They had arrived.

‘Okay, everyone, have you all got your things?’ Bell asked, checking that backpacks were zipped shut and nothing had been left on their seats. ‘Let’s join Mamma downstairs. Now remember, you’re all going to need to be patient while we get the stuff off the boat. Linus, you’re in charge of looking after your sisters, okay?’

He nodded nonchalantly.

‘I don’t need him to look after me,’ Elise protested. ‘I’m big enough to look after myself.’

Linus and Bell made eye contact, but said nothing. She gave him a wink instead.

They all walked carefully down the stairs and back into the cabin, where Hanna was sitting with her laptop shut, her hands resting one upon the other as she stared out of the window. Who could blame her? Even from inside, it was a magnificent sight. The approach past the neighbouring islands, Telegrafholmen, Lökholmen and Krokso, was so tight, it was a constant marvel to Bell that the big boats could get through it. She could easily throw a stone from one isle to the next, and even just coming in on the little putt-putt for morning bread and papers, it felt confined, like a canal.

The rocks on either side of the strait swelled like mini mounts, twenty, thirty feet high, their lower edges draped with seaweed, a tide line marking the stone. The tiny port fanned out gently to the sides; everything seemed gentle here – weather-worn, accepting, welcoming. To the right was the police and fire station, an orange helicopter sitting idle as a couple of uniformed officers talked about something that probably wasn’t crime-related. The island had a grand total of ninety full-time residents, and although that number swelled to 3,000 in the summer months – with a further 100,000 visitors and day-trippers annually – the worst thing that usually happened on the island was someone illegally mooring on a berth, or dropping litter.

There was a pub, the well-stocked grocery store Westerbergs, a bakery, gift shop, art gallery, clothing boutique – and, to the left of the harbour, the grand Yacht Hotel, which had once been the headquarters of the Royal Swedish Yacht Club. It was by far the swankiest place on the island, with a smart restaurant for dinner dates and a beach club vibe at its outdoor pool and grill. Bell knew it well, for all the big summer festivals and parties usually ended up being celebrated there.

She looked over now as they disembarked, hearing the distant shouts and splashes coming from the pool just out of sight. She wished she could take the kids over there for an ice cream, just to get her eye in on the scene again; but Hanna was already talking intently to a man she had known for years, Jakob Cedergren, the harbourmaster. A bearded man with a pronounced limp and ready smile, he was one of The Ninety, and he clearly loved his job, his family and his life. As far as he was concerned, his world might not be big but it was pretty close to perfect. Bell had left last summer on cheery ‘hai hai’ terms with him, but would he remember her now? She would never be on the inside track like Hanna and Max, who had been coming here all their adult lives.