‘You never said sailing,’ Emil shrugged.

‘Leisure sailing is fine, on the condition you wear a helmet. Race sailing, however? No. This sort of injury cannot be repeated.’

‘Yes, doctor,’ Emil sighed, but rolling his eyes behind her back and making a face at Linus, who gave a surprised laugh.

‘He’s going to need rigorous supervision,’ Dr Sorensen said, turning to Bell and talking in a low voice – as though she was his nanny. ‘I’m afraid he isn’t taking the potential risks seriously. His physical recovery has been impressive to this point, and I fear he thinks he’s indomitable now.’

‘Okay. But –’ Bell wanted to explain that she wasn’t his carer.

Mats stepped towards the bed. ‘It’s good to see you looking okay, boss. You had us worried there for a moment.’

Emil looked at him. ‘. . . Thanks. And, look, I’m sorry.’

Mats shook his head. ‘I’m the one that got us into this mess, and if you’re going to fire me, I completely understand –’

‘I made it impossible for you,’ Emil said slowly, sounding almost reasonable. ‘Don’t quit. You promised me this season.’

‘Well, if you’re sure . . .’ Mats said, with a very relieved laugh. ‘I don’t know how you do it, mate, fighting back these knocks. Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘You could help him by not letting him take these risks,’ Dr Sorensen said, stepping in. ‘Even a cat only has nine lives. I’d appreciate it if you would personally ensure he doesn’t step foot back on that boat.’

Mats pulled a rueful face and held his hands up in surrender. ‘I can certainly stop him taking the helm again, doctor, but stop him sailing at all? It’d take a stronger man than me.’ Bell watched as he walked over and gave Emil a handshake, his loyalty still with the man who paid his salary. Money talked; it always did. ‘Anyway, look, I only stopped by to check you’re okay. I’ll pass the good news on to the crew, and we’ll speak when you’re back on your feet again, boss.’

Emil nodded.

‘Uh, Bell –’ Mats murmured, pausing as he passed. He was holding out a folded piece of paper.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, taking it. But he simply winked at her and walked on.

She opened it, to find his phone number and a message. ‘If ever you fancy a drink . . .’

She turned back, but he’d already gone.

‘What does it say?’ Linus asked her nosily.

‘Oh, it’s just . . . I just asked him for . . .’ she stammered, unable to immediately conjure a lie. ‘The name of a dentist.’

‘A dentist?’ Linus squinted quizzically. ‘Why’d you ask him?’

‘Well, h-he’s got nice teeth, hasn’t he?’

‘Pfft.’ Linus looked back at her like she was crazy. She shrugged, not daring to look up, knowing Emil was staring at her too. She hoped, with his concussion, it would sound entirely plausible to him.