but his gaze intense as he saw every look and gesture pass between his parents. They had the familiarity of old lovers, at ease physically, anticipating words, their body language a shared dance.
Dr Sorensen stepped back into the vignette. ‘I’ll leave you now, but I’ll be calling in regularly for updates, and I’ll come back on Monday afternoon to run some more tests.’
‘That’s fine,’ Hanna nodded. Her tone implied she would be there, and it drew Emil’s gaze again; he traced her face, as though committing her to memory.
Bell watched on until he glanced across at her suddenly, as though remembering her presence, and she quickly looked at the floor. An intruder, again.
‘Good,’ Dr Sorensen nodded. ‘In the meantime, call me if there’s any deterioration in his behaviour at all – vomiting, double vision, hallucination, sensitivity to light, seizures, sudden anger or change in mood, clear fluid coming from the nose or ears, abnormal eye movement –’
‘What a catch I am,’ Emil quipped, and Hanna laughed at the joke.
‘You always knew it,’ she replied, giving him a lingering gaze.
Bell was stunned. They were definitely flirting.
‘I’ve already warned him he’ll need to be woken up in the middle of the night.’ Dr Sorensen had put her stern voice on again. ‘It’s very important you wake up, Emil.’
‘You’re telling me,’ he drawled, looking over at Linus again and giving him a wink.
‘I’ll wake him,’ Linus offered excitedly.
‘You’ll have a proper night’s sleep, thank you,’ Bell said quickly, the words out before she could stop them. She gave an awkward smile as his parents both looked at her.
‘Goodbye for now, then,’ the doctor said to the room. ‘Emil. Everyone.’ She cast a glance over Bell and Linus.
‘I’ll see you out,’ Hanna said, the lady of the house again. ‘I’ll be right back,’ she whispered to Emil.
Linus trotted out with them, barely half a step behind his mother – not wanting to let her out of his sight again – as she and the medic made their way down the hall, their footsteps and low conversation gradually fading into silence.
Bell looked back at Emil, feeling awkward. ‘Well, I’ll let you get some rest.’
‘Bell –’ She was at the door when he called.
She turned. ‘Yes?’
‘. . . Would you mind bringing some water over?’ He pointed towards the carafe on a table by the window. ‘My balance is off.’
‘Sure.’ She crossed the room, noticing it for the first time as she went. In all the worried activity, she had seen only people – only him – but now she saw that the walls were lined with old hessian paper panels, trompe l’oeils of gentle arches drawn on in dark-grey surrounds, the centre panels left white; the wooden bed was made up with vintage monogrammed sheets and a duck-egg-blue blanket folded across the end. A vast mirror with mottled, foxed glass dominated one wall and twin lampshades with faded red shades sat on the bedside chests. It had a gracious, cultured feel to it but, like all the other rooms in the house, there was almost nothing personal in it – hardly any books, magazines, pictures – as though everything had been packed away. But there were photographs on the table with the water jug.
She couldn’t help but glance at them as she poured. Several were of Linus as a baby; one showed Hanna in her wedding dress, classically beautiful and poised. She was wearing a minimal gown – sculptural satin column, bare arms – her hair twisted into a chignon, pearls at her throat, white roses in her hands . . . She seemed to be listening to someone talking just out of shot, her mouth parted in interest, the light catching on her eyes and making them sparkle. The largest photograph showed her and Emil running through a shower of confetti, Hanna pinching the skirt of her dress as she ran, her new groom holding her hand and gazing back at her, both of them laughing. Emil had looked bigger back then, more muscular, his hair worn shorter. He didn’t look, in this image, like the man she knew, who seemed to choose his clothes on the basis of how close they were to collapse.
‘Nine years ago next month,’ he said, seeing her staring at them.
‘They’re beautiful. What a couple you –’ She hesitated, not sure of which tense to use: were? Are? Were they a couple again? Was Hanna having secret meetings with her own husband? Was that why she’d taken off her