Emilia knelt on Amber’s bed, resting on the headboard as she looked out of the window. It was nearing midnight and she couldn’t sleep. She’d been surprised to see that so many other people were up and about at this late hour.
Train tracks ran near Amber’s home, and the illuminated carriages showed many people on board. Emilia watched in fascination as trains passed in both directions. Multiple carriages, so many people.
At first she couldn’t understand why so many people were still awake. It was midnight. Most people in her tiny town were tucked up in bed at midnight.
Even on the street below, there were people out. Some were walking alone, some in pairs, or even groups. Some were eating from takeaway boxes, some on the phone.
Emilia watched all of them with fascination.
She’d always known that people outside Malmö lived different lives. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that everyone was just like her. She knew that Hugo was nothing like her, and her books told her a thousand tales of other worlds. But to see it with her own eyes, in borrowed pyjamas and overlooking the streets of Greater London, it was a revelation.
She’d counted over two hundred people in the past five minutes. Her guess was not quite accurate as the trains passing made it difficult to count, but she knew that there were at least two hundred people living other lives, lives that she couldn’t even begin to comprehend, just outside of Amber’s window.
It was starting to dawn on her just how small her world was.
Amber had looked at her like she was insane to think that she had been caught up in the terrorist attack. As if the mere facts that it happened in London and Amber lived and worked in London weren’t anywhere near enough to cause concern.
Apparently, terrorist attacks were a thing now. Not some nightmare creation of a crime author, but a reality that people lived through.
She wondered just how out of touch with the world she was. Cutting herself off from the hurt and horror of the outside world had seemed like a good idea all those years ago, but now she didn’t recognise the world she lived in.
It was like she had been released from a long stint in prison and was having to readjust to the outside world.
Maybe she was waking up from her self-enforced solitude.
Perhaps that was the reason that she’d taken the bizarre step to fly to London.
She leaned her head on the cold window. She couldn’t believe she’d boarded a plane with nothing but a chocolate bar in her pocket and assumed that she would be able to find Amber in a city of millions of people.
If the taxi driver had taken her to London Bridge, what would have happened to her? Where would she be now? Finding Amber had been a stroke of luck, nothing more. She’d taken a risk and somehow everything had worked out, but it just as easily could have been a disaster.
Her warm breath fogged up the window. She tried to contain the panic welling within her.
Sheer dumb luck had taken her to Walker Clay and into Amber’s arms. And thank goodness, because without Amber’s kindness, she didn’t know where she would have ended up.
Amber would have been perfectly within her rights to turn her away, to want nothing more to do with her. Luckily for Emilia, Amber had a big heart.
She didn’t know if she had Amber’s forgiveness. She suspected she didn’t even deserve it.
They hadn’t spoken much throughout the evening. Amber had seemed content to watch movies back to back, pausing only to order food which was delivered to the door by a man in a crash helmet.
They’d eaten in silence before Amber announced that she wanted an early night. She’d shown Emilia the bedroom, thrust a pair of pyjamas into her hand, and said goodnight.
That had been two hours ago.
She peeled her forehead away from the glass and looked towards the closed bedroom door. She wondered if Amber was asleep out on the couch.
She’d been in shock for most of the evening. She knew she had stumbled her way through some kind of an apology, but also knew it wasn’t enough.
Sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon, and she was feeling claustrophobic in the cramped room. Not that she would tell Amber that her bedroom was small. She’d learnt that lesson on arrival. Sometimes her mouth went into motion before her brain.
The more she thought about it, the more she knew she had to leave the room. The air was becoming warm and thick, and she was starting to feel the edges of panic taking her over.
She pushed away the bedding and got out of bed. She decided to sit in the dining area, far away from Amber. Well, as far as possible in the small space. At least it wouldn’t be the bedroom anymore.
She tiptoed across the room and opened the bedroom door as slowly as she could. Upon entering the living space, she noticed that Amber was awake. She was laying on the sofa with the sheets she had pulled out of the cupboard covering her.
Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.
“Do you need something?” Amber asked without looking at her.
“No. I…” She reminded herself to not talk about her dislike of the cramped space. “Couldn’t sleep. And I wanted to apologise and explain.”
“It’s fine. You apologised.” Amber sounded dejected.
“But you didn’t accept my apology,” Emilia said.
Amber stopped looking at the ceiling and made eye contact with her. “Do you need me to accept your apology?”
“I’d like you to. I…”
I’d like us to be friends, she thought.
“Look, Emilia, maybe I will. But not right now. I’ve had a really bad day. Getting no sleep and then getting fired, and then you turning up—”
“You were fired?” Emilia couldn’t believe that Amber’s boss had done something so cruel so close to Christmas. She knew Amber had thought it was a possibility, but she’d assumed she was exaggerating.
“Yep.”
“But… it’s nearly Christmas.” Emilia sat on the coffee table and looked at Amber. “Who would do that so near to Christmas?”
“Bronwyn Walker,” Amber answered. “She’s evil. She’s like the story of Martin Martinsson, completely absorbed with herself with an evil plan in mind.”
Emilia blinked in surprise. Not only had Amber mentioned one of her grandmother’s stories, but she’d also picked a less common one that was rarely included in the translations. She’d obviously remembered it in between all the other books they had read in Swedish.
“Except Martin was eventually redeemed by baking the bread for the school. Bronwyn would probably set the school on fire because she wanted to build herself a home there,” Amber continued.
“You… know that story?” Emilia asked.
“I know all of your grandmother’s stories,” Amber said. “Like I know that in ‘The Gift That Keeps on Giving,’ the character of Maria is actually your mother when she was a child.”
Emilia froze. “That… that’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.” Amber sat up and pulled the sheets around her. “Maria is an outgoing and fun child, but she is always getting herself into trouble. She’s the only character in all the collection that never gets their comeuppance. Her crimes are small, but other characters who perform similar crimes get punished. Maria never does. She’s treated differently, she’s special. Because she’s the author’s daughter.”
Emilia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d heard the story a hundred times, read it a hundred more. Neither her mother nor her grandmother had ever said a word about Maria.
“I’m sorry, have I upset you?” Amber asked.
Emilia glanced up at her and shook her head. “No, no. I’m just… surprised. I didn’t know that.”
She wondered why no one had told her. Was it a secret? Or was it so obvious that they assumed she would know? Either way, finding out now was a shock.
“I’m sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything,” Amber said.
“No, it’s okay. I… I’m glad I know.” She looked around the darkened room. “Maybe…” she trailed off, wondering if she should ask. She’d already put Amber out so much. Was it right to ask for favours now?
“Maybe what?” Amber asked.
“I… can’t sleep. And it seems that you can’t either,” Emilia said. “Maybe we could sit together and watch some more television?”
Amber’s eyebrows raised. “You want to watch television?”
Emilia shrugged. “It’s kind of comforting.”
Amber reached for the remote control. She patted the seat next to her, and Emilia gratefully sat on the sofa. The glow from the TV illuminated the room. Amber pressed some buttons, and in a short amount of time an old black-and-white movie was starting.
Amber placed the remote control back on the coffee table and leaned back. She looked at Emilia for a moment before reaching behind herself and unfolding the sheets.
“It’s cold,” Amber said simply as she wrapped some of the bedding around them both.
“Thank you,” Emilia said. She knew she didn’t deserve the kindness, but she would gladly accept it.