When was the last time they had sex? It had been quite a while. She would have to get serious about that getaway to Paris so they could have a little time together again as a couple.

She started the car and checked the time on the dashboard. They were questioning Malthe’s choral director at ten. Maybe she could convince Mads Teigen to meet her after and take her out to Prøvestenen. Her midriff buzzed at the thought, and she hit the dashboard to rein herself in. What the hell was this fascination with a random man with sad eyes and strong hands all about? She wasn’t a freaking teenager anymore! Pushing the thoughts forcefully away, she wrote a quick, cool message to Mads to see if he was free to help her search at noon.

Svend, she thought, my good, loving husband, who is reliable, who makes me laugh, who never has bad breath. I do love him!

But the thought had been planted in her like a malicious virus: Was their love waning?

CHAPTER 19

The distinctive hum of Ark Futura often woke Mads Teigen in the early-morning hours. The massive freighter’s propeller had its completely own sound, deeper than those of the other freighters that passed through the harbor. Usually he went back to sleep again, but today his sleep was poor and plagued by nightmares, and he ended up tossing and turning until well into the morning. The sounds of Trekroner had long since become familiar to him: the hoarse cries of the gulls, the seaplanes, and the horn of the Oslo ferry. Lying in bed he registered it all without really hearing it anymore. It had become the backdrop of his life.

A life without any prospects of change. Not that he wanted change. Mads had stopped expecting more from his existence. The grass on the embankments needed to be mowed, the mink population controlled, the fort maintained. Routine, no variation.

And yet.

Yesterday had been a variation. For a second he had opened the door to his heart chamber and let the light shine on the swamp that it was. That had been a mistake. It wouldn’t happen again. He had been punished for it all night, and now there was only one thing to do. The same thing he always did: shut down and move on.

He got out of bed, ran through his mental checklist under the shower, and got dressed. Today was Tuesday, and there wouldn’t be many visitors on the island. Apart from the regular rowing clubs, he would probably be left to work in peace today. The coffee trickled through the filter. He poured himself a cup, took it out into the morning light, and drank it under the tall beech tree in the yard, his eyes on the horizon.

Today was day 266 on his calendar.