Between Two Seas Read Free Page B

can feel heat rising in my face.
    ‘I wish,’ I point at myself, ‘to go to Denmark.’ I make a wave movement with my hand, intended to signify a sea voyage, and point out to sea, to where I imagine Denmark lies. I feel so foolish. The old man stares at me a moment longer, and then shrugs, and turns back to his nets.
    I take a step back and look over at the second boat; she has the name Ebba painted on the prow. To my mortification, there is a man standing smoking his pipe and watching me. He has obviously overheard everything. Should I walk up to him and repeat the ridiculous mime, or should I flee at once and spare myself the humiliation? But he’s already beckoning me.
    ‘You want to sail to Denmark?’ he asks. ‘How many people?’
    ‘Only myself,’ I reply. His sandy brows lift in surprise. I see him purse his lips, his bushy beard twitching as he does so.
    ‘You travel alone?’ he asks.
    ‘Yes.’
    He is silent a moment, looking suspicious. I wait for questions, but none come. He doesn’t even ask my age.
    ‘We sail to Esbjerg the day after tomorrow,’ he tells me unexpectedly. ‘If you can be ready you can come.’
    ‘How much?’ I ask anxiously. He names a price. It is more than I want to pay, but less than anything I’ve been offered so far. I should demur, and offer less, I am sure he expects it. But it is fish all over again, and after only a brief hesitation, I accept his terms.
    He smiles and offers to shake hands on his bargain. ‘Captain Larsen,’ he introduces himself.
    Now there’s no turning back. I am almost elated as I hurry back through the streets to share the news with Mrs Forbes. At the same time I am deeply afraid: at that price, I’ll have no money to return.

THREE
     
    I take a last look around at the empty room, which has been my home for the last five years. Even by the grey light of the early dawn, it looks forlorn and shabby. I have folded the borrowed blankets I slept in for Mrs Forbes to collect later.
    My trunk is already stowed on board the Ebba ; I paid a porter to carry it down to the harbour for me yesterday evening. It has my name, Marianne Shaw , and my destination, Skagen , printed on the side. The things I will need during the journey are packed into the same carpet bag my mother left her home with some seventeen years ago.
    I pick up the bag, gently close the door, and begin to creep down the staircase. But Mrs Forbes must have been awake and waiting for me, because as soon as the floorboards creak, she emerges from her rooms. She’s wrapped in a faded pink dressing gown and has her hair twisted into rags. I can’t repress a small smile.
    ‘Goodbye, my dear,’ she whispers, offering an embrace. I put my bag down and hug her tightly. She smells of tallow and cabbage.
    ‘Thank you again for everything you’ve done for me. I’ll write to let you know that I’ve arrived safely,’ I offer as we let one another go. To my surprise, she hangs her head and doesn’t reply. I am confused for a moment and then I understand. She can’t read, and she’s ashamed.
    I’m grateful to my mother, who though she couldn’t afford to send me to school, passed on to me as much of her own fine education as shortage of time and money allowed.
    ‘I shall send you a picture, dear Mrs Forbes,’ I promise instead. Her face brightens.
    ‘That would be a kindness, bless you,’ she says. ‘And here’s a little something for your journey,’ she adds, pushing a parcel neatly wrapped in brown paper into my hands. Then, without giving me a chance to look at it, she hugs me again.
    ‘Off you go then. I wish you good fortune, and I hope you find your father,’ she says briskly, and gives me a little push. There are tears in her eyes.
    I want to tell her I’ll miss her, but the words won’t come. I pick up my bag again, and go to the front door. I linger a moment, looking back at her, and then step out into the street.
    There are quite a number of people in town, even at