Chapters (70)
- COVER PAGE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- DEDICATION
- PROLOGUE
- PART I BIRTH
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- PART II LIFE
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- PART III DEATH
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I knock back five glasses of wine on the two-hour flight and am only prevented from requesting a sixth because the plane starts to descend. The one good thing about being back in Copenhagen so soon is that I’m a pro at the train and make it to Lund like a local. I’ve had the foresight to rebook into the Grand Hotel, and they welcome me back as if I never left—probably because it’s barely been twenty-four hours since I did leave. I decline to explain my sudden reappearance and tear-stained face, and they kindly refrain from asking.
I don’t really know why I’ve returned to Lund when I could have flown anywhere in Europe. There’s something about the place that draws me back.
I’m about to recommence the serious business of drowning my sorrows with the help of the minibar when my phone rings. Glancing at the screen, I see Fabien is trying to skype me.
I press end and hope it hurts.
He rings again.
I press end again.
He rings again.
I press end again.
He sends me a message. Pick up.
I answer the next call, and glare into the camera. Unbelievably, he is smiling.
‘Kit! Where are you?’
‘What?’
‘I’m here! How come you’re not in the room? The hotel people said you went out and gave them the key.’
I start to feel a bit sick.
‘You said you didn’t think you’d make it,’ I say, trying not to admit to myself that it looks suspiciously like he’s standing in the hotel room I’ve just left behind in Amsterdam.
He laughs. ‘That’s because I wanted to surprise you. But look—I’m here!’ He must notice my expression of horror because he starts to look worried. ‘You’re surprised, right?’
‘Very,’ I confirm.
‘We booked the hotel for three nights. I thought you would have just stayed here, and then I was going to make up for missing the plane by surprising you with this.’
I resist the urge to put my head on my knees and start sobbing as he pulls out a bottle of expensive French champagne and a teddy bear in a little pilot’s uniform holding a sign saying, Sorry I’m late. Flight delayed.
‘Where are you, anyway? Did you move to another room?’
‘You could say that,’ I tell him.
Understanding dawns on his face. ‘You’ve gone, haven’t you?’
‘Well, what was I supposed to do?’ I shout. ‘How was I supposed to know you were planning a fucking surprise? Why can’t you just communicate like a normal person?’