I tried to take all of this in.
“So you’re saying this will all go away later and tomorrow the ferry will run and then it’ll get
really
bad?”
“Something like that is usually how it happens around here. Hence the idea of
Sturmwehen,
you see? Early warning contractions. Cup of tea?”
I nodded, having become accustomed to the islanders’ almost British obsession with cups of tea to remedy any kind of calamity. If Greetje was right, and if my calculations were right and my hopes were granted, there might be one more chance for my friends to get here, tomorrow.
Greetje was still trying to enlighten me on the specific conditions that would brew up a really bad storm on the island. “At the moment, we’ve got a westerly wind going on and things are pretty rough…” She paused as a gale-force-strength gust caught the windows as though to emphasize her point. “However, the weather forecast says that the wind will shift to the North West through the day tomorrow. On top of that, on Saturday night, there will be a full moon, which will make the high water even higher. So the worst, if there is a ‘worst’, is to come for Saturday night. It’s of course possible that it’ll all blow itself out through the rest of today but…” She petered out, unconvinced.
“And why does it all quiet down first?” I asked, ever curious.
“I don’t really know,” Greetje conceded. “It’s what island wisdom says, and it’s usually right. Anyway,” she moved on briskly, giving me instructions to protect my life and home. Finally dismissed, I made my way back home and busied myself with a long, hot bath. I flicked the heating on low to keep the house warm and investigated the presence of candles and other emergency equipment. My sense of anticipation had become tempered by twinges of fear. It wouldn’t be so great to be stuck in this remote cottage all on my own if things got really bad.
But only a few short hours later, Greetje’s prediction came true and the wind dropped. Not completely, but significantly. The rain eased off and the day ended on a dull and dreary but thoroughly unspectacular note, like any other November day. Exhausted by my earlier exposure to wind and rain, and content to stay in with a good book and a stab at writing another column, I holed up for the evening, lighting a few candles, sipping a glass of wine and even laying a small fire in the fireplace.
Friday morning broke quiet and grey. There was a peculiar feeling in my ears as I walked to school—everything was strangely muted and dense, as if the whole island was holding its breath. The children felt it as well. Where they had been excited and animated the previous day, they lounged sullenly and bored on their seats. We tried to jolly them along as best as possible, but I was glad when it was time for me go home.
The call came at two o’clock. It was Greetje, who had just had word from Klaus that Folke the ferry captain had spotted three English people—two men and a woman—buying tickets for the Langeoog ferry at Bensersiel.
I sat down heavily on a chair, giddy with relief.
Greetje’s voice was still emanating from the phone. “Sophie?” she was asking. “Are you there? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m here,” I responded. “Sorry, I had to sit down. I’m okay, though.”
“Do you think it’s your friends?” Greetje squealed excitedly. “It’s got to be them, right?”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” I mused by way of response. “I mean, how often do three English people randomly turn up on this island at this time of year?”
“Never,” Greetje confirmed. “They’ve not made reservations anywhere, they’re simply coming, just like you. Oh, this is so exciting.”
I felt my mouth break into a big grin. “It
is
exciting.”
“What are you going to do?” Greetje wanted to know.
“I will wait for them here.”
“You won’t go and meet them at the ferry?” Greetje threw a big spanner in my mental works. I had never considered meeting them at the ferry.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” I admitted reluctantly. “Do you think it would be a good idea?”
Greetje um’d for a couple of seconds. “I suppose it would let them know that you’re welcoming them, not?”
“I suppose it would,” I repeated. “But…it would spoil their surprise. I was going to have food ready when they get here, the table laid, candles and all that… like a party.”
“Great idea,” Greetje enthused. “I like your style. Let them think they’re surprising you, and surprise them with a welcome party. Anyway, I must go, there are some customers. But wait, before I hang up… Folke reckons they’ll be on the next ferry so they should get here for about four, just so you know.”
“Four,” I acknowledged. “That’s great.”
“Be good,” Greetje advised. “It’ll be fine.”
I gulped. “I hope it will,” I said in a small voice. After I had hung up, I repeated it to myself, one more time. “I hope it will.”
The day carried on like something out of a spy movie, with me being command central and field agents ringing in periodically with vital strategic intelligence. I got a call at three p.m. that the ferry had left Bensersiel with the three English people on it. At half-past five, when I was going quietly mad with worry, Folke called me directly from the harbor, telling me in an excited stage whisper that the three strangers had arrived and were boarding the train.
Thanking him, I hung up and turned to survey my temporary little kingdom. The table was laid, candles ready to be lit, little dishes of nibbles nestling in between the plates. I had blown up and hung balloons all over the kitchen and even found some streamers in the local stationery emporium. I switched on the oven so that the sausages would start cooking and laid out the pizzas on baking trays ready to go in. I arranged the smoked salmon on a plate so that it would have time to come to room temperature, and I put a heap of fresh Langeoog prawns into a serving dish in the fridge, sprinkled with a little drizzle of lemon and a hint of garlic oil.
All the while, I imagined my friends’ progress on the island train, their arrival at the station and their route to the cottage. Had Mr. Snoop provided them with a map and instructions, or would they have to brave the locals?
I felt happy and light as a feather. Finally, finally, finally, I would fix everything that had gone wrong before. Whatever it took, I would fix it. I would laugh and forgive and forget and explain and reassure and apologize and grovel and flatter and hug. All of the above, multiple times over, in no particular order. I would fix it, and we would make up.
At quarter to six, Mareike from the
Seeblick Hotel
let me know that my friends had taken three rooms, one each, and had booked in for a couple of nights. “They seem very nice,” she commented but I didn’t feel like chatting so I begged to ring off.
The telephone rang again at six p.m. It was Greetje. Apparently my visitors had been pointed in the right direction and were at this very moment walking down the lane. ETA would be ten minutes, and
Good Luck.
Adrenaline sloshed through my body in a rush of great excitement. This was it.
Music. Did I want music?
I flapped about a bit, shuffling through the few CDs I had brought and eventually deciding on my new Eighties compilation CD. No sooner had the first song started than there was a tentative knock. I did a final check; everything was ready.
I went to open the door.
My two best friends and the love of my life stood side by side on the doorstep of my lovely Langeoog hideaway cottage. Steve was holding a bottle of sparkly, Dan proffered flowers, and Rachel waved a pink-wrapped present. All wore big, beaming smiles.
For a moment, nobody moved. I wanted to say so much, yet I couldn’t find the right words to begin. All my preparation and rumination had left me wholly unprepared for the sheer emotion at seeing these three people again.
Rachel finally broke the ice. “We found you!” she screamed and launched herself at me for a big bear hug. The force of impact propelled me backwards and we half stumbled, half fell into the living room.
“Easy, easy,” Dan chided teasingly. “You might scare her off and she’ll run away again.” He threw me an inquisitive look and I shot him a smile back.
“Never,” I assured the three of them. “Never.” And I meant it.
Steve muscled in, gently disengaging Rachel’s arms from behind my neck and moving around swiftly for a hug. Despite my every resolution, my eyes filled up with tears and I blinked hard to keep them at bay.
“I missed you so much,” Steve whispered in my ear just as I whispered in his, “I’m so, so sorry.” He held me at arm’s length to look at me, then drew me close for a hug again.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said softly. “What a journey.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated again. “I’m sorry I ran, I—”
“Shh
,” Steve hushed me. “Everyone has a lot of explaining to do. One thing at a time.”
“Yes,” Rachel chimed in anxiously. “I want to go first.”
“Hold it, hold it,” Dan laughed. “Isn’t it my turn to say hello and get a hug, too?” He exchanged a look with Steve, who reluctantly relinquished his space next to me.
“Only one, though,” he teased and Dan thumped him on the shoulder.
Meanwhile, Rachel, ever nosey, had been investigating the room and began exclaiming about the balloons and decorations.
“She’s having a party,” she kept repeating before swooping in on me and taking my hand. “I hope… I mean… We’re not coming at a bad time?”
There was silence in the room as Dan, Steve and Rachel contemplated the possibility that their appearance might not be convenient. I looked from one to the other and back again, trying to stop my mouth from twitching. I couldn’t contain myself any longer.
“Of course not,” I shouted. “The party’s for you. I’ve been counting the hours!”
“You knew we were coming?” the three of them uttered in one voice.
“Absolutely,” I assured them. “It’s impossible to arrive unnoticed on this island. I knew you were at Bensersiel before you’d even boarded the ferry. Besides…” I grinned mischievously. “That private detective of yours was a bit of a klutz. He totally gave the game away.”
Dan looked crestfallen. “You knew about him?”
Aha
, it had to have been his brainchild.
“Everybody
knew about him,” I stated simply. “You can’t come to a tiny, close-knit community like this, not speak a word of German, and expect not to stick out like a sore thumb.” I giggled at the recollection of Greetje’s description.
“He was meant to blend in,” Dan mumbled.
“Yeah, well, I guess it’s hard to learn that much German on a one-day trip,” I acknowledged, slapping Dan playfully on the hand. “Anyway, naughty you for setting a gumshoe on me.”
“We missed you. We needed to find you. We imagined all sorts of things…” Dan offered by way of explanation.
“Gosh, when we discovered you’d disappeared…” Rachel started, but didn’t know how to finish.
“We were distraught,” Steve offered solemnly.
“Is that why you had the bust-up in the pub?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“You know about
that
?” Steve was aghast.
“Of course,” I replied nonchalantly. “They do have newspapers out here.” I neglected to omit how narrowly I had missed the story. Suddenly, I realized that everyone was still wearing coats.
“Aw, come on you guys, look at you. Take your coats off and let’s have some food. You must be hungry, right? And then we can talk.”
Within a couple of minutes, we were happily sitting at the table, pouring wine and bubbly and chatting away while the pizzas cooked and the sausages cooled. We picked at smoked salmon, prawns, and all the other nibbles I had bought, and we caught up with each other.
Rachel bit the bullet first. “Dan and I,” she began à propos of nothing, picking up a prawn and waving it about.
My heart stopped for a millisecond but I steeled myself. I was going to listen and to forgive.
Rachel opened her mouth but Dan spoke first. “We slept together,” he said flatly, looking a little anxious. “I… We…” He paused, clenching his fists, then unclenching them again before squaring his shoulders. “There really are no good words. We slept together five times.”
Rachel quailed at the totality of his confession but she held my gaze. A tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek, but she ignored it.
“I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered. “I became a floozie. After all this time of knowing Dan, I got drawn to the flame. I was lonely and you were with Steve and I didn’t see the harm in sleeping with Dan, not to start with, I didn’t, I swear… We never meant to hurt you.”
I cried, too. “And why would you? You were both free and single and… I shouldn’t have known, it was none of my business, and I just walked in, it was my own fault…”
“Not your fault,” Dan interrupted firmly. “This is not your fault. We were being selfish and hurtful and thoughtless. The night you saw us…that was the last time. We ended it before…before I even found your keys.” He was emphatic on this point.
I was lost. “What about my keys?”