Free Conscious Decisions of the Heart by John Wiltshire Page A

looked after him herself. Ben found her almost motherly presence completely restful and reassuring. It actually amused him to think of telling Nikolas, when asked, that yes he’d had girlfriends on Aeroe—an elderly widow and a spinster librarian.
     
    § § §
     
    Ben noticed the change in the sea first. One evening, walking in to start his swim, the cold hit him. He did his usual distance but getting out was unpleasant, and he jogged back to the house and into his room, glad to get into a warm shower.
     
    Ingrid mentioned it next, picking up some leaves from the lawn and saying wistfully, “We must think about getting wood in for the winter. It comes along every year more quickly.”
     
    Ben straightened, did a calculation in his head, and realised he’d been on Aeroe for three months. It was October. He hadn’t heard from Nikolas since the end of September.
     
    The days continued to pass in his simple routine. If he wasn’t running or swimming, he was working on his Danish, always Danish, reading, writing now, listening to the television and chatting with Ingrid. The Red Shoes were long forgotten. Now, following Gabby’s recommendations, he had a roomful of books. He’d rented some audio books as well and listened to them as he fell asleep, anything not to have to think about Nikolas.
     
    One day, Ingrid came up to him in the garden, watching him for a while. The days of just wearing shorts were well over. He was warmly dressed and working on raking the leaves. “Would you like to visit the Mikkelsen summerhouse? I’ve contacted the caretaker, Hans, and he offered to show us around it this afternoon. Of course, I taught him. Very silly boy, and he didn’t marry well. Dreadful Swedish woman—Agna. But one mustn’t speak ill of foreigners, I suppose.”
     
    Ben straightened and nodded. “I heard it was empty.”
     
    “Oh, yes. Quite. I don’t believe anyone has lived in it since Nina and her babies. But it’s well cared for. Too well, some say. God alone knows what Agna will do if anyone from the family ever wants to live there again. She seems to think of the place as hers. Which I suppose she would after so long.”
     
    § § §
     
    They drove over that afternoon. The estate was at the top of the island. They passed through forests and then emerged back again at the coast, and there it was, a large villa perched on a headland with formal gardens running down to the sea. The caretaker was waiting for them, introduced himself as Hans, apologised that his wife was home in Sweden visiting family, and began to chat to Ingrid as he led them through the courtyard to the door.
     
    Inside was like a scene from an old movie. Everything was covered in dustsheets and seemed to have a timeless quality to it as if the owners had just stepped out for a moment. Ben could understand Hans’s chatter quite well, but he wasn’t listening. He wandered around touching things Nikolas had touched, walking where he’d walked. He wondered whether, if he’d been here alone, he’d hear an echo of a young boy’s voice, high pitched, excited, running through his life with a zest for living until all the joy was taken from him.
     
    In one room, in a bay window, there was a grand piano. He pulled the sheet off and sat at it. He tapped a note. It was all he could do; his childhood hadn’t included piano lessons. But then it hadn’t included vicious sexual assault either. He closed his eyes. Everything ached for Nikolas now. Not just the physical things, which ached continually despite his extreme regime, but everything, his heart, his thoughts, his soul . With a clench of his jaw, he closed the lid and pulled the sheet back. “Spirit of place. I have felt it in places also . ”
     
    If anywhere held the spirit of the Nikolas he loved, then this was the place.
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    October turned seamlessly into November as it always does. One day, running in the woods, Ben smelt woodsmoke. He had to stop, hands on