by Karen Swan
She watched him, sensing more. His relationship with his father was complicated – outright difficult, even. ‘It must have been hard, growing up with someone so . . . obsessed.’
His jaw pulsed, just once. ‘It would be hard to overstate what he was like.’ He glanced at her. ‘Especially because he never thought I’d amount to anything.’
She frowned. ‘But surely he must be overjoyed about your success with the book?’
He shook his head. ‘Art isn’t a real profession as far as he’s concerned. He believes in doing things.’
‘You mean like pulling potatoes from the ground and skating a hundred and twenty miles on any given Monday?’
He smiled at her gentle irony and squeezed her interlinked arm against his. ‘Exactly.’
In the distance, a gentle lowing could be heard starting up – strong, steady, continuous, growing . . .
‘Is that it?’ she whispered, feeling the hairs raise on her arms.
He nodded as they listened some more.
‘It’s sort of . . . ghostly. Like two ships passing in fog.’
‘Aha. Just wait.’
Sure enough, several moments later, another lowing started; this one was much closer, strong and sonorous.
‘God, it’s a powerful image, isn’t it?’ he deadpanned, bringing to both their minds the image of Evert standing on the edge of the well and blowing the two-metre-long elderwood horn.
They laughed again and she nestled her head on his shoulder as they pulled the blanket tighter and listened to the gentle back and forth between the horn-blows, passing from farm to farm across the region. Aggie had explained, in a brief pause between Evert’s diktats, that the farmers would do this every Sunday from the start of Advent until Epiphany, that it was a rural tradition. Something from the past reaching into the present – much like this race.
‘Tomorrow’s going to be a really big day, then,’ she murmured, returning to their previous conversation and clutching his arm tightly.
‘Biggest of my life,’ Sam said in a low voice, coming clean finally. ‘Unlike my father, I know this will be it – my one and only shot to wipe the slate clean and put this thing to bed for our family, once and for all.’ He looked at her, his eyes burning with an intensity she’d never seen in him before. ‘There’s not going to be anyone on that ice tomorrow who wants it more than me.’
She put her hand against his chest and felt the strong, rapid thump of his heart. ‘Then it’s already yours. All you’ve got to do is go get it.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
No one slept well – even Jasper was thrashing about for once, and Lee was too scared to drift off fully in case her nightmares came creeping upon her and she woke the household. She didn’t think she’d slept more than forty minutes at a time, all night, and was lying blinking in the dark when she heard the creaks coming from Sam’s room across the hall a little after half three, followed by the sound of retching and a toilet flushing.
Jasper stirred, his face flushed with what she called ‘sleep heat’; she always said he was her little heat stone in bed, radiating warmth. She snuggled into him, scooping her body around his and smelling his hair. It was enough to begin to lift him from sleep and she felt the realization of which day it was enter his body, his muscles tensing fractionally as his mind began to shift into consciousness too. ‘Is it morning?’ he whispered in the dark room.
‘For today it is,’ she whispered back; any other day it would count as the middle of the night.
She was able to just make out the muffled sounds of a radio coming through the floorboards. Aggie was up now too, moving about in the kitchen, feeding the dogs it seemed. Jasper wriggled over to the side of the bed to check that his pillowcase banner was where he’d left it, neatly rolled on the floor. She still wasn’t allowed to look at it. ‘Can I see Sam?’
‘Let him get ready first. He’s probably going to be nervous and a bit . . . distracted, so don’t bombard him with questions, okay? Let’s get ready too. That way we won’t be holding anyone up if we want to go in the car with them.’
They were downstairs twenty minutes later, the world outside the windows still shrouded in darkness, the farmhouse kitchen a beacon of light in the sleeping landscape. There was no welcoming fire – there was no point, when they were all going to be out within the hour – but the homely smells more than made up for that: coffee, porridge and spiced buns, more milk for Sam. He was at the table, already piling into a large bowl of porridge as his father sat opposite him like a police officer, drilling him again on all the various technicalities of the course. In spite of a prohibition order which had been brought in several days earlier, stopping people from skating on the canals to preserve the ice, there were several kulning points where the ice was too thin to permit mass skating and the racers would have to walk the stretch until the next good patch of ice. There might be only three hundred skaters in the race pack, but the organizers were anticipating 16,000 amateurs following in their wake. Safety was paramount.
Sam looked waxy pale, with dark moons cradled under his eyes. Had he slept at all? ‘Hey,’ he said, looking cheered by their arrival, but there was no disguising his exhaustion, nor his nerves. It was clear he didn’t want to be eating anything – he had to almost grimace with every swallow to force the food down – but he knew a six-hour-plus skating marathon couldn’t be done on sheer will and nerves alone.
‘Good morning,’ Aggie said brightly. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Brilliantly,’ Lee lied. ‘I’d say I didn’t move all night but I had to keep dodging Jasper’s flailing arms and legs. It was like sleeping next to the spaghetti monster,’ she said, ruffling his hair.
Aggie laughed. ‘Coffee?’
‘Yes please.’
‘Jasper, some hot chocolate for you?’ Aggie asked, already holding up the jug of hot milk.
He nodded happily.
‘And porridge for you both? You’ll need fuel to keep you warm standing out in the cold.’
‘Great, thanks.’
Aggie brought over their bowls as Lee settled at the end of the table, Jasper pointedly going and sitting beside Sam.
‘You’ll see my banner today,’ he said, clambering onto the chair.
‘I can’t wait,’ Sam said tiredly, mussing his still-crazy bed hair.
‘You can’t see it before the race, though. It’s got to be a surprise.’
‘Then knowing I’m going to see your banner will make me skate faster.’ He looked back at Lee. ‘Where are you going to stand? So I know where to look.’
Lee saw Evert’s head snap up at the comment; he had ceased with his drills and tactics in their presence and had been staring into his empty bowl of porridge. Clearly he didn’t think Sam should either have time – or such inadequate focus – to be looking for them.
She dragged her gaze back to Sam. ‘Well, you tell me. This is your neck of the woods. I imagine the crowds are going to be horrendous in the towns.’
He groaned. ‘And Leeuwarden in particular will be the worst, as the start and finish point. I doubt you’d see anything there either – nice though it would be to have you there; you’d probably be better off watching on TV here.’ He thought for a moment, an idea coming to him suddenly. ‘Hey.’ He looked back at Jasper. ‘You could stand in the exact same spot where I cheered on my papa.’
‘Yes!’ Jasper hissed excitedly. ‘Can we, mama?’
‘Sure. Just tell us where to go.’
‘It’s an ideal spot,’ Sam said. ‘You can walk it from here, but it’s about two miles from the finish, on a particularly isolated stretch, so you won’t get the crowds there.’ He looked down at Jasper again. ‘Which means I’ll be able to really see and hear you.’
Jasper drummed his heels excitedly against the chair leg, make Aggie laugh and Evert scowl.
‘Okay. So go out of the back door and down the grass to the water’s edge. You can go on the ice there, of course; turn right and keep going until you pass under the little bridge
. Keep going about another five minutes after that and you’ll see the junction to the Bonkevaart canal. It is much wider there, like a highway. You will be able to see us coming for hundreds of metres. Bear right and when you see three windmills in a row, with a single one opposite, right on the water’s edge, that is the spot. There’s a small jetty on the left where you can stand. The grasses are really long, higher than your head. And it’s far from the roads at that section, which is why it’s quieter.’
‘That’s where we’ll be,’ Jasper said determinedly. ‘And I’ll have my banner so you can extra see me.’
Lee smiled as she ate her porridge. ‘Hear that? You’ve got to extra see him, Sam.’
He managed to wink at her, something not missed by either of his parents and eliciting very different responses in both. Evert cleared his throat and placed his hands flat on the table. It appeared to be a statement of intent – the time for chitter-chatter was over.
‘The wind is westerly today – I’ve already been out and checked – and it’s milder than they forecast. I know they said minus three, but it’s minus one already and if that wind doesn’t turn, then you mark my words, that thaw will be coming today, not tomorrow. You’ll need to be fast. You remember ’85.’
Sam nodded, looking grim.
‘What happened in ’85?’ Lee asked.
‘It was three degrees that day and the ice began to thaw. They had to stop the race prematurely,’ Aggie said, with a roll of her eyes as she set down a plate of hot spiced buns.
‘Oh.’
Evert looked at Jasper, staring at him with stony eyes. ‘Do you know what they called the ’63 race, boy?’
‘His name’s Jasper,’ Sam said quietly, pausing eating.
Evert’s eyes slid from his son’s back to Jasper’s again. ‘Well? Do you?’
Jasper timidly shook his head.
‘The Hell. Only sixty-nine out of ten thousand competitors finished it. They had to deal with temperatures of minus eighteen, drifting snow, an east wind. Reinier Paping, the man who won it, could not even see the finish line because he was snow blind! He became a national hero. That’s what it takes.’
Jasper looked terrified and Lee knew he had visions of a blinded, wildly flailing man in a snowstorm.
Sam saw his expression too and pushed his porridge bowl away. ‘Hey Jasper, I’ve got a better story than that. Do you know what happened in the ’56 race?’
He shook his head warily.
‘There was a lead pack of five skaters and they made a pact, and all skated over the line with their arms linked. The organizers were so furious, they disqualified them and awarded the prize to the man who came sixth. But then he refused to accept it! So that year they ended up with no winner being declared at all.’ Sam widened his eyes. ‘What do you think of that?’
Jasper considered for a moment. ‘I think it sounds nice they were friends.’
Sam beamed. ‘It does, doesn’t it? All of them skating across the line together . . .’ He looked back at him. ‘I wish I could take you across the line with me.’
Jasper gasped, ready to say he could – he absolutely could – but Evert’s hand slammed down on the table as he leapt up so roughly his chair toppled back on the floor.
‘This is no time for sentiment! Do you think this chance will ever come again? Do you think this is just an ordinary day?’
The briefly bright, light moment disappeared like a bubble on a blackthorn. Sam sat back and eyed his father, history a current that flickered and flared between them. ‘No,’ he said evenly. ‘I do not think it is that.’
Neither man spoke for several moments, the air dark with a storm about to break. Confrontation could turn into conflict in one stroke, one wrong word . . .
Then Evert turned and looked straight at Lee, cold fury in his eyes. ‘This was a mistake. You should not have come.’ And before anyone could react, he strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Sam threw his chair back too, scraping it so loudly against the floor that even the dogs flinched. But Lee put her hand on his, stopping Sam from going after him. ‘No, don’t,’ she said quickly, soothing him with her low voice, steady nerve. ‘I’m fine. Focus on you.’
She had seen last night what this race meant to him. He couldn’t go into it distracted by events here. She didn’t need him to defend her and risk triggering something bigger between him and his father. She squeezed his hand, encouraging him to let it go.
Slowly, reluctantly, seeing the determination in her eyes, Sam sat back down again. Lee picked up her spoon and began eating her porridge, outwardly calm. But her heart was pounding like a monkey’s drum. She already knew that when today was done, she never wanted to see that bloody man ever again.
Lee stared in amazement – bright stadium lights had been set up alongside this initial stretch of the canal, drenching the crowds in a glaring, alien light. Dawn was still several hours away yet. Banks of television cameras from broadcasters all over the world were trained on the start line, a crowd five deep along either side of the waterway for as far as anyone could see. The noise level was deafening, people shouting and cheering and laughing as they waited impatiently for the impossible to happen; an entire generation had grown up hearing about the iconic event, whilst being told it couldn’t possibly happen again in this rapidly heating world. The ice needed to be six inches thick all the way along the 120-mile course, and since 1997 there had been a couple of almost-rans – most notably the crashing disappointment of 2012, when the ice grew to a depth of almost ten inches in most places, but was only a dangerous one inch in the westernmost point of Stavoren. Lee was bemused to find she was fast becoming an expert on the subject.
‘Oh my God,’ she said, as Sam held the car door open for her and she climbed out. She and Jasper had sat in the back with Aggie, while Sam and Evert were up front. She slowly turned a full circle, taking in the sight.
‘I know. You can imagine what it would have been like here last night,’ Sam said, looking drawn.
‘What happened here last night?’
‘Nacht van Leeuwarden. One massive street party. You’ve heard the saying? Frisians only thaw when it freezes.’
She smiled. ‘Funny.’ She looked around at the vast crowds again. ‘This is even madder than I thought it’d be.’
‘Yeah.’
She looked back at him, hearing the slant in his voice. ‘Feeling okay?’ She reached for his hand.
‘Mm-hmm.’ But he looked tense, the fibres in his body coiled. He kept stretching out his neck, rolling his shoulders back. She saw him glance back at his father, who was already talking animatedly with some officials, receiving some back slaps and handshakes as he was recognized not as an ‘also-ran’ or ‘sore loser’, but as a silver medallist; his chest was puffed, his chin held high. Sam looked away again, jaw pulsing, and she knew their argument in the kitchen was sitting within him still; as it was her. But this wasn’t the time. For his family’s sake, he had to put this ghost to rest, and that meant staying focused.
She put a hand to his cheek. ‘You’re ready. Don’t think about anything else. Just remember why you’re doing this.’
He looked back at her, his eyes swimming with emotion far closer to the surface than she had expected, his raw relationship with his father like a festering wound.
Jasper bum-shuffled out of the car, looking tired. It was five fifteen in the morning and no matter how bright the lights, no matter how large the crowd, it was still the middle of the night to his little body.
Sam squeezed his shoulder. ‘Jasper, got the banner, buddy?’
He held it up proudly as Sam dropped down onto his heels to be at eye level with him.
‘Great. I’m going to be looking out for that when I get to Bonkevaart, so wave it like mad, okay?’
‘I will.’
Sam held his hand up for a high five and they slapped palms, before Jasper threw his arms around his neck. ‘Please win.’
‘. . . I’ll do my
best.’ He winked and rose to standing again, looking back at the registration area. The competitive racers had their own private registration tent, but with 16,000 amateurs following on behind them, the spectacle was just like a road marathon, with countless nervous, restless, warming-up bodies everywhere.
A cheer went up and they all turned to see Ard Langen, the favourite for the title, being interviewed, his lean, pinched face filling the screen. Sam sighed, watching on impassively as the interviewer asked about his Olympic Games success in PyeongChang.
Lee touched Sam’s arm and he looked back.
He blinked. ‘Right, well, I guess I’d better get over there and get my bib on.’
‘Can’t wait to see you in your skating suit,’ she teased in a low voice, one eyebrow arched provocatively.
‘Oh, it’s a real treat,’ he laughed, his nervous tension slackening momentarily, leaning over and kissing her on the lips. She remembered only as they pulled apart that Jasper was standing there, watching. It was yet another rule broken – no PDAs in front of her child – but when she looked down, he was smiling up at them.
‘Okay, go, go,’ she said quickly. ‘We’ll watch you set off, then head back home with your mother. Your father’s definitely staying here all day, yes?’ The last thing she needed was to be around him any longer than was strictly necessary.
Sam gave a weary sigh. ‘I’m half-expecting him to run alongside me, shouting instructions the whole way round.’
Lee laughed again. Frankly it wouldn’t surprise her either. ‘And we’ll get in position where you told us, in about five and a half hours from now?’
He nodded. ‘No one’s going to be passing sooner than that.’
She smiled, seeing the nervousness in his eyes. ‘You’re going to be great. I can feel it.’ He nodded, his hand slipping from hers as he stepped into the crowd, looking just like another spectator in his thick layers. She watched him go – her own heart pounding at the sight of his nerves – until he was out of sight, then looked back at Jasper.
It was just the two of them again. Funny how that felt . . . diminished now. Like something was missing. ‘Okay. Well, let’s see if we can find somewhere to stand where you can see something.’ He would barely come to waist-height of most of the people in the crowd. ‘Just keep holding my hand. These are big crowds and we don’t want to become separated,’ she said, gripping his mittened hand more tightly in hers as they left the competitors’ car park and became a part of the human swell. News forecasters had estimated three million people had travelled to Friesland in the past two days and surely a third, if not half that number, were right here; the race started and finished in this town and right now it felt like the epicentre of the universe.
