‘Mmm.’

‘They went straight onto the carousel. Have you had a ride yet?’

‘No. I’m ten.’

‘Ah, yes. The fire-breathers are cool, though.’

He sighed, impatient with her attempts at conversation.

‘We could go for a walk if you like. Get away from here for a bit. We could go swimming on the far side.’

His shoulders convulsed under her hands, and she realized he was sobbing.

‘What’s going to happen?’ he asked, his voice thick.

‘. . . I just don’t know, sweetie. I don’t think anyone does.’

‘Mamma loves him.’

She swallowed. ‘Of course. She and your dad were married. They had you. They’ll always love each other.’

‘But she loves him now.’ He looked back at her, and she knew he somehow knew his parents were a couple again. What had he seen? Please God, not what she had. ‘So what about Pappa?’

Her mouth opened, but no words would come. What was she supposed to say? ‘Well, that’s why it’s complicated, because Mummy loves him too. They fell in love when they were both sad about your dad, and then they had the girls. So although that isn’t your dad’s fault, it’s not your pappa’s either. No one’s a bad guy here.’

He lay his head back down on his knees, looking younger than his ten years, tears continually pooling and overflowing in his clear green eyes.

‘. . . Will I have to choose?’

‘Choose? Oh no, darling! Oh no, no, no, no, of course not. Emil and Max both love you very much. There’s room in your life for both of them.’

‘But there’s not room in their lives for each other, is there?’ he cried. ‘They’re enemies. They hate each other. And whichever one I choose, the other one will hate me too.’

‘Linus, no,’ she whispered desperately. ‘They could never hate you.’

But he squeezed his eyes shut, shutting her out. ‘I just want to go home.’ His voice was small, the wish even smaller.

Bell flinched, unable to reply. What if he already was?

They lapsed into silence, the band playing ‘The Bear Necessities’ down the lawn, snippets of conversation drifting to the window like fragments of burnt paper in a bonfire, the flames pushing them ever upwards.

‘Now let me guess. You must be . . . Tilde,’ she could hear Emil saying. ‘And you’re Elise.’

‘No!’ The girls squealed excitedly, and Bell could hear their feet jumping up and down on the spot on the terrace.

‘Gah,’ he grimaced, seemingly smacking his thigh with his hand, panto-style.

‘It’s your birthday today,’ Elise informed him, lest he should have forgotten.

‘Well yes, it is.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Actually, I’ve got a choice, perhaps you can help me decide. Should I be twenty-five or thirty-one?’

‘Five!’ Elise shouted.

‘All right then! That’s what I’ll be. And how old are you?’ he asked.

‘We’re three! I’m older by nine minutes!’ Elise shouted. They were shouting a lot today, their nerves on edge.