The Summer Book by Tove Jansson Read Free Book Online

little.”
    “When? What pig? What did you say it was called?”
    “Oh, nothing,” Grandmother said. “One time when your father was little, about your age.”
    “He’s big,” the child said, and started cleaning the sand out from between her toes. They each fell silent. After a while, Grandmother said, “Right now he thinks I’m asleep under that umbrella.”
    “But you’re not,” Sophia said. “You’re down here sneaking a cigarette.”
    They picked out stones that hadn’t been worn completely round and threw them out into the water to make them rounder. The sun moved on across the sky, and the boat came around the point and took up the nets and dropped them right back in again.
    “The fishing’s bloody awful,” Grandmother said.
    “Listen,” Sophia said. “I don’t have time to stay here with you – I’ve only been swimming twice today. You won’t be sad now, will you?”
    “I want to go too,” Grandmother said.
    Sophia thought for a moment and said, “All right; you can come too. But only where I tell you.”
    They helped each other climb out of the canyon, and then they circled around the hill so as not to be seen. Off to one side of the channel marker, there was a large, deep pool.
    “Is this all right?” Sophia asked.
    “It’s fine,” Grandmother said. She bared her legs and stuck them into the pool. The water was warm and pleasant. Some light brown muck swirled up to the surface, along with a swarm of tadpoles, but they quickly settled down again. She spread her toes and stuck her legs farther in. There was a big clump of loosestrife where the pool narrowed towards one end, and the granite was streaked with yellow sedum growing in the crevices. Papa had built a fire at the other end of the island, and the smoke rose straight up in the air.
    “In all the years I’ve sailed around in these islands,” Grandmother said, “I don’t think it’s ever been this calm before. There was always some wind. He never went out unless there was a storm. We had a spritsail. He’d sail the boat and I’d keep watch for the spar markers in the dark. I hardly had time – ‘north spar,’ I’d say, and then ‘west spar’ – they went by so fast. And one time when the rudder came loose …”
    “You fixed it with a hairpin,” Sophia said.
    Grandmother swished her legs in the pool and didn’t say anything.
    “Or maybe it was a safety pin,” Sophia went on. “Some days I can’t remember exactly. But who was he? ”
    “Your grandfather, of course,” Grandmother said. “My husband.”
    “Are you married?” Sophia cried in astonishment.
    “Bloody nitwit,” Grandmother muttered to herself. Out loud she said, “You better ask your father about generations and all that. Ask him to draw it on a piece of paper. If you’re interested.”
    “I don’t think so,” said Sophia amiably. “I’m a bit busy right now.”
     
    The channel marker was a high wall of well-spaced, horizontal planks, like a section of picket fence turned on end. It was painted white, with a red triangle in the middle. The distance from one plank to the next was so great that Sophia’s legs just barely reached, and after each step her knees began to shake – not much, just enough so that she had to wait until they stopped. Then came the next rung. Sophia had made it almost to the top before Grandmother saw her. Grandmother realised right away that she mustn’t scream. She would have to wait for the child to come back down. It wasn’t dangerous. Children have a lot of ape in them: they’re good climbers and never fall unless they’re startled.
    Sophia was climbing very slowly now, with long pauses between steps, and Grandmother could see she was scared. The old woman stood up too quickly. Her walking stick rolled down into the pool, and the whole rock became an uncertain, hostile surface, arching and twisting in front of her. Sophia took one more step.
    “You’re doing fine,” Grandmother called. “You’re