by Karen Swan
‘Are you crying?’ Linus asked, his hand warm on her arm.
She looked down at him, the wind whipping away her tears. ‘No, it’s just the wind,’ she fibbed, pushing down her heartache with a bright smile, knowing just how much Jack would have loved this moment. This had been their life together – well, not this rarefied echelon, clearly, but the world gliding beneath their feet as they rigged the sail and set the boom. This was what he had lived for. But the truth was brutal and simple and unavoidable – he wasn’t here, and he never would be again. He was gone.
She made herself say it in her head. He’s gone . . .
She saw Emil, clipped to Linus’s other side, watching her as though he detected the lie, and she looked away with a defiant chin-thrust to the air, her eyes closed, willing the past to leave her alone.
‘Hold on!’ Mats, the skipper, suddenly yelled as the boat turned, catching the wind, and in an instant they were aloft, up on the hydrofoils, a metre above the waves. She screamed with shocked delight as she looked down to find they were slicing across the water’s surface as if on a blade. Linus met her widened eyes, screaming and laughing too like they were on a rollercoaster, then looking over at Emil, who was the same, all of them caught in a shared bubble of euphoria. She had never seen him laugh before, she realized, and it changed him completely, lifting away the grim mask of endurance that he so often wore.
She had never experienced anything like it as the boat sliced along, ever faster, the crew slick and professional, oblivious to the spray that soused them as they worked. They looked almost menacing in their all-black Linea kit, working together intuitively. There was no doubt this boat was an eye-wateringly expensive piece of kit, an international player on the professional scene – and a mere toy for a family like his.
She still harboured strong doubts about the ethics of allowing a ten-year-old to believe he owned a multimillion-kroner boat, but she couldn’t deny this was fast shaping into a perfect day. The forecast storms were still nowhere to be seen, but the vanguard winds were playing to their advantage as the crew skilfully manoeuvred the super-vessel into catching it, billowing out the sails and skimming them for miles across the glassy ocean’s surface. They went so fast and so far, she half expected to see the coast of Finland.
Watching the crew in action was a masterclass in elite sailing, the men running full-pelt from one side to the other trying to catch the wind, winching in and out the sails from the grinding stations, leaping across the nets. They were both athletes and commandos, all being dunked repeatedly in the bracing water, the sea breaking over them with relentless force as the boat carved too sharply and deeply on some of the turns; without being clipped on, they would have been overboard, no question.
‘Keeping the platform stable on this boat is more complex than flying a helicopter,’ Emil shouted over the wind to Linus. ‘How many knots?’ he yelled over to Mats.
‘Fifty-two!’
Bell’s mouth opened. That couldn’t be right, could it? Could a sailing boat do those speeds? It would be fast for a speedboat!
‘Remember there’s a child on board!’ she hollered, unable to stop herself, her nerves getting the better of her again. Was this what it was going to be? An accident with Linus on board?
Mats turned back and winked at her. He was a stocky Australian, with a butter-blonde beard and hair tied back in a ponytail, the skin on his broad, planed face pleating thinly as he grinned. He probably wasn’t that much older than her, but life on the ocean didn’t just weather boats. ‘Don’t worry,’ he grinned. ‘I’ve got you.’
It was true, he did make it look easy as he handled the boat with instinctive skill. He was both powerful and light on his feet, issuing orders, hauling the giant helm, making tactical decisions . . . She didn’t notice the minutes clip by. There was too much to watch, always the expectation and then the thrill when the men got the boat exactly where they wanted her and she flew along on her rails again, making them all scream with delight. But eventually, Mats turned to Emil with an enquiring glance and, at his nod, the crew began winding in the sails, the boat dropping back into the water again, it’s speed falling from a sprint to a crawl, and eventually a stop.
It was like coming off a rollercoaster, all of them panting and beaten about by the wind. They bobbed on the water, no land in sight, just deep blue above and below.
‘Oh my God, that was incredible!’ she sighed happily as the crew unloaded the lunches and they were able to unclip themselves and stretch their legs.
‘My butt’s gone numb,’ Linus cried, seeming somewhat delighted by it.
‘Yeah, mine too,’ Emil agreed, copying his son in a strange glute-squeezing dance clearly intended to improve blood flow. Bell grinned, amused as she watched them both. There was a physical echo between them as they jiggled about, trying to outdo each other with their silliness. She thought they probably didn’t see that they had the same walk, or that they both tipped their heads to the side, just a little, when listening, or that they pulsed their index fingers and thumbs together as an impatient tic.
‘Not the most deluxe lunch you’ll ever have,’ Mats said, breaking her attention and handing her a baguette and bottle of water.
‘Oh, thanks.’
‘But weight’s crucial to performance, so we can only bring a minimal load on board.’
‘Especially when you’ve got three bodies sitting as dead weights behind the helm,’ she said self-deprecatingly.
‘Emil’s the boss. He’s no dead weight,’ Mats laughed, as the man himself wandered over.
Linus – having watched the crew running back and forth over the trampolines all morning – followed suit, running with a bandy-legged gait between the cross-members like he was in a soft play centre.
‘Did we bring the, uh . . .?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Mats said, reaching down and pulling out a magnum of Bollinger. Chilled.
‘Hey, Linus –’ Emil took it from him and shook it up, letting the cork pop in a perfect arc through the air, plumes of champagne streaming out so that Linus was running through mists of effervescence, arms outstretched to the sky. Bell sighed. Any hopes of preventing him from becoming overexcited were well and truly dashed for the day.
‘So a bottle of champagne isn’t considered a detriment to the weight–drag performance ratio, then?’ she asked, as Mats presented a couple of plastic wine glasses too.
‘Of course not. The bubbles keep it light,’ Mats quipped as Emil poured.
Bell laughed.
‘Do the guys want some too?’ Emil asked Mats.
Mats looked back at his team, their lifejackets off now that the boat wasn’t moving, all of them tucking in ravenously to their lunch. ‘Best not. They’ll need clear heads in case we meet those storms later.’
Bell looked at the huge bottle. Surely she and Emil weren’t expected to drink all that on their own?
‘They’re not due till evening, I thought,’ Emil said.
‘Nope. But that wind’s gustier than I’d expected at this point,’ Mats said, thoughtfully casting his gaze over the horizon. It was still bright, but the distinct, sharp seam between sea and air had become blurred, atmospheric conditions beginning to change. ‘I’ll buy them all a beer back at base.’
‘Well, buy them from me,’ Emil said. ‘Put it on the account. You’ve all worked hard for us this morning. We appreciate it, don’t we, Linus?’
‘Huh?’ Linus called, still playing on the nets.
‘Thanks, boss,’ Mats said, echoed by a broken rumble of appreciative voices from the men behind. ‘That’s very generous.’
‘You must be exhausted,’ Bell said as Mats began to eat, tearing at his baguette like a lion devouring an antelope.
‘All in a day’s work,’ he shrugged.
‘You didn’t stop.’
‘Can’t afford to. In a twenty-minute competition, I can make up to 1,100 adjustments to the foils and rudders.’ He smiled at the shocked expression on her face. ‘Did I
hear that you’re a sailor?’
She was further taken aback. ‘I don’t know, did you?’
His eyes slid over questioningly to a wide-eyed Linus, who was dangling from the boom. ‘Hmm.’
She gave a small groan and smiled. ‘I was, once. A lifetime ago.’
‘Ah, you know what they say – once a sailor, always a sailor.’
‘Well, I never did anything at this level. The speeds you can reach, the tech you’ve got . . . it’s an entirely different beast to what I knew.’
‘Different, but still the same,’ he shrugged. ‘You don’t miss it?’
She froze, not wanting to think about how much she missed it. Missed him. A silence stretched, but she didn’t notice.
‘Bell had been sailing the world with her fiancé, but then he died,’ Emil said bluntly, stepping in for her.
Mats’ expression changed from curiosity to shock. ‘Oh jeez, I’m sorry, I had no idea!’
‘Well, of course not. Don’t worry, it’s fine,’ she said in a wobbly voice, forcing a smile as she glanced angrily at Emil, drinking his champagne like nothing had passed. She knew he hadn’t intended to be cruel, but he had delivered the statement so clinically – just facts, no emotion. No filter.
‘Can I . . . ask what happened?’ Mats enquired, his face a picture of concern.
She looked back at him. ‘Cancer. Pancreatic.’
His face fell. ‘Oh God. That’s the worst. My best mate’s brother was diagnosed three weeks after the birth of his daughter; the poor bugger died nine months later. By the time they found it, it had spread too far . . .’ He shrugged hopelessly.
‘That was the same with Jack. He died within four months.’
‘No symptoms either?’
She hesitated, feeling the pinch of blame in the words she must say. ‘. . . Actually, there were some. But he ignored them. We both did.’
Her face must have registered some of her all-consuming guilt because Mats leaned forward. ‘Hey, don’t do that. Don’t make it your fault. I know what it’s like when you’re on open water, normal life seems so . . . improbable. You’re out there, free, seeing the world, and life feels beautiful and limitless; but it can also be really hard and distracting on the waves; there’s no mercy out there. Things get missed or put off. And what the hell can you do in the middle of the Pacific anyway, you know?’
She nodded; she would never forgive herself but she could hear the kindness in his message, the empathy. Something his boss was incapable of. ‘He was only twenty-four. I think we both just thought he was too young and fit to be that sick.’
The pity spread across Mats’ face. ‘Where were you when he was diagnosed?’
‘Here. Sweden. We’d been sailing the Barents, intending to get over to the Caribbean for the winter months. We stopped at Malmö for a few days to stock up; there were these sweets he always liked that you couldn’t get anywhere else.’ She gave a small smile at the memory before it faded again, rubbed out by a harsher one. ‘He collapsed in the street. They took him in to hospital and he never left again.’
‘Jesus,’ Mats murmured, reaching over and squeezing her arm warmly. ‘I’m really sorry. That’s rough.’
‘Yeah.’ She realized her sandwich was sitting, untouched, in her hand. She forced herself to take a bite, but it was like chewing cardboard.
‘So that’s why you’re here, then? In Sweden?’
‘Basically. I couldn’t physically have sailed the boat alone, even if I’d wanted to, and I definitely didn’t want to sail with anyone else.’ She shrugged. ‘Besides, I was in shock for a long time; it had all happened so fast. I sold the boat and bought an apartment in Stockholm with the money and spent a year just staring at the walls. I didn’t work, didn’t go out, barely ate . . .’ She sighed. ‘Until one day, it was raining, absolutely pouring, and I decided to go for a walk. It was the first time I’d been outside in weeks.’
‘You wanted to walk – in the pouring rain?’ Emil asked.
‘Exactly! Those are the best walks!’ she said, seeing his scepticism. ‘It woke something in me, that feeling of the rain on my face.’
‘It reminded you that you were still alive,’ Mats said, getting it.
‘Yeah, exactly. So I began walking every day, even when it was sunny.’
He chuckled at her contrariness. Emil looked confused.
‘Then I advertised for a roommate and got Kris, who’s become my best friend; he’s the brother I never had.’ She glanced at Emil. Did he remember the name, the handsome face? Did he care? ‘He introduced me to his friends, and I started hanging out with them all. And one day I looked around me and realized I’d put down roots, and my life was in Sweden, and that was that.’
‘What about your family back home?’
‘There isn’t one. I was an only child and my father was much older – his marriage to my mum was his second; he died when I was thirteen and my mother died six years later.’
Emil was staring at her. ‘When you were nineteen.’
Good maths, she wanted to quip, but she bit her tongue. ‘Yes.’
‘That’s why you flunked your exams and didn’t go to uni.’
She swallowed. Tact really wasn’t his thing. ‘. . . Yes.’
‘So you went sailing round the world instead.’ It was as though he was putting together a picture in his mind, arranging her life story to a sense of order. Good luck with that . . .
‘There’s no greater escape,’ Mats said, nodding. ‘I reckon I’d have done the same.’
Bell smiled at him, grateful for the affinity, and he winked back.
‘So then, the question is – we know how you got to Sweden, but how exactly did you end up here, on a shabby boat like this with us reprobates?’ Mats joked. Still, he shot an enquiring glance in the direction of his boss in case he took umbrage at either ‘shabby’ or ‘reprobates’. Emil’s sense of humour could be unpredictable – it didn’t always show up.
‘I met Hanna in a cafe one day after my walk. The twins were babies and she was struggling to feed them and keep this chicken amused,’ she said, ruffling Linus’s hair lovingly. He had finally finished with his exertions and was sitting beside her, picking the filling out of his baguette. ‘So I offered to help and the next thing I knew, I had a job.’
She saw Emil had stopped eating, his baguette barely touched in his hands, listening to the story of how she came to be here – on his boat, in his family’s life – the conversation an echo of the one they’d had that night on the little boat about Destiny. ‘Funny, isn’t it, how you end up in places? Never in a million years would I have predicted this.’ She motioned to their simple champagne lunch, the sleek carbon hulk of the vessel.
‘Tell me about it,’ Mats said. ‘I’m the proverbial wanderer. I don’t do more than a season anywhere.’
‘No? Where’s next for you?’
‘New Zealand. I’m part of the team for the America’s Cup next Spring.’
‘Oh wow! That’s incredible.’
‘Yep. Living the dream. I’m leaving in a few weeks, actually. Sailing myself down to Auckland to start getting things in order.’ He looked at her. ‘Are you going to stay in Sweden, do you reckon?’
Bell patted Linus on the head. ‘Well, certainly until this one becomes a teenager and refuses to sit on the naughty step any more,’ she joked. At least, she had intended it as such, but the words tapped a wellspring of deep emotion she hadn’t known was there. Talking about this wasn’t in the least bit funny.
‘And when you’ve outlived your usefulness? Go travelling again?’
‘Yeah, maybe,’ she shrugged lackadaisically, trying not to acknowledge the sense of panic that idea stoked in her. The thought of leaving her life here – her friends, her little apartment, the Mogerts, Linus especially . . . He blinked back at her, his green eyes deep and soulful, so like his father’s.
It was impossible to imagine it, not having him or any of them in her life any more. It was true, she hadn’t
envisaged this version she was living without Jack; but she had found perfect strangers and moulded them into a family of her own. They were all she had. They were all she was. They were her life now.
She looked over at Emil, seeing his sense of separateness like a cloak upon his shoulders. She got it, suddenly. She understood why he was so intent upon getting his family back, and why he couldn’t move on; his dogged refusal to let Hanna go or to concede defeat to Max. It wasn’t down to ego or will or a rich man’s spoiled whim. It was simple. Without them, the man who had everything, had nothing.
‘Okay, is it clear?’ she yelled down.
Emil looked back at her. ‘We’re in three-hundred-metre depth! What do you think could possibly be in your way?’
The crew laughed, whether from obedience or genuine amusement she wasn’t sure.
She cringed. ‘A whale?’
They all laughed harder, even Emil. ‘It’s fine.’
‘Okay then, I’m ready,’ she said, facing the horizon, her gaze high, arms by her sides.
‘Wait! This better not just be a dive. You said this was going to be good!’ Mats hollered. ‘Unless you’re going to do a penguin dive?’
‘Oi!’ she grinned. ‘Just you wait. And don’t give him here ideas!’ She winked down at Linus, standing behind her, then took a deep breath. ‘Right, count me in.’
‘Three – two – one!’ they all cried, and she walked forward two steps, raised her arms up and leapt . . .
The men were cheering when she surfaced a moment later.
‘A reverse pike?’ Emil asked, looking shocked as she swam over to him, away from the diving point.
‘Agh, I was a fraction out on the entry. But you know, it’s been four years, so . . .’
‘Where did you learn to do that?’
‘I lived on a boat for three years. Getting into the water elaborately becomes a vital source of amusement, believe me.’
They were treading water, his eyes looking particularly startling against his tan and slicked-back hair and she realized it was a good thing he wore his shades so much. He might have dismissed their night together, but she hadn’t. Couldn’t. ‘Well, I guess you really have raised the stakes,’ he said, looking impressed.