closer over the water. Bunting, strung along the handrails, was flapping noisily, and bunches of brightly coloured balloons bobbed manically from the trees, announcing a celebration to the rest of the lagoon. The weather was forecast to change, a spell of low pressure moving in from Finland, and gusty winds were already whipping and skimming over the lagoon, the water a desolate grey. The tideline was higher up the beach than she recalled, too, almost to the grass.
Tilde was sitting to her right, Elise to her left, their little bodies awkward in the lifejackets. Max was driving the boat and Hanna was up towards the front, ready to jump off and secure the lines as they docked. There was a strange, proprioceptive mood on board, and even the girls were sitting quietly (for once) and peering up at the adults with enquiring expressions.
They could already see Linus waving to them. Long before he was visible, they could see the white flag in his hand, the one he waved at night to Hanna across the water, a silent communication between mother and son. It was ragged and faded with time. She remembered what Max had told her about their boyhood jaunts on the water, and how their parents had gathered them home with exactly that system. It was intended as a welcome, but today it looked just as much like a warning.
She saw Max see it too and stiffen, his movements thrusting and abrupt as he manoeuvred the boat towards the shore, no hint of his usual relaxed manner.
‘Did you see me?’ Linus yelled, as the boat nudged against the dock and he grabbed the ropes with the instincts of someone raised on the water.
They all jumped off, the girls running to him for hugs. He submitted, but with a look of almost comical distaste.
‘You look funny!’ Elise exclaimed. ‘What are they?’ She pointed to his trainers – box fresh with chunky soles, and red and black detailing on them.
‘They’re Nikes. You can’t buy them in Europe. My dad got them for me.’
His initials – his birthright initials – had been embroidered across the back – LVG. It was an aggressive move. Bell glanced at Max, and saw from his ashen expression that he had spotted it too.
‘Did he indeed?’ Hanna asked in a bemused, indulgent tone, kissing the top of his head. ‘Well, I shall have to speak to him about that. That’s far too extravagant for a boy of ten.’
‘I want some!’ Tilde cried.
‘Well, you can’t. My dad’s rich, that’s why he can get them, but I already told you – they’re not available in Sweden.’ Linus shrugged, beginning to walk ahead, leading the way.
Hanna and Max stared after him, mouths agape. Hanna went to run after him, but Max caught her by the arm and shook his head. ‘Let it be. He’s had a lot to deal with.’
He had. But was this how it was going to be? Bell felt a kernel of dread settle in her gut. She had been gone only four days, Hanna only one. How much could the child have been altered – spoiled – in that time? What else had Emil done to buy back his love?
They followed after him, into the trees. The shade was a welcome respite from the muggy heat as they trod the path in silence, single file; it was a chance for them not only to escape the glare and pounding heat, but to collect their thoughts before a meeting that was inevitably going to be fractious.
She reminded herself this was not her family; theirs were not her dramas. She was merely a bystander, a paid agent for the welfare of the children. She had nothing to worry about. But as they emerged from the trees and she saw the blue helicopter sitting on the lawn, blades drooping like a resting dragonfly, she felt her heart leap like a bucking horse.
Hanna too, seemingly. ‘Fuck,’ she muttered, stopping dead at the sight of it. ‘He never said she was going to be here.’
‘Nina,’ Max said under his breath, with the weariness of a parent saying ‘teenagers’.
The girls ran straight towards it, led by Linus, who couldn’t stop himself from boasting. ‘We went out on that last night. We went really high. You’d have been terrified.’
‘No I wouldn’t! I want to go on it,’ Elise hollered, suddenly close to tears, and Bell ran forward, scooping her into her arms. She knew the toddler sensed Linus’s hostility, his anger and defiance,