Harbor by John Lindqvist (classic novels for teens txt) 📕

swung up on to the track ten metres ahead of him, and Simon was blinded by the powerful headlight. He had thought the moped would turn in the opposite direction, towards the fire, but instead it swerved to the right and came straight at him. He was about to step to one side, but remembered that he was already standing by the verge.

The dazzling light made it impossible for him to see anything at all. He just heard the roar as the moped zoomed past him, felt the faint thrust of air as the metal body passed by. The moped carried on at high speed along the track towards the village.

Anna-Greta, Tora!

He turned and saw the beam of light from the moped racing along the track. He could also see a vague silhouette of the person who was driving. He couldn’t see who it was, just a figure bent over the handlebars with something on the platform, something roughly the same size as a child standing up.

Immediately afterwards he saw Anna-Greta and Tora caught in the beam. They had been sensible enough to step to one side, and themoped passed them with plenty of room to spare. Simon breathed out. He might be deeply disappointed in Anna-Greta, but he definitely didn’t want to see her run over by some lunatic on a moped.

Who was it?

In his mind Simon went through the small number of young people living on the island, but couldn’t come up with a single candidate. As far as he knew, they were all quiet kids who spent too much time playing computer games and longed for the day when they would be able to leave Domarö. At worst they might scrawl rude graffiti about Stockholmers on the steamboat jetty shelter.

Speculation was pointless right now, however. There was a fire to put out, and he was serving no purpose standing here debating with himself. But he felt dizzy and exhausted, and not at all in the mood for a rescue effort.

He had been involved last time. They had managed to link up a couple of garden hoses in order to spray water on the burning ground, but most of the water had been hauled up from the sea in buckets and passed from hand to hand along a human chain; and there had been more of them on that occasion.

When he emerged from the forest he could see that the finest house on the whole of Kattudden was burning, the Grönwall house. One of the first to be built when the summer tourist industry was in its infancy.

There wasn’t much that could be done. The external walls were virtually gone, and through the yellow and red flames the beams and framework could be seen as darker lines. There was a loud crackling, and despite the fact that he was standing a good hundred metres away from the blaze, he could feel a faint breath of the fire’s heat.

It was a pity about the beautiful house, of course, but at the same time it was fortunate that it was this particular house that was on fire. It was set in a large garden, and there didn’t seem to be any real risk that the fire would spread to other properties, as long as they kept an eye on the sparks and burning fragments that might drift through the air.

The people delineated against the bright glow of the fire like matchstick men seemed to be of the same opinion. Nobody was doing anything, they were just standing at a safe distance or walking around checking that no new blaze was about to break out.

Simon really wanted to go home, but he realised that wouldn’t look good. When he spotted Göran standing to one side talking on his mobile phone, he headed over to him. Göran said something into the phone, nodded a couple of times then snapped it shut. He caught sight of Simon and came to meet him.

‘Hi there,’ he said. ‘The fire service are on the way, but it’ll be mainly a matter of damping down, I think.’

They stood side by side for a while, contemplating the burning house without speaking. The heat now lay like a dry film over their faces, and a shower of sparks flew up as one of the roof beams collapsed.

‘How did it start?’ asked Simon.

‘No idea. But it seems to have caught hold incredibly fast.’ Göran jerked his thumb in the direction of one of the houses further up towards the forest. ‘Lidberg, I think his name is. Lives up there. He said it just went boom and the whole place was on fire.’

‘Was anyone there? Inside the house?’

‘Not as far as I know. But I mean a fire doesn’t start just like that for no reason.’

‘The Grönwalls—they’re only here in the summer, aren’t they?’

‘That’s right. But I think the daughter stays here now and again.’

They took a few steps towards the fire, and Simon peered into the bright glow as if he expected to be able to see something in the flames. A person, something moving. Or a blackened skeleton. Another supporting post came down, bringing with it a couple of roof beams in a cloud of crackling flames. If there had been anything living in there, it certainly wasn’t alive now.

The grass in the garden surrounding the house had dried out, and patches were beginning to burn. Simon, watching the fire moving towards the well, was overcome by the urge to do somethingsignificant. He could call up the water from the well, order it to pour down on the fire and make the work of the fire service unnecessary. With Spiritus in his bare hand he might be able to do such things.

If it had been a matter of saving lives, he would probably have done it. But in the current situation it would just be a meaningless demonstration that would also give rise to unpleasant questions. He didn’t want to touch Spiritus. He didn’t know why, but there it