‘There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ she asked, tucking the thick linen sheets back into the side of the bed, holding him firmly. The little red Corvette car was on his bedside table; he’d put it in his pocket whilst they went exploring, his fingers running over it nervously like a lucky charm as he and his father exchanged their first words.
Linus stared back at her, his hair splaying on the pillow. ‘Not as bad as last time.’
‘Exactly.’ She sat on the side of the bed and smiled down at him. ‘So what do you think about him now?’
He shrugged.
‘I think he seems nice enough,’ she said lightly, still aware of the small vibration in her bones at the way he’d talked to her earlier. But it wasn’t up to her to make this relationship work, only to allow it space to grow – safely. ‘He found that nice-shaped stone on the way back for you.’
‘He thought it looked like a mammoth’s tooth.’
She heard the wry note in his voice. ‘Didn’t you?’
‘No. Anyway, it’s babyish looking for stones. I’m ten, not two.’
‘Well,’ she sighed. ‘Give him a chance. At least he’s trying. It’s bound to take him a while to get used to how big you are. Remember, for him, you were only two when he saw you last.’
They were both quiet, the enormity of what had happened – what had been taken, from both father and son – settling upon them.
‘I – I don’t know what to call him.’ Linus’s voice was hesitant. ‘I don’t care what Mamma says. He’s not my pappa and he never will be.’
She smoothed a hand over his hairline again. ‘No, of course not. No one’s expecting you to let him take Max’s place.’ She gave a sad smile, looking into those anxious green eyes which were usually so clear. ‘Don’t worry, little man, it will all become apparent in the fullness of time. Just do what feels right for you. Emil is a grown-up. He knows this can’t be rushed.’
She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, smoothing his hair gently. ‘Sleep tight, okay? I’m just on the other side of that wall if you need me.’
‘You won’t leave me here?’ he asked as she got to the door.
‘Never. We’re a team, dude.’ She winked. ‘Where you go, I go. No exceptions.’
She closed the door with a soft click and hesitated on the landing, not sure where to go next. She wasn’t a guest in this house, but staff. She wasn’t expected to dine with him, although frankly, after the things he’d said to her earlier, she’d rather choke on her dinner than eat it with him, anyway.
There was no wifi on the island, so she’d have to go old-school. There had been books in the library, although they were the gilt-edged sort no one ever read. She’d spotted paperbacks in the snug, though, that tiny room off the kitchen corridor at the back.
She moved downstairs and through the house quickly, silent in her bare feet. She could hear a voice coming from one of the larger salons, the door closed, and nipped into the small room. It felt so completely different in there, like an apartment contained within the house.
A jumper lay strewn over the navy sofa; a pair of boat shoes with the backs pushed down were under the coffee table. The room had a curious feeling to it, like it was backdated. The TV was an old floor-standing set, with a DVD player below it, and in the corner was a stacked hi-fi system with a radio, CD player, and even a turntable.
She headed straight for the bookcase and scanned the titles quickly. Swedish, English, she didn’t care, she just needed something to absorb her mind and help her forget that she was stranded here, trapped in a waking nightmare with the man she had hoped – and now truly wanted – to never see again.
‘Oh.’
She turned with surprise at the exclamation and saw him standing by the door, looking equally shocked, as though it was impossible to believe they should both be here.
‘Oh,’ she said back, struggling like him to regain her composure. ‘I wasn’t prying, I was . . . looking for something to read. Måns had said I could come in here.’
‘. . . Yes, it’s fine. Of course.’ He gave a nod and after another hesitation, walked in, sinking down into the sofa. ‘Feel free to go wherever you wish.’ His stiff manners now were in heightened contrast to their bitter argument earlier.
‘Thank you.’ She stood awkwardly, feeling the blood rush to her head and reaching for the first book her hand came to. ‘. . . Well,’ she said after another silence, ‘I’ve found something, so I’ll leave you in peace. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
His eyes fell to the book in her hands. ‘The Art of Angling. Really?’
‘Huh?’ She looked at it in dismay. Unbelievable.
‘A favourite of my father’s, to be sure,’ he said wryly, his head lolling against the back cushion. He looked drained. ‘But I’m sure there must be something there that’s more interesting to you than that.’
‘I . . . well . . .’ A large part of her wanted to insist that she liked angling, actually, just to naysay against him, but the reality of spending an evening looking at maggot-flies, carp and dogfish was too much to bear. She turned back to the bookcase again and replaced the volume hurriedly, her fingers tracing across spines for a suitable replacement. Anything. Anything at all that wasn’t angling . . .
‘Is he in bed?’ he asked to her back as she stood on tiptoe to read the titles on the higher shelves.
‘Yes.’
‘It seems early for a ten-year-old.’
‘He was exhausted. It’s been a very draining day for him.’ She desperately hoped he heard the barbs in her words. He should be ashamed of himself for the way he’d acted in the past twenty-four hours to Hanna, Linus. Her.
‘I wanted to go in and say goodnight, but I wasn’t sure if—’
‘No, he’ll be asleep already,’ she said tersely. ‘He could scarcely keep his eyes open.’ Couldn’t he see it was far too soon for fatherly kisses?
‘. . . Right.’
‘Your evening snack, sir.’ She looked over her shoulder as Måns came in with a tray. ‘Ah, Miss Bell, good evening.’
‘Good evening,’ she replied, looking at the contents of the tray: a thick shake, a ramekin of pills and a plate of Toast Skagen.
‘I don’t want it,’ Emil said in a low voice.
Måns lowered his chin as he dropped his voice too, innately understanding that they were trying to keep the conversation from her earshot. ‘You’re seven hundred calories down on your daily tally, owing to your missed lunch.’
‘I said, I don’t want it.’ He was speaking through clenched teeth, his gaze hard on the floor.
‘It’s doctor’s orders, I’m afraid, sir.’ Måns was equally firm within his signature deference.
Bell listened in embarrassment, but also interest. This wasn’t a usual staff–boss relationship. Måns was elderly and slow, but he was somehow also everywhere at the right moment, and implacably right.
With an angry sigh, Emil picked up the toast and began to eat, giving his valet a sarcastic ‘happy now?’ look as he chewed.
Måns nodded gratefully. ‘A drink, Miss Bell?’
‘No, thank you. I’m about to go to bed.’
‘Very good.’ He looked back at Emil. ‘Christer will be ready for you in ten minutes, sir.’
Emil just nodded, swallowing every mouthful with resentment.
Måns left the room as silently as he’d entered, and Bell hovered for a moment.
‘He seems very good.’
‘My father’s valet,’ he muttered. ‘He’s been with us for fifty-three years.’
So Måns had watched Emil grow up, then? He didn’t appear to want to talk about it. She changed the subject, feeling his hostility prickle through the room. ‘That’s a lot of CDs you’ve got there,’ she said, casting a bemused gaze over the multitude of discs set into a stacking tower.
‘Is it? It seems a normal amount to me.’
‘Yeah, I mean if . . . if that’s what you . . .’ He appeared to have missed the point. ‘Don’t you stream?’
He looked at her blankly. ‘. . . Oh yes, right. I keep forgetting. Streaming.’ The way he shook his head wearily, the wry note in his voice . . . she realized this was a new technology for him, one of the changes the world had shifted to whilst he’d been in the coma.
‘Yes, Spotify. Have you heard of it? It’s a Swedish company.’
‘I know. I think we own it.’ He tore off another bite of toast.
She gave an astonished laugh. ‘You think? You don’t even know?’
‘There’s been a lot . . . a lot to catch up on,’ he muttered. ‘Quite a lot happened while I was “away”. Instagram was a niche photo filter app when I left, and now it’s a global publishing phenomenon with content curated to every individual on the planet.’ He shrugged.
‘And are you going to buy that too?’ she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
He didn’t look at her. ‘We’re considering it.’
She laughed. ‘My God, who are you people?’ She shook her head as he looked over. ‘Don’t answer that. I don’t care.’
He frowned. ‘Not the usual response,’ he mumbled.
She leaned against the bookcase, intrigued. ‘So what else changed whilst you were “away”, then?’ She made speech marks in the air.
He thought about it as he chewed. ‘Well, let’s see . . . When I was hit, Obama was president. No one had heard about Islamic State . . . I was using an iPhone 5. Messi had just won the Ballon d’Or for the fourth time . . . Mandela was still alive. Prince was still alive.’ He looked down. ‘A lot of people were still alive when I went under.’
She remembered what he’d said about his father. Him too? ‘I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you, coming back and finding the world so changed.’
‘It was just one of the things I had to adapt to, like muscular atrophy,’ he said shortly, clearly not wanting her pity; not wanting any connection at all. He drank the shake in one long gulp, grimacing as he swallowed the last bit, staring at the empty glass like it owed him one.
‘Christer is ready.’ Måns was back at the door again.
‘Right.’ He sighed, handing back the empty plate. ‘Happy?’
‘Delighted, sir.’
He looked back at Bell stiffly, his green eyes still low-simmering with anger and resentment. ‘Well, goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’ She felt herself loosen as he left the room, taking all the air with him. She felt jarred and dislocated, rattled not just by his presence but by his absence too, her eyes lingering on the space he had just occupied as though he had warmed the air. She looked away abruptly, feeling a tangled knot of emotions in her stomach. Why him? Why did it have to be him? Would he still have an effect on her if Midsommar’s had never happened? She had hardly fallen at his feet outside Westerbergs, after all.
Then again, he had kept himself largely hidden behind his cap and glasses then, and she wasn’t sure she could ever be unmoved by his eyes and the depths she saw in them. There was a hairline fracture that drew a jagged line all the way through him, and she recognized it because there was one running through her too. They were both haunted by their own pasts, hollowed out by loss, and that made them kindred spirits on one level – even if on this one, they were bitterly opposed.
She remembered his face at her words, the flash of pain amid the anger. ‘It was a mistake.’ They had been the right words to say, because they were true – it was a mistake.
Unfortunately, just not one she regretted.
She awoke with a start, glancing round the room in a panic, trying to get her bearings. It took a moment to remember where she was. She was lying on top of the bed, still dressed, and the paperback thriller was still in her hand; she had fallen asleep mid-sentence. Linus wasn’t the only one who’d been drained by the day’s revelations.
She closed the book and stretched, her neck feeling stiff from the odd angle, seeing her phone flash with notifications. She picked it up – eight messages from Hanna checking on their day, a barely subdued note of panic in each one.
Quickly Bell replied, doing her best to reassure her boss, which meant omitting the fact that Emil had – unbelievably – not even bothered to be there to greet them. ‘Sorry, been a busy day. Lots of exploring the island, found the hidden beach. Initial meeting with E was fine. L quiet and shy but to be expected tbh. E didn’t push it and was quite light touch, thankfully. L now fast asleep after a good dinner. Shall I get him to text you in the morning? Bx’
All the lights were still on in the room, her windows open, and she saw moths were fluttering in, the ceiling speckled with dozens of tiny thunder bugs. She got up and closed the shutters, keeping the windows open to allow for a breeze. It was a sticky night.
What had disturbed her? she wondered. Was Linus awake? She stood still for a moment and listened for a sound coming through the wall. She could hear something, like voices whispering, but it was coming from the hallway. Was he going to the bathroom? Sleepwalking?
She opened the door and peered out through the crack. Linus’s door beside hers was still closed, everything silent and dark behind it, but down the far end of the corridor she could make out shapes. She opened the door a little wider and frowned as she saw someone being half walked, half dragged. His legs kept buckling, his head dropping down, and the man with him was struggling to hold his arm around his neck.
‘Come on, Emil. We’re nearly there,’ the man was panting. ‘Lock those knees, buddy.’
She watched as he bent forward awkwardly to open the door at the farthest end of the hall, and they staggered in together.
Bell closed her door again, her heart racing; she had a sense she had seen something she shouldn’t have. Had Emil collapsed? Was he physically frail? He was lean for his frame, but he’d seemed strong enough to her that night they’d spent together. More than strong –
Her phone beeped and she went back to check the message, already knowing it was Hanna.
‘Thank God! Been desperate all day. Hardest part is done then, hopefully. Yes, please get him to text when he’s awake. Send photo too if data will permit. Thanks Bell, for everything. Hx’
Bell scrolled quickly through the photos she had taken that day, mainly of Linus playing in the room as they had waited for Emil’s arrival, their exploration through the gardens. There had been none taken at the hidden beach, of course . . . She was sending one of Linus playing with the red Corvette when the sound of footsteps on the treads again made her lift her head. She ran back and peered out just in time to see the same man jogging back down the stairs. She hesitated, then followed after. She was here to protect Linus, after all; she needed to know if there was anything happening that might affect him. Emil couldn’t collapse if they were all out together, not in front of Linus . . .
The man had disappeared into one of the smaller rooms at the back of the house, opposite the grand spaces of the formal salons.
‘Excuse me?’ She stopped outside the door of the room, the gym. The man was inside, rolling up some mats. Weights and kettlebells were scattered everywhere; a heavy-looking battle rope lay, anaconda-like, on the floor.
‘Hmm? Oh, hi!’ He got up with an athletic bounce and came over, his muscular arm outstretched. ‘You must be the nanny? I’m Christer, the physio.’
‘Yes, I’m Bell. Pleased to meet you.’
He had his hands on his hips. ‘I heard you guys were coming today.’ He gave a grin. ‘It’s been a big deal, all he’s talked about for months. How did it go? He was pretty quiet tonight.’
‘Oh. Well. Yes, very well, I think. Under the circumstances.’ She bit her lip. ‘It’s not an easy thing, for anyone.’ Did he pick up on the serrated edge of her words?
‘You’re telling me. I don’t know how he’s got through all this.’ Christer shook his head in admiration. ‘Every time he was told he couldn’t do something, he went and did it. When the docs said he’d walk with a limp, he trained his left side twice as hard to counteract it. And in the weights room, when we were trying to reverse the physical atrophy and spasticity, he went longer and harder than anyone there had ever seen. You’d never be able to tell it now.’
‘No?’
‘Uh-huh. He’s got grit, I’ll give him that. I only wish my other clients would take a leaf out of his book. He’s the miracle, I keep telling him. He’s the One Guy, you know, the one in a million chance. He’s the One.’
‘And is he okay? Now, I mean?’ She gave a worried smile as he looked at her, a little confused. ‘It’s just that I was in my room just now and thought I heard something, and I saw him being carried –’
‘Ah yeah,’ Christer grinned, batting away her concern with a bear paw. ‘Don’t worry about that. Looks worse than it is. He often does that – works himself to his absolute limits.’
‘To the point of collapse?’
‘Yep. He just won’t stop.’
‘But surely you can make him?’
‘I can tell you’re new here,’ Christer laughed. ‘Listen, if there’s one thing you’ll find, it’s that no one can make Emil Von Greyers do anything he doesn’t want to do. He’s a stubborn bastard when he wants to be; but people need to understand that what might make him difficult to be around at times is also what helped him recover to this point. You can’t have one without the other.’ He shrugged.
‘He’s difficult – how?’
‘Well, not sleeping doesn’t help his general mood, for starters,’ he commented, rolling elastic bands around the mats to hold them in place as tubes.
‘He doesn’t sleep?’
‘Barely. Well, would you want to, after what he’s been through?’
She pulled a face. Maybe not.
‘And it would sure help if he could just eat something he can taste. He keeps losing weight because he doesn’t want to eat.’
‘He’s lost his sense of taste?’
‘And smell.’
‘Oh.’
He glanced across at her as he replaced the dumbbells onto the racks in weight order. ‘You didn’t know all this?’
She shook her head. ‘Not much beyond he was hit by a car and in a coma for seven years, to be honest.’
‘Pfft.’ Christer frowned. ‘Well, the poor guy’s had a lot more to deal with than just learning to get strong again, I can tell you that.’
‘Like what else?’ she prodded, and then, seeing his expression, added, ‘This isn’t nosiness. I’m Linus’s chaperone. I need to know what to expect so I can prepare Linus for it. The hospital visit immediately after Emil woke up went really badly. It did a lot of damage.’
‘Oh yeah, I heard about that incident from the nursing team.’
‘It was awful. He was shouting obscenities and thrashing and screaming.’
Christer watched her, hearing the judgement in her voice. ‘You know that’s an actual condition, right? Like, a medical thing, for people recovering from traumatic brain injuries?’
‘. . . No.’
‘Sure. Post-traumatic amnesia, it’s called. It’s common in post-coma patients waking up. They get very agitated, violent even, although they’re mainly a danger to themselves, of course. They don’t remember anything about it.’
‘Nothing?’
‘Usually the last couple of weeks before the injury, and the first few days of coming to, are completely wiped. Gone. No memory.’
‘And is that the case for Emil? He doesn’t remember any of it?’
‘’Fraid so. It’s a protective thing, I think. The brain protecting the body from the horror of those moments.’
She didn’t know what to say.
‘So what else can I tell you?’ he asked himself rhetorically. ‘Well, the headaches are pretty consistent, so that can make him grouchy. Bright light can be a problem sometimes, although hopefully that’ll improve.’
She nodded, remembering his cap, the sunglasses . . .
‘He’s pretty strong on balance now; we’ve been working on that a lot. Oh, but forgetfulness – remembering dates and things, but also struggling to find the right words sometimes, particularly if he’s stressed. On the other hand, he can also have no filter and be very direct. He’ll say things he probably shouldn’t, so warn his boy not to take offence.’
She nodded. Opportunity? Lust? Relief? . . . Both lonely and drunk on Midsommar’s night . . . That was it. Did they count?
‘I know he’s pretty normal to look at, and that’s what confuses people. They think because he’s walking and talking, it’s all done, that’s he’s better. But it’s a long road ahead for him still. He’s had to fight so hard just to get here.’ He threw a smile her way. ‘Which is why it’s so great his boy’s come to stay. He was motivated before, but I reckon he’ll be bionic now, if tonight was anything to go by.’
‘Great,’ she said, chewing on her cheek, realizing now why it had taken Hanna so long to work up the courage to tell him about Max, taking his dream – and motivation – away. How hard it must have been for him to hear it. ‘Well, thanks. I’ll . . . bear all of that in mind.’
‘No problem,’ he shrugged. ‘And good luck with your side of things. I hope the next few days go well. This place needs some life to it. A kid running about is exactly what’s been missing from here.’
‘You’re hiding from me.’
He looked back from his position on the balcony, hands clasped as he stared out over the city. Her hair was swept up, pearls at her throat. ‘Well, I’m afraid you’re far too beautiful to look at today. It’s like staring at the sun.’
She laughed, swishing her dress, oblivious to the cool night air. ‘So you really like it? You’re not just saying that?’
‘You look sensational.’
She stared at him and he felt his heart click into the gallop that came with meeting those eyes – but a shadow flashed behind them, almost immediately. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘You do think we’ve done the right thing, don’t you?’
He swallowed. ‘. . . Of course. There’s not a doubt in my mind. Why would you even ask it?’
She stared at him, swollen silences pushing her words apart. ‘You . . . you don’t think we’ve rushed into it? I mean, people don’t have to marry now, just because they’re having a baby. It’s not the Dark Ages.’
He smiled, sliding his hands into his pockets so that she couldn’t see them tremble. ‘This is only the beginning, Hanna. Just you wait and see.’
She smiled, her body relaxing at his words. Soothed. Comforted. Reassured.
Behind them, the band struck up the first notes of ‘You’re Beautiful’, prompting cheers from the dance floor.
‘Dance with me,’ she said, stepping forward, her hands reaching out. He straightened and put his hands on her waist, feeling her still-slender narrowness. She laced her arms round his neck as they moved softly to the music, the city lights winking beneath them, the sea dark and sleek beneath the night sky.
They moved away from the doors, away from the lights, the music diffusing through the thick walls as the guests caroused without them. They wouldn’t be missed for a while yet; there were so many people here, far more than he cared to count.
He closed his eyes, feeling the gentle sway of her body against his, the strictures of her corset beneath his fingers. Her skin smelled of gardenia and orange blossom. ‘Are you having fun?’ she murmured, her voice low and sweet against his ear.
‘Best day of my life.’
She pulled back to look at him, knowing it was a lie. He looked down into those eyes again. Smiling and questioning all at once; always.
‘Too many people,’ he conceded, giving a conciliatory shrug.
‘I know. I wish it could always be like this,’ she murmured, sliding in closer to him again, her breath warm against his neck. ‘This moment.’
He closed his eyes, wishing the same, as they danced in the moonlight, cheek to cheek.