He arrived in the late afternoon aboard a research ship. It was raining. Grey, gloomy and not particularly warm. The ship had docked farther from town than he remembered.

He had been here several times before and knew some of the streets, the harbour and a beach where they brought in palm trees for the summer. He had always found that amusing.

That evening, after work, he took his camera and went into town. There were more people around than he expected. It was Friday, so that probably explained it. The town felt different this time. Less welcoming, perhaps. He couldn't say why.

He noticed the mannequins again. There were a lot of clothing shops for such a small place, and nearly every window had a few. Some stood alone, others in groups, wearing whatever the season required. At night, with the shop lights on, some of them almost seemed to be watching him.

He couldn't remember seeing so many mannequins anywhere else.

Most days he worked long hours aboard the ship. There was plenty to do, and some of it was more complicated than it needed to be. Years of working with computers had taught him that almost anything involving a screen could eventually become his problem.

Sometimes the computer was merely displaying the problem. It hadn't caused it. That distinction wasn't always appreciated.

When he could, he went walking in the evenings. He liked being able to turn down an unfamiliar street or sit somewhere for a while without having to explain himself.

One evening he found a park with a pond, some exotic birds in a cage and a small outdoor stage. A man sat alone on the stage, drinking a beer and looking at his phone. There was nobody watching him.

On another evening he went to the beach. The palm trees were still there, looking rather out of place along the Baltic coast.

He sat on a stone beside the sea. The sky was turning pastel. It was nice. Not quite as nice as he had expected.

After a few days he became ill. A cough, a headache and very little sleep. He hardly went anywhere for several evenings. Sometimes he stood outside on deck and watched the harbour.

There were also difficult conversations and questions he couldn't answer, mostly away from the ship.

Eventually he felt well enough for a longer walk. He went towards the beach, past the marina and the little holiday huts. Among the bushes he found old wartime bunkers and an anti-aircraft gun.

A man was swimming naked in the sea. A dog waited patiently on the jetty. Two women arrived, apparently heading for the same spot. They saw the man and stopped.

He left them to it.

By the time he got back to the ship, he wasn't sure he'd enjoyed the walk. Still, it was good to be outside again.

The weather changed often. Some mornings the harbour looked beautiful, especially when the water was calm. On other days it was grey, wet and unpleasant.

There was a small metal tree with children's pacifiers attached to its branches. Perhaps people left them there for luck. He wasn't sure.

He sometimes wondered why certain things caught his attention. There didn't seem to be any particular reason.

There was also a restaurant sign, red, large and difficult to ignore. He was shooting black-and-white film.

So whatever.

One Saturday afternoon he walked along a path beside the industrial harbour, about as wide as a car. On one side were rocks and the sea. On the other was a fence, with several large old ships and shipyard buildings behind it.

The place looked almost abandoned, but it was Saturday and nobody seemed to be working.

He had bought two cans of Danish beer. He found a bench and opened one. Behind him, wind turbines were turning steadily.

A middle-aged man sitting alone beside the sea, drinking a Danish beer in late September.

It could be worse.

It could certainly be better.

After a while he walked to the end of the path, where a few people were fishing. A ferry appeared in the distance, heading towards the harbour.

On the way back he stopped beneath one of the turbines. Up close, the noise was surprisingly loud.

Several buildings in town were advertised for rent. Perhaps the town was changing. Perhaps it had always been like that.

He passed a second-hand bookshop with an unusual collection of books about the Second World War. There was quite a lot of wartime history around here. Old bunkers, guns and military structures. He didn't know much about it.

He was curious about the people he passed too. Where they were going, what they did for a living or whether they had always lived here.

Aboard the ship there was Fred.

Fred (aka Dead Fred) was a training dummy used for rescue exercises. He had one leg and hung in the science hangar. Nobody seemed particularly concerned about his condition.

He had seen another Fred at an Antarctic research station. That one seemed to have an easier life. During winter he was left sitting on a sofa in one of the buildings.

Indoors, at least.

Both were called Fred. There might be more of them. He suspected there were.

A few days later the ship's Fred disappeared. Apparently he had been used for an exercise, but nobody knew where he had ended up.

Fred was somewhere.

The evenings were getting darker. Sometimes he was too tired to go anywhere after work. Ten minutes outside on deck was enough.

Once he saw a crew member fishing. The man had caught a mackerel. Nearby, a small female doll stood on some control boxes. He had no idea why she was there.

The mannequins in town had changed their clothes. The women were wearing hats now.

It must be autumn.

He came across a skeleton sitting at a computer, its hands resting on the keyboard. It reminded him of those old pictures of exhausted office workers, completely fed up with their jobs.

It seemed only fair to give the fellow some attention.

Back in his cabin, he played some bass.

Towards the end of his stay, the ship moved to another berth, closer to town.

A lot had happened during the month. Most of it wouldn't have been obvious to anyone passing him in the street.

On the final evening he went into town to buy some chocolates. It was dark, and on the way back it started raining.

There were still rumours about Fred. He was somewhere aboard, apparently. Nobody knew where.

The following morning the sun was shining.

There was another problem with the electrical supply, followed by a routine emergency drill. Everyone put on life jackets and gathered in the emergency boat. A young crew member read out the instructions. The boat never went into the water.

Later, the ship left.

He stood outside and watched the land as they moved away. First the shipyard, with its cranes and old vessels. Then the buildings, the town and the wind turbines farther along the coast.

He recognised some of the places he had walked through in the evenings.

The ship continued out to sea.