Christmas at the Island Hotel - Jenny Colgan Page 0,60

into the council main if they weren’t to blow the fuse for the entire island.

“What’s it going to look like?” said Innes. “A disco?”

“How much wattage does it suck up?” said Charlie.

Konstantin looked absolutely blank. He had totally no clue what they were talking about.

So the next day, while Saif was heading to Glasgow, Innes had gone down and had a word with Bert the Councilman, or, to be more specific, took a couple of very good fat hens down to Bert the Councilman, which isn’t to say Bert wouldn’t have been immediately amenable but is to say it might have cut through a bit of the red tape involved in waiting for the next council meeting, and a debate, and having to deal with Malcy, which nobody liked if they didn’t have to, and sure enough, Bert lent them the skeleton key to open the supply on the promise that they’d do it carefully in the dark and not tell anyone, and that only Hamish would do it, and that if they all killed themselves they weren’t to come running to him, and Flora was furious because Innes had nicked two of the best layers and the demand for eggs in the Seaside Kitchen and the Rock combined was absolutely massive—didn’t he ever think?—and Innes looked defiant and very like Agot, whereas Hamish hung his head, but it didn’t matter, it was too late now, and this Big Special Project better be very worth it, said Flora.

The boys could hardly wait until dark, though. They even (and Flora rolled her eyes like you wouldn’t believe) got all togged up in balaclavas and scarves over their faces. She pealed with laughter when she saw Joel with his best Burberry cashmere pulled up.

“You are kidding. This isn’t a heist.”

“Legally,” said Joel in his studied way, “it absolutely is a heist. We’re hacking into the council electricity supply.”

Flora frowned. “If you get killed, I will absolutely kill you.”

“Roger that,” said Joel, looking at her, and she laughed again and kissed him full-on.

“What was that for?” said Joel, confused.

“Joel Booker, since I have known you, I have loved everything about you. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have much fun.”

Joel frowned. “Except . . .”

“Yes, except for that,” said Flora. “But there is more than one type of fun.”

“It’s freezing out there and I might get electrocuted,” said Joel.

“Yeah,” said Flora. “But you’re still having fun.”

Chapter 42

Saif had stared at the pictures for a long time. He hadn’t been able to believe what he was seeing. It didn’t make any sense at all; he felt like his brain was broken. A part of him thought if he could shut his eyes, if he could close everything off, then this would go away. He could unravel everything, travel backward in time, leave this country, go home, start over. A cold sweat crept over him as he remembered Amena suddenly, caught a glimpse, could almost smell the familiar scent of bougainvillea, traffic fumes in the warm night, cooking from the other apartments across the courtyard where they lived, the air heavy and orange; remembered her walking Ibrahim up and down, singing Arabic lullabies to his baby.

The person in this picture . . . He stared and stared.

It was Amena, yes. It was her. He couldn’t deny it. But it couldn’t be. The picture was of her looking straight ahead, staring into the camera. She looked older, but her beautiful eyes were still just like Ash’s, the long eyelashes flicking off toward the sides; mother and son were so very similar.

But this woman . . . who was and was not Amena. She had her arm through another man’s. On her left hand glinted a wedding ring, and it was not the ring of coiled silver that Saif had given her, had brought from Beirut, bought on a medical student’s meager salary. This was a thick dull band that could have been gold or could have been a brass curtain ring for all he could tell.

And underneath her long traditional robes, far more conservative than anything she had ever worn when they had been together, was the round swell of a pregnant belly.

He pushed the photograph away.

“No,” he said. “It’s not her.”

“Are you sure?” said the commander persistently. “Take another look. It’s not like last time, when we simply didn’t know. We have good intelligence that this is who she is.”

Saif could barely lift his shaggy head, couldn’t let his tear-filled eyes even focus