“Could be.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Yes.”

The ferry trembled as if it had fallen asleep in the calm waters and been jolted awake. Passengers wrapped their coats more tightly around themselves.

“He would have been welcome,” Ringmar said.

Winter let go of his hair and placed his palms on the table.

“I read they’re looking for homosexual police in England,” Ringmar said.

“Do they want to take homosexual police and assign them new duties, or train homosexuals to be police?”

“Does it make any difference?”

“Sorry.”

“At least in England they realize that the police force needs to reflect the general population,” Ringmar said.

“That makes sense.”

“Who knows, maybe we’ll have some gay officers here one of these days.”

“Don’t you think we already do?”

“Ones who are willing to admit it, I mean.”

“After what I saw today,” Winter said, “I’m beginning to think that I would admit it if I were gay.”

“Hmm.”

“Maybe even before today. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I would have.”

“You’re probably right.” Ringmar’s face relaxed.

“You shouldn’t have to pretend to be somebody you’re not and carry all that guilt on your own shoulders.”

“I’m up to my ears in guilt.”

The people by the big windows looked like they didn’t know whether they should burst into song or drown their sorrows in drink.

Winter glanced outside as the ferry passed a lighthouse. “What do you say we go out on deck and greet the big city?” he asked.

“It’s cold out there,” Ringmar said.

“I need some fresh air.”

“I understand.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Don’t try my patience, Erik.”

The day was gray and about to lose its freshness. The car deck had the muted glint of coal, and the cliffs surrounding them now were the same color as the sky. It’s not so easy to tell where one ends and the other begins, Winter thought. Before you know it you’re in the kingdom of heaven. One false step off the cliff and there you are.