Just keep following the road,’ he replied, walking back to his Volkswagen. ‘That’s right.’
Jasmin found Paul and Bonnie in the overgrown garden behind the house. The birch trees were clustered beside the fence and she could barely make out the narrow path under the long grass – the path that led down to the beach.
‘Who wants to take a look around inside?’ she called. ‘And who wants a cup of hot chocolate?’
Bonnie barked and Paul giggled as the dog licked his face. Jasmin walked back around and unlocked the front door. There was a bright piece of mirrored glass mounted in the dark oak to let people inside look out. The door swung open with a squeal.
A musty, dusty odour hung in the air, with something else underneath it that she couldn’t identify – maybe mould, or maybe something rotten. Had an animal got in through a broken window and been unable to find its way out again? It was a possibility – the house had been unoccupied for years.
Five years, to be precise.
You’re back, she thought. After all this time, you’re back.
She and Paul stepped through the front door into a hallway designed to keep the cold out of the rest of the ground floor during winter. On the wall to their left was a brick fireplace with an oil painting hanging above it that showed an old ship crossing a choppy sea, its square sails bellied out in the wind.
The floor and the sideboard were covered with a layer of dust in which Bonnie left pawprints as she trotted curiously through the hallway towards the kitchen. ‘Here, Bonnie.’ The dog returned obediently to Jasmin’s side and looked up at her expectantly. Jasmin didn’t like the idea of her tearing off through the house and possibly disturbing some animal that had taken up residence inside. The caretaker had dropped in regularly to check up on things, but he evidently hadn’t viewed cleaning as one of his duties.
‘Maybe we should start by looking for the vacuum cleaner,’ said Jasmin. ‘But before that . . .’ She flicked the light switch. There was a buzzing noise, as if the old and long-unused bulbs were protesting, but then warm light flooded into the hallway. One of the wall lights gave a bright flash before going out with a pop, but the rest of them stayed on.