It made no sense. She was a good mother. Yes, she’d been strained lately – she’d lost weight, her face was often pinched and several times, Bell had overheard her and Max exchanging sharp words behind closed doors. She thought she could probably guess as to the source of their stresses; though the ex-husband hadn’t materialized, as poor Max had feared, into their lives, he must still be a background figure. The guy was Linus’s biological father, after all, and there would likely be paternal rights issues to co-ordinate. But not yet, clearly. Hanna hadn’t mentioned him once since their return from Uppsala, and she (and Linus) had all but put the day out of their minds. But to do something so wilfully dangerous as to leave the children alone on an island . . . whatever issues Hanna and Max might be facing right now, it was no excuse. What if Tilde had woken up needing the loo, or Elise had wanted water, or Linus had had a nightmare? There were so many ways this could have been a disaster.
She checked her phone. Eight ten. She wondered whether Hanna was awake, or still sleeping it off. Part of her wanted to go back there and confront her, for the children’s sake. But how? She couldn’t just accuse Hanna of neglect or abandonment or endangerment – even though she was guilty of all those things – without serious risk of losing her job. On the other hand, what if Hanna did it again tonight? Just the thought of it made Bell feel sick; and how, in all good conscience, could she expose those children to that risk? But then again, if she reported Hanna to the authorities, it could spark a chain reaction equally as devastating to the kids. She was caught in a bind; to act and not to act seemed equally dangerous.
An idea came to her, and she fired off a text: ‘Hi Max, are you coming out today?’
His reply was almost immediate, and she knew his working day would have started an hour ago at least. ‘Yes. Catching the 18h00. Need anything? M’
She tried to think of a reason why she would normally have asked the question. ‘Can you bring the blackout blinds? Rolled up in the airing cupboard, top shelf.’
‘OK, will bring.’
Bell gave a sigh of relief. Max would be there tonight; there’d be no repeat of last night’s horror show. That was something, at least. But it was no solution, just a stay of execution. Bell had a strong feeling that whatever was going on with Hanna, it wasn’t done yet.
She walked along the back lanes, through the tangle of birdsong, snipping clutches of wildflowers she saw along the way – forget-me-nots, ox-eye daisies, buttercups, wild rosemary, white willow, bird-cherry blossoms . . .
‘Good morning,’ she smiled as she passed a pair of older gentlemen playing boules on the sandy path. A black-and-white terrier was lying on the grass verge, watching them from between his paws.
The island had woken up now, residents buzzing around their summer homes – watering plants, fixing punctures, hanging up laundry. She could hear the rhythmic thwack of tennis balls coming from the club just through the trees, joggers running in pairs along the dirt road that circumnavigated the island. She herself had had a busy morning airing and doing a light clean of the cabin. Rest was still impossible, and Marc’s stash of industrial-strength coffee – to help him with the night shifts – had done what sleep couldn’t and kept her going. She had texted Kris, Marc and Tove, telling them she’d arrived a day early and was on the case with bagging the strawberries (Westerbergs had run out last year) and beer. Marc had come back asking her to buy some gardening twine. Tove had asked whether she’d brought her ‘sex underwear’, and if not, should she collect it? Kris had asked if she’d been fired. Her replies had been ‘Sure’, ‘Of course’ (total lie) and ‘Might be’.
She turned towards town, ambling down the hill, the sea pale and glinting beyond the red rooftops, the sun warming her face and bare legs as she walked in her yellow-checked Vans and poppy-printed romper, her hair caught up in her usual bird’s-nest topknot. Some locals were pushing their bags up to their house in a wheelbarrow, and she guessed the ferry had just come in.
Sure enough, she turned the corner onto the main street and saw a mass