On Friday, he was down on the jetty about to head back to Loddefjord when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, holding the line he’d just untied in his other hand. It was Knut. He answered the call, then tucked the phone between his ear andhis shoulder while he tied the line back to the jetty, knowing he was being summoned back to site for something.
In a split second, someone called his name, and when he looked round, his phone dropped. He reached out to catch it but missed, and it plopped into the fjord. It was gone.
He ran his hands through his hair, reliving the last minute, rewinding it in his mind to try and get a different outcome. After taking a deep breath, he headed back to the farmhouse, past the contractors who had called out to him and now looked sheepish, although it wasn’t their fault.
‘I’ve dropped my phone in the fjord,’ he said to Knut.
Knut looked like he might laugh but turned it into a thin-lipped grimace instead. ‘Shit, Mats.’
‘What did you want?’
‘You forgot your coat.’
Mats tried to stay calm. He’d lost his phone over a coat he could have picked up next time he was here. But it wasn’t Knut’s fault. ‘Have a good weekend.’
‘You too.’
He drove the boat back to Loddefjord, the image of his phone plopping into the water playing on repeat in his head. It didn’t really matter about the phone; he could get everything back. It was just an inconvenience he didn’t need. It was too late now to go to the store in Bergen to buy a new one, so he’d have to sort it out in the morning. At least Knut knew what had happened, so would know he’d be incommunicado at least until tomorrow morning.
Ida had dinner on when he got back and Emil was playing a game on the TV.
‘Can I play?’
‘You can’t be the turtle, Uncle Mats.’
Mats chuckled. He knew the turtle was Emil’s favourite character, so he teased him by always pretending he wanted to be the turtle. ‘Spoilsport. I’ll be the banana.’
‘The banana is the worst one,’ Emil said, laughing as if he’d got one over on his uncle.
Mats settled back to play the car racing game, all thoughts of his phone forgotten as he relaxed, laughing with Emil and enjoying not having to think about the island. They ate dinner with Ida and he put Emil to bed and read him a story while his sister relaxed on the terrace with a glass of wine.
Before the end of the story, Fredrik crept into the bedroom.
‘Papa!’ A sleepy Emil looped his small arms around his father’s neck and Mats left them to it.
He went downstairs, poured himself a glass of wine and went out to sit with Ida.
‘I dropped my phone in the fjord,’ he said.
Ida laughed, with no pretence of feeling sorry about it at all. ‘Oh, Mats. You idiot.’
He let himself smile about it, enjoying seeing his sister laugh, even if it was at his expense. ‘At least it’s the weekend. No one will need me tonight.’
Fredrik joined them outside, deciding to stay the night too, and the three of them sat on the terrace sipping wine and talking until late. The midnight sun didn’t quite extend to Bergen, and in July the nights were lengthening, but it was a beautiful evening, warm and clear with the moonlight shimmering off the glassy surface of the fjord, interrupted only by the wake patterns of occasional boats.
‘It’s coming together then,’ Fredrik said after Mats told him the latest developments on the island.
‘Yes, they’re starting on the electrical wiring and plumbing next week. That will take a couple of weeks, and then the kitchen will be installed after that.’
‘And Becca can start decorating,’ said Ida.
‘I’ve run out of money.’ He had to tell them. It felt awful, admitting that they’d been right to think he’d sink everything into this project and maybe lose it all, but that was the reality he was facing now.
‘You have to let us help,’ said Ida. ‘Take our share of the inheritance, Mats.’
He shook his head. ‘I won’t do that. It’s bad enough that I’ve lost my own share.’
‘What’s the alternative?’ said Fredrik.
