spiders or anything else that might cause a fit of hysteria.
‘Need any help unpacking?’ she asked, popping her head in through Linus’s door.
He was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His bed was made up with a red-and-blue-starred bed set, a dark-blue blanket draped artfully across the bottom. There was a fake-fur beanbag by the sliding window that looked back into the trees, the neon print of a dinosaur on the wall – several years too young for him now – and a striped hooded towel poncho hung from a hook on the back of the door.
‘Linus?’
He startled. ‘Huh?’
She frowned. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Sure.’
‘Tired?’ The ferry journey – at two hours long – was surprisingly wearing in the wind and sun.
He gave a shrug that was supposed to be nonchalant but wasn’t. ‘Maybe.’
She watched him for another moment, seeing how he stared at the ceiling with a studied intensity. She walked over, sinking down with a ‘whoosh’ into the jumbo beanbag. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m just bored, I guess.’
‘We only just got here!’ she laughed.
He was growing fast now – those jeans that had fit him at Christmas were already too short at the ankle – and his mood often seemed more sullen and reluctant.
Bell dropped her head back on the bag and turned it slightly, looking out into the forest. Some of the larger islands had rabbits and foxes, even deer; the best they had had was a grouse scuttling through the undergrowth. They lay in easy silence, both staring at nothing, listening to everything: Hanna opening and closing cupboards in the kitchen, the sound of bottles and jars being set down on the counter, the suckering of the fridge door. Bell knew she ought to get up and help. This, lying on a beanbag, couldn’t technically be classified as ‘working’.
‘So what do you want to do most, now that we’re here?’ she asked, looking back at Linus, seeing how he stared and stared at the ceiling. ‘We could go on an afternoon paddle, round to Blind Man’s Bay?’
‘Maybe.’
‘We could put out the nets and see what we can catch for supper?’
‘I want pasta.’
‘Okay. Well, how about we just go on an exploring walk and see if anything’s changed?’
‘Like what? Nothing changes here.’
‘Linus, what a thing to say,’ she gasped in mock horror. ‘Everything changes here. Summer Isle is the very crucible of change.’
‘The very what?’
She smiled, knowing the unfamiliar English word would pique his interest. ‘You never know, the Big Ash might have fallen in a storm. Or old Persson’s shack might have been blown away, and he’s now living under a palm leaf that blew in from the East Indies.’
Linus cracked a tiny smile at that. ‘Or he might have died seven months ago and his body’s lying undiscovered on the floor.’
Bell gave a grimace. ‘Eww, I hope not!’ She winked. ‘But we should probably check. Stealth mission?’
‘What’s our cover story?’
She thought for a moment. ‘Collecting kindling.’
He gave a smile, but then it faded. ‘No. I don’t want to.’
‘Oh Linus! Why not?’
He shot her a look. ‘Because I’m ten now, and that’s babyish.’
She gave a frustrated sigh, giving up. ‘Right, fine – well, if you’re too old to play, you can help me do some chores. Come on; I need to get the rest of the stuff from the boat. Then we’ll kayak back to Sandhamn. We forgot milk. You can take your skateboard and have a run on the roads out there.’
‘But it’ll take twenty minutes each way to get over there.’
‘Yeah. What’s your point?’
‘That’ll take ages.’
‘Precisely,’ she said briskly, patting his knee and getting up. ‘What else are we gonna do? We’re on island time now, champ.’
Her cabin was exactly as she had left it: narrow pine bed dressed with fluffy duvet and a jumbo-stitched knitted blanket; a trendy charcoal-grey knotted wool rug over the floorboards; a replica Egg chair in the near corner; on the wall a black-and-white print of pine trees silhouetted by a frozen lake; books in English and Swedish – mainly thrillers – laid along the window edges, sagging slightly from the condensation build-up; the kitchen units – sink, fridge – hidden from sight, set inside what looked like a wall of cupboards along the far gable end.
Bell set down her bag and went straight to the fridge. With a moan of relief, she saw that the bottle of vodka she had left last summer was still in the shallow freezer compartment. A can of Coke was in the fridge