Hanna looked back at her. ‘Oh, nothing much. Chit-chat – what’s your name? Favourite song? What year is it?’ She shrugged. ‘I thought we could do every other shift, starting from, say, eleven? That way we’ll get four hours’ sleep each.’

Oh, great, Bell thought to herself as she gave an obliging smile. Her day off would only come after a night of utterly broken sleep. Excellent. ‘Sure.’

‘I’ll do eleven and three, if you can do one and five?’

‘One and five, got it.’ Bell walked towards the door. ‘Where’s Linus?’

‘He stayed down to have some supper. And then I’ve told him it’s off to bed early tonight. I think everyone’s had an exhausting day.’

‘Okay, I’ll go check on him.’

‘I’d get to bed early yourself, if I were you.’ Hanna turned back to Emil with a look. ‘It’s going to be a long night.’

Chapter Twenty-Two

What?

She blinked, her eyes fixed and unseeing upon the moonlight puddling on her floor as her hand flailed and scrabbled for the alarm. She had left the shutters open deliberately, hoping it would make this middle-of-the-night obligation easier to endure, but in spite of the full moon and open windows – the owl calling from a nearby tree – she had slept heavily the moment her head had hit the pillow. The day’s dramas had left her feeling drained, and the anticipation of some time off had set her tingling with relief. She needed to get away from here, off this island and away from this toxic situation. Him.

She had already messaged Tove and Kris, desperate for friendly company. It was exhausting being Enemy Number One. Both Tove and Marc were working shifts tonight, but they’d all be taking the early ferry in the morning, arriving at Sandhamn in time for lunch.

With a deep breath and a yawn, she pushed herself up to sitting and planted her feet on the floor, head hanging low, hair falling forwards. She could do this. She could. She didn’t even have to wake up fully herself. The man was clearly perfectly fine; he’d been more than lucid earlier, needling her into another argument. All she had to do was go down the hall, shake him awake, ask him a question, and then they could all go back to sleep again. She could be back in this bed within the minute, the sheets still warm . . .

Scarcely conscious of her surroundings, but subliminally knowing there was nothing to walk into – the advantages of a minimally furnished house – she carefully opened her door and trod quietly down the landing. Moonlight fell in through the tall windows that gave onto the lawn, the world cast in ghostly shades of grey and white.

She paused at his door with a sigh. Nearly there. Twenty more seconds and she could be back in bed . . .

She opened it and looked in. He was lying on his stomach, arms up by his head, one leg bent beneath the sheet. He was wearing just boxers, and she could tell from the soft set of his muscles and the rhythm of his breathing that he was soundly off. She tiptoed across the floor, knowing it was ridiculous to make efforts to be quiet when she was going to have to wake him up anyway.