The cabin hatch was opened by a man his own age, who climbed into the cockpit carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses, which he placed on the table under the canopy roof. He was followed by a woman of the same age, who was holding a lit hurricane lantern in one hand and a small speaker playing smoky old jazz in the other.

Maybe Matilda and Theodor were right. Maybe this was the thing for them. A sailboat. A shared project to help them find peace and harmony among the myriad cosy harbours of Öresund.

‘Excuse me, did you want something or were you just looking?’

Fabian snapped out of his reverie and turned to the man in the cockpit. ‘I’m sorry, I was actually on my way to my own boat. But I just had to stop and admire your beauty. She must be incredible on the open sea.’

‘Sure, she can handle just about anything, though so far we’ve had nothing but smooth sailing all the way from Kalmar.’

‘May I ask where you’re headed?’

‘Next stop is Humlebæk, straight shot across the sound to the Danish side. As soon as the weather improves, that is. Then a night leg to Göteborg; after that, all we know is we’re sailing around the world,’ the man said with a smile, as a boy of about ten stuck his head out of the cabin. ‘We sold our house and took two years’ leave from work. For starters – we’ll see if we ever go back.’ The man laughed and filled the wineglasses.

‘Vincent, I thought you were asleep,’ the woman said, hugging the boy.

‘I want to sleep with you tonight.’

‘But why, when you have your own room and everything?’

‘What if there’s a monster? I’d be all alone in the back.’

‘Vincent, there’s no such thing as monsters, you know that.’

‘Yeah, but still. Please…’

‘Of course you can, sweetheart. Right, Frank?’

‘I thought we’d talked about this. But all right, on one condition. That you and I check to make sure there are no monsters in the aft cabin before we hit the hay. And I’m talking a thorough search.’

The woman let out a laugh and winked at her husband before walking their son back down into the boat.

‘So, what kind of boat do you have?’

‘Um, it’s just down here, slip 388, and it really doesn’t hold a candle to—’

‘388?’ the man broke in, frowning. ‘But that’s right here.’

He nodded to the slip next to his, which was empty.

Fabian went over and confirmed the small sign said 0388.

So the slip was unoccupied. In fact, it was the only vacant slip on either side of the pontoon.

‘I’m sorry, but this is our fourth day here, and it’s been empty the whole time,’ the man continued.