Midnight Sun Read Online Free PDF

its two hotplates. There was an orange wall cupboard, a red plastic bucket, two chairs and a table that leaned towards the west, either because it was crooked or because the floor was uneven.
    The cabin did have windows. The reason I hadn’t seen them was that they were just embrasures, narrow slits in all the walls except for the one with the door in it. But they let in enough light, and you could see anything approaching from every direction. Even when I walked the three steps from one end of the cabin to the other and felt the whole building wobble like a French coffee table, it didn’t change my initial conclusion: the cabin was perfect.
    I looked round and thought of the first thing Grandfather said when he had carried my trunk up to his house and unlocked it:
Mi casa es tu casa
. And even though I didn’t understand a word, I still guessed what it meant.
    â€˜Do you want coffee before you walk back?’ I asked nonchalantly as I opened the wood-burning stove. Fine grey ash blew out.
    â€˜I’m ten years old,’ Knut said. ‘I don’t drink coffee. You need wood. And water.’
    â€˜So I see. A slice of bread, then?’
    â€˜Have you got an axe? Or a knife?’
    I looked at him without replying. He looked up at the ceiling in response. A hunter with no knife.
    â€˜You can borrow this for the time being,’ Knut said, reaching behind his back and pulling out an enormous knife with a broad blade and a yellow wooden handle.
    I turned the knife in my hand. Heavy, but not too heavy, and nicely balanced. Pretty much the way a pistol should feel.
    â€˜Did you get this from your dad?’
    â€˜From Grandpa. It’s a Sámi knife.’
    We agreed that he would gather wood while I fetched water. He evidently liked being given a grown-up task, and grabbed the knife back and ran out. I found a loose plank in the wall. Behind it, between the two walls, was a sort of insulation made of moss and turf, and I pushed the money belt into that. I could hear the sound of steel against wood from the clump of trees as I filled the plastic bucket in the stream that ran just a hundred metres from the cabin.
    Knut put some kindling and bark in the stove while I cleared the mouse shit from the cupboard and put the food away. I lent him my matches and before long the stove was alight and the kettle was hissing. Some smoke leaked out, and I noticed that the midges were holding back. I took the opportunity to take my shirt off and splash some water from the bucket on my face and upper body.
    â€˜What’s that?’ Knut asked, pointing.
    â€˜This?’ I said, taking hold of the dog tag hanging round my neck. ‘Name and date of birth engraved on bombproof metal, so they know who they’ve killed.’
    â€˜Why would they want to know that?’
    â€˜So they know where to send the skeleton.’
    â€˜Ha, ha,’ he said drily. ‘
Doesn’t
count as a joke.’
    The hissing of the kettle was replaced by a warning rumble. As I filled one of the two chipped coffee cups, Knut was already halfway through his second thick slice of bread with liver pâté. I blew on the black, greasy surface of the coffee.
    â€˜What does coffee taste like?’ Knut asked with his mouth full.
    â€˜The first time’s always the worst,’ I said, and took a sip. ‘Eat up, then you’d better get going before your mum wonders where you are.’
    â€˜She knows where I am.’ He put both elbows on the table and leaned his head on his hands, pushing his cheeks up over his eyes. ‘Joke.’
    The coffee tasted perfect, and the cup warmed my hands. ‘Have you heard the one about the Norwegian, the Dane and the Swede, who had a bet to see who could lean furthest out of the window?’
    He took his arms off the table and stared at me expectantly. ‘No.’
    â€˜They were sitting on the windowsill. And suddenly the Norwegian won.’
    In the