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

fallen to bits with rust, and if you tried to attach an engine to it, it would probably fall into the sea. Anders studied the construction. With a couple of bolts through the whole thing, the metal plate could be reinforced with a piece of wood. It wasn’t a complicated job, but the boat would have to be turned over so that he could get at it.

He went up to the house and asked Elin to help. It was hard work, but eventually they managed to tip the boat up so that it was balanced, and Anders was able to go round to the other side to take the weight and break the fall as it landed the right way up.

Elin looked at the cracked seat, the splits around the rowlocks and the fringes of fibreglass along the broken gunwale. ‘Are you intending to go out in this?’

‘If the engine works, yes. What are you going to do?’

‘About what?’

‘About everything. Your life. What are you going to do?’

Elin tore off a couple of wormwood leaves and crushed them between her fingers, sniffed at them and pulled a face. Anders glimpsed a movement behind her, and saw that Simon was heading towards them. When Elin caught sight of him she whispered, ‘Don’t tell him it’s me. If he asks. I can’t…’

She had no time to say any more before Simon reached them. ‘So,’ he said, nodding towards the boat. ‘Are you off to sea?’

‘Yes.’

Simon turned to Elin and gave a start. He stood there frowning for a couple of seconds, staring at her face. Then he held out his hand.

‘Hello. Simon.’

He continued to stare at Elin’s face as if he were trying to remember something. Anders couldn’t understand his reaction. OK, Elin looked ghastly, but Simon’s behaviour was downright rude, and not like him at all. If you bumped into a person whose facewas scarred from severe burns, for example, you didn’t stand there gawping at them like that.

Simon seemed to realise this himself; he let go of Elin’s hand, smoothed away his stunned expression and asked, ‘So, are you…’

Elin didn’t stop to listen to the question, but excused herself and went back up to the house. Simon watched her go. Then he turned to Anders. ‘Is she a friend of yours?’

‘Yes. Or…it’s a long story.’

Simon nodded and waited for Anders to continue. When he didn’t oblige, Simon contemplated the boat instead and said, ‘This doesn’t look too good.’

‘No, but I think she’ll float.’

‘And what about the engine?’

‘Don’t know. I haven’t tried it.’

‘You’re welcome to borrow my boat if you need it, you know that.’

‘I want something of my own. But thanks.’

Simon clasped his hands together and walked around the boat, saying ‘Hmm’ to himself at regular intervals. He stopped beside Anders and rubbed his hands over his cheeks. It was obvious he had something to say. He cleared his throat, but it wouldn’t come out. He tried again, and this time things went better.

‘There was something I wanted to ask you.’

‘Ask away.’

Simon took a deep breath. ‘If Anna-Greta and I were to…if we were to get married. What would you think about that?’

Simon looked deeply worried. Something burst out of Anders’ chest and for a fraction of a second he didn’t know what it was, he was so unused to the feeling, but it was a laugh. ‘You’re going to get married? Now?’

‘Well, we’re thinking about it, yes.’

‘What about all that business of not knowing another person?’

‘I think we’d better regard that as…somewhat exaggerated.’

Anders looked up at Anna-Greta’s house as if he expected to see her standing up there, anxiously eavesdropping. He didn’t get it. ‘Whyare you asking me about this? What do you want?’

Simon scratched his head and looked embarrassed. ‘Well, I want to, of course, but I mean it’s also a question of…I mean, I’d inherit everything, if she were to die before me. Which doesn’t seem particularly likely, but…’

Anders placed his hand on Simon’s shoulder. ‘I’m sure we can get something in writing. Something that says I can keep the Shack. If it comes to that. I’m not bothered about anything else.’

‘That’s OK with you? Are you sure?’

‘Simon, it’s more than OK. It’s the first piece of good news I’ve heard in a long, long time, and…’ Anders took a step forward and gave Simon a hug. ‘Congratulations. It’s about time, to say the least.’

When Simon had gone, Anders stood with his hands in his pockets for a long time, staring at the boat without thinking about the boat. For once his internal organs felt warm and easy to carry. He wanted to hang on to that feeling.

When he went up to the timber store after a while, he discovered that he could take the feeling with him. It stayed with him while he cut a piece of treated wood, lingered as he drilled holes in it and fixed it to the stern.

Will there be a wedding?

He hadn’t asked Simon if they were planning a proper wedding in the church at Nåten, or if they were planning to have it at home, or just a civil ceremony. They probably hadn’t thought about it themselves either, since nothing was decided yet.

Who proposed to whom?

He just couldn’t picture it, how it had happened or what had led to it. But it was fun to think about it. The feeling remained with him.

It was only when he had nailed a plank between two trees, hauled the engine on to it and connected a pressure tank that the usual gloom began to take over once again. The engine wasn’t co-operating. He pumped up the petrol, pulled out the choke and yanked at the starter until his arm started to go numb. Nothing.

Why does everything have to fucking play up? Why can’t anything work?

He lifted off the cover and saw that he’d flooded the engine, the petrol had run out of the carburettor and gathered in a puddle underneath the fuel filter. He did all the things he could think of,