Back at the cabin he chose Pia Mikkelsen to carry on. She hadn’t said much up to then and he wanted everyone to contribute.
It took her a while to get started, but there was no help to be had, either from Simonsen or any of the others, and her looks of appeal were in vain. Eventually, she collected herself.
‘We were all of us in awe of her, that was obvious from the start. She was everything we weren’t. Pretty, beautiful you could say, free and impulsive, English – from Liverpool, even – but most importantly she wanted to be with us. She was kind, and interested in all of us. It wasn’t what we were used to. Mouritz, for example, could hardly utter a word to her, he was so nervous. All he did was blush. Having to speak English didn’t make things any easier for him, especially having to speak to her… with her looks… if you understand what I mean?’
Simonsen nodded.
‘We sat out on the lawn. Or rather, not all of us, I don’t think…’
‘Jørgen and Helena were making dinner. Fried pork with parsley sauce and potatoes.’
Jesper Mikkelsen and his memory for detail.
‘That’s right, yes. But then he started talking about his dad’s firm, and what he was going to do after the holidays – as far as he was able in English, of course. He kept grinding to a halt, it was embarrassing, even more so than usual. But then Lucy laid her head in his lap, just like that, without saying anything. That didn’t help him one bit. I think he gave up after that. But it was like, exactly what he needed. He was so happy about it.’
Helena Brage Hansen took over.
‘Before we knew it, everything was revolving around her. No one was bothered about Maths any more, the exam didn’t seem to matter, only Lucy. It was almost as if she’d consumed us. Not because she wanted to, but because we did. It wasn’t like we had any formal arrangement or anything, but it tended to be me who had the deciding opinion if we couldn’t agree, only now we were all following this English girl who’d suddenly appeared out of the blue. She suggested we go for a walk before dinner and so we did, all of us together. We held hands. That was new to us. I know it sounds very innocent, but for us it was… I don’t know… exciting. A lot more interesting than fried pork and parsley sauce.’
Simonsen asked:
‘Did you talk about how long she was going to stay?’
‘Not as far as I remember. But she did put her tent up, so it was obvious she was staying the night, at least.’
‘Why didn’t she sleep inside? You had lots of room.’
Helena Brage Hansen shook her head. Everyone looked at Jesper Mikkelsen.
‘She wanted to sleep outside, it was the fresh air.’
Rather surprisingly for Simonsen, Hanne Brummersted continued of her own accord.
‘Obviously, we didn’t get any more revision done that day. In the evening she played the mouth organ and sang for us round the campfire. Now and then we sang together, all of us, and she taught us a couple of songs we didn’t know, lullabies, I think. At some point, not that late, she went off to bed. I think she was tired after the crossing. We tried to do a bit of revision afterwards, but no one could concentrate, so instead we decided to call it a day and get up early the next morning. I don’t recall anyone saying as much, but I think we all realised we weren’t going to get much done. Not once Lucy woke up anyway.’
Pia Mikkelsen cut in:
‘I much preferred to be with Lucy than to do Maths, and I’m sure the boys felt that way, too. It was pretty obvious to everyone.’
‘We all felt like that,’ Hanne Brummersted added, somewhat curtly, Simonsen thought, after having been interrupted.
‘Did you talk about her after she turned in for the night? Does anyone remember that?’ he asked.
They shook their heads. Even Jesper Mikkelsen had to pass, but couldn’t stop himself from firing back:
‘Why are you asking us that? It can’t be important, surely?’
Simonsen’s reply was sharp.
‘I ask, you answer. And why I ask is no concern of yours. You concentrate on telling the truth as best you can. Now it’s the next day, or so I assume. Tuesday the seventeenth of June. It might jog your memories to know that the weather in Esbjerg that day was typical Danish summer: occasional cloud, scattered showers in between the sunshine, nineteen degrees Celsius, a bit lower at the coasts. All in all, not the kind of weather to run around half-naked in. I’d like you to carry on.’
He pointed at Hanne Brummersted.
‘We all got up early and did revision until mid-morning. Lucy didn’t wake up until late. She had some breakfast and then she had a bath. I went with her and told her what to do. There was a kind of meter, you had to put a ten-øre coin in for the hot water, so we collected what we had. Not that she was scrounging or anything, she just didn’t have any change on her. Anyway, she had a bath and we carried on revising, but when she came out… that was when it started… she came into the dining room…’
Hanne Brummersted burst into tears.
‘I’m all right… it’s just difficult, that’s all,’ she said after a moment, struggling to get the words out between sobs. ‘She was naked. She just stood there with her pyjamas and underwear rolled up in a wet towel, like it was the most natural thing in the world. She asked what we were thinking of doing.’
‘Was she trying to provoke you? Perhaps test you in some way? Was it a joke?’
‘Not at all. It didn’t mean anything to her, but we all stared as if she’d suddenly grown another head. And the boys… it must have been beyond their wildest dreams.’
‘We’d all thought about it, I’m certain,’ Jesper Mikkelsen cut in. ‘But only in our wildest dreams, as you say.’
‘Well, there she was anyway, and when she realised we were looking at her… or gawping, more like… ogling even… she just laughed, and… I can’t remember her exact words, but we had to learn to be less modest, not to be shy, I think she said. And all of a sudden that was what the day was going to be about.’
‘And she decided that?’
‘We all did. We wanted to, just as much as she did.’
Helena Brage Hansen interrupted and went on:
‘We were unsure of ourselves, but at the same time it was tremendously exciting, and arousing in a sexual way. Now we had the chance to make up for everything our classmates had made sure never came our way, the way we looked at it, at least. It probably wasn’t like that at all. None of us had any real experience of sex, practically none at all, and we would never have been that… I don’t know, immodest, of our own accord. Lucy was the catalyst, but for her it was different, of course. More fun than sex.’
Simonsen pointed to Hanne Brummersted again.
‘Didn’t she realise the effect she was having on you?’
‘We thought she was a part of all the things we’d heard about. The free love, the hippie orgies, group sex. Things that were probably all just blown up by the newspapers to titillate their readers and boost their circulation. We were very naive. She was seventeen years old, for goodness sake, and couldn’t have had any idea what she was igniting inside us. None of us had a clue, and we certainly didn’t know when to stop.’
‘You took off your clothes. I’ve seen a photo Jørgen Kramer Nielsen took.’
‘It wasn’t something that happened right away. It was a line to cross, we had to work up the courage, especially the girls. None of us could compete with Lucy. Eventually, though, we were all naked together, walking about and trying to be proud of our bodies. The boys were, well, aroused, to begin with, but she just laughed about that, and we did, too, after a while. Gradually, there was a more natural feel about it. At one point the postman came with a parcel, a cake from Mouritz’s mum. We heard him coming up the drive on his moped, and we all went out to meet him just as we were, in the nude.’