hand under the table, beseeching him not to do it, to give her more time? Because she wasn’t ready yet, Bell knew that. She was confused, certainly, balancing on a tightrope in storm-force winds, but to choose between them . . . Emil might have the certainty of his convictions, but Hanna didn’t. Not yet.
There was the sound of a gasp again, a chair being scraped back.
‘Right, that’s it.’ Nina’s voice intruded. ‘You’re coming with me. The talking can wait. We’ve got all day for that. You need to lie down, even if only for ten minutes.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘No. You’re not.’
There were more sounds of scraping, a low groan followed by irritable tuts. Footsteps, retreating.
A silence.
Then Max’s voice, calm, measured, tight. ‘So, are you going to let him tell me what the hell’s going on, Hanna? Or do you want to get in there first?’
Ingarso, Stockholm archipelago, 24 June 2012
The pen rested in the cradle of his finger and thumb, the teal ink showing through on the front side of the receipt. It was tiny. Innocuous. Unremarkable. But he already knew that scrap of paper and those four words were going to change all their lives.
The hidden beach, midnight.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bell stopped on the landing as the two dark-haired heads appeared above the top stair.
‘Come on. You were getting worked up, I could see it,’ Nina panted, Emil’s arm around her shoulder as they climbed slowly together. ‘You had that crazed glint in your eyes you always got when you were about to swear at me as kids.’
‘I was not about to swear at you,’ he muttered.
‘No, but you were about to do something else just as mad. Now take a ten-minute time-out and cool yourself down.’
‘I’m not a child!’
They stepped onto the landing and Nina glanced up, as though sensing her presence. Bell suspected she had the finely tuned instincts of an attack dog. ‘Oh. You’re there, Bell.’
‘Yes, I was just in with Linus,’ Bell said, seeing how Emil looked wracked with pain. She frowned. ‘Is he okay?’
‘Not really. The headaches are making him crazy.’
‘I’m not crazy.’
‘You were about to be,’ Nina sniffed. She looked back at Bell. ‘Could you help me get him into his room? He’s being obstinately heavy.’
‘I’m not. I just can’t see that well right now. Everything’s fuzzy round the edges.’ He was mumbling.
‘Just take his other arm, would you?’ Nina instructed.
Bell did as she was told, draping his arm over her shoulder, the scent of him wrapping around her like a fur boa. She closed her eyes, trying to pretend he wasn’t him.
‘For chrissakes, I’m not an invalid. I don’t need you both to help me walk,’ he resisted, trying to remove his arm from her.
‘No, you’re quite right,’ Nina said glancing across at the two of them. ‘You can manage with just one of us. Fine, trot along then,’ she said, ducking out of the way herself. ‘I’ll get back to our treasured guests.’
They both watched her go, feeling they’d been somehow played, but not quite sure how. Or why.
‘Well . . .’ Bell said after a heavy pause. ‘Let’s get you resting, then.’
‘I don’t need—’
‘Oh just stop,’ she snapped, losing patience with his continual protestations. ‘You’re clearly not well. Just accept the help, okay?’ And when she saw his astounded expression. ‘What? You’re not my boss.’
They continued down the landing and into his bedroom. Bell kept her eyes down as they crossed the floor, helping him onto the side of the bed. ‘You should lie down,’ she said.
He sat instead.
She refused to even look at the room – she had resolved never to return here, to the scene of her humiliation – but walked straight over to the table by the window and poured him a glass of water from the carafe. ‘Here, drink that. It’s important to keep hydrated with headaches.’
He obeyed, watching her as he drank. ‘You’re angry with me.’
‘Why should I be angry at you?’ He arched an eyebrow but didn’t reply, which only served to make her . . . angry. ‘Do you need some painkillers? I think it’s very clear you do,’ she said briskly, giving him no time to answer.
‘I’ll get them—’ But she was already heading across the room again, towards the bathroom. ‘Fine, invade my privacy then,’ he called after her.
She walked through to the en-suite. It was easily the size of her bedroom in the apartment, white strip-wood floors, a walk-in shower, a marble-topped vanity unit. She pressed the push-doors of the wall cabinet and