Carina looked over at Alex again, wanting him to react. A part of her realised how ridiculous this whole thing was. She’d regressed to a Year 10 kid trying to make her boyfriend jealous by dancing with another boy, but right now she needed that, needed to know she was desirable. She had to find a way of damping down the anger that was still burning inside her.

Alex stood up, and for a second she was sure there was going to be trouble. He would come over and knock away Joe’s hand, which had found its way to her bottom, and punch him in the face. She was excited, pleased. But then Alex mumbled that he needed a pee, and tottered off towards the path leading down to the turning area.

As soon as Alex was out of sight, Joe started kissing her neck. She let him carry on for a few seconds before pulling away. ‘Oh, come on, Carina . . .’ He caught her, held on to her.

‘No – pack it in!’ She pushed him hard, but he refused to let go, tried to kiss her on the lips.

‘Stop it!’

‘Don’t be such a fucking tease – you’ve been coming on to me all evening!’ He made another attempt, and this time she half-heartedly returned his kiss, attempting to satisfy the childish part of her that wanted to be loved, desired.

‘Let’s go in the tent,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve still got a joint we can share.’

Chapter 21

21

Autumn 2017

Anna sleeps late on Saturday, doesn’t wake up until Milo is barking and scratching at the front door. She wraps herself in the old dressing gown she should have got rid of before the move; the fabric is threadbare, and the hotel name embroidered on the front is barely legible these days. And yet she can’t bring herself to part with it; it’s as if the memories of that weekend – Paris, the autumn leaves, the younger, better versions of Håkan and herself – would disappear along with the dressing gown, fade away like the letters on the breast pocket until all that remained were tiny fragments of what used to be.