Between Two Seas Read Online Free PDF Page B

heads on the quayside, just as they do at home. I can feel a sense of disappointment nagging at me. Surely it should all be far more beautiful than this?
    I have to hurry to keep up with Jens.
    ‘Is my trunk not too heavy for you?’ I ask anxiously.
    ‘No,’ he assures me. ‘It’s not far.’ And indeed, as we turn a corner, there’s a small inn on our right. It’s a low building, just one storey, with big wooden beams in the walls, and the stonework painted red. Jens places my trunk carefully just inside the doorway, and then turns to face me. We look at each other uncertainly for a moment, and then he wipes his hand on his trousers and offers it. I shake it. When he leaves I’ll be alone again.
    ‘You’ll be all right?’ he asks.
    I nod, trying to recapture the feeling of bravery I experienced earlier.
    ‘Thank you. For everything,’ I stammer.
    ‘You’re welcome!’ He winks, grins, and saunters off.
    A large, motherly-looking landlady has appeared beside me, looking a question.
    ‘Do you speak English?’ I ask tentatively.
    ‘ Nej ,’ she replies, shaking her head. It’s a bad start.
    ‘I need a room for the night,’ I try again.
    The warmth is fading from the afternoon sun, and I’m exhausted. She speaks to me in Danish again, and then disappears, returning a few moments later with a thin, stooped man I take to be her husband.
    ‘English?’ he asks. ‘Room?’
    ‘Yes,’ I agree gratefully. I’m relieved, but in fact his English is very limited and we struggle to understand one another. Neither will he accept my English money, directing me to the bank to exchange it for Danish kroner . Of course, I should have expected that. But what I need more than anything in the world right now is to lie down on a bed that will remain still beneath me.
    ‘Tomorrow,’ I beg.
    He nods.
    ‘ I morgen ,’ he agrees. ‘Tomorrow.’
    At last he picks up my trunk and carries it into a small bedchamber at the back of the house. It is sparsely and simply furnished with a bed, a chest, and a washstand, but light and clean. A wonderful contrast to the boat. The landlady brings me a jug of water and a candle. I can relax for the first time in days. I take a deep breath and let it go in a sigh of pleasure.
    I drink a little water, then wash my face and hands, and lie down on the bed. I listen to the noises of the inn and, further away, the harbour, so different to the sounds at sea. In only a few moments the sounds fade and I fall into the first real sleep I’ve had since I left England.
    When I open my eyes it’s early morning.
    The inn is bustling with noise and activity. There are noises from the kitchen. Breakfast being prepared perhaps. It sounds comfortingly ordinary. But then I hear someone speak Danish. I’m in a foreign country now. Nervous butterflies flutter in my stomach. My father’s language. It is a strange thought that it may become a familiar language to me. I know how hard it is to learn a language: my mother taught me a little French.
    I lie in bed for a while, savouring the stillness after the days and nights on board the Ebba. I stretch and yawn luxuriously in the clean sheets. I’m so comfortable I’m soon in danger of falling asleep again.
    ‘I need to move on,’ I say out loud to myself, and I sit up. I can’t waste this day; I don’t have the money for many nights lodging. In any case I’m eager to get to Skagen. I feel better for my sleep, but I can see in the looking glass that my eyes still have dark shadows etched beneath them.
    Timidly, I seek the landlord. He speaks to me at great length in a mixture of Danish and English, and I understand perhaps a quarter of what he says. I keep smiling. I ask him about the bank and the train station and get some directions which I am not clear about: ‘You goes up the bakken. Up, ja . Until you get to by . Many huse . Yes, then you turning to right to find bank.’
    I’ll just head for the town and ask again.
    Meanwhile his wife fusses