A Weekend at the Lake

Last summer Dani and his sister Rosa spent a weekend at a lake. They took the train early on Saturday morning, since the road was invariably clogged with traffic at weekends. The journey was half the pleasure: an hour of fields and sleepy stations, with the lake flashing between the trees at the very end. A small hotel stood at the water’s edge, and three wooden boats were moored in front of it.

On arrival they left their bags at the hotel and walked into the village to buy provisions. They chose bread, cheese and fruit with great deliberation, and the shopkeeper wrapped everything in brown paper. Before heading back, Rosa bought a postcard to send to their grandmother, who had always wanted to see the lake.

In the afternoon Dani rented one of the boats and rowed unhurriedly across the lake while Rosa took photographs and declared it the quietest place she had ever known. The water was so still that they lost track of time and stayed out for two hours. Then, almost without warning, dark clouds began to pile up above the hills.

The moment the first drops of rain fell, Dani turned the boat round and rowed back to the hotel as fast as he could. Rosa laughed out loud, although she was rather frightened, and they ran inside, soaked to the skin and giggling at the state of themselves, and ordered two mugs of hot chocolate.

By evening the rain had stopped. They sat on the terrace and watched the stars appear one by one. There were no cars and no noise, only the faint slap of water against the boats. “Next summer we’ll come back,” said Rosa, and Dani, who rarely made plans, found that he was already looking forward to it.