Looking further left – or westwards – Bell could see the Baltic swing out on an expansive curve, the horizon pushed back and distant, the next islands of the archipelago merely fuzzy blots, before the view turned tightly back to the Mogerts’ crescent beach and contemporary cabin. They were only twenty or so metres behind her, but the swathe of trees at the end of the beach provided a natural privacy barrier for both parties. The rock bed on her little patch was largely level, although it undulated into shallow dips and rises, catching the rain in little rock pools before dropping in smooth slopes, two metres down to the water’s edge.

She knew she ought to unpack and organize herself the way she’d organized the family – after getting the milk with Linus, whilst Hanna wrote up some patient reports, she had spent the afternoon unpacking everyone’s bags, setting up toys and cooking a chilli (her freezer and store cupboard fall-back), keeping a close eye on the girls’ frolics on the sand, although they were so excitable, they could be heard at all times. But she didn’t move; this was the first moment of the day she’d had to herself. It was well after nine, the children having been finally coerced and settled into bed, but the night sky still glowed brightly, with only a deepening blush of colour to indicate the day’s end. She hoped she’d remembered to pack her sleep mask.

She took another sip of her drink, feeling the vodka begin to take effect, relaxing her. Over her right shoulder, the forest stood shadowy and silent, not so much as a mouse picking its way across the grass. Her eyes grazed idly over the tufts of yellow sedum peeking through the crevices of the rocks, and she watched as a tern swooped from the sky and tore a neat slit through the water’s glassy surface. It was pale and still now the breeze had dropped. The fierce heat of the day had lifted, but it was still humid, and her skin felt tacky with dried sweat, her hair tangled around her face from where she had repeatedly pushed it back.

‘You would have loved this, Jack,’ she whispered to the sky, her index finger tapping against the chilled glass. ‘. . . You should have stayed.’

A sob gathered in her throat, tears pricking her eyes and she squeezed them shut, her mouth drawn in a flat, angry line. No . . . She felt a contradictory kick of exhaustion and agitation and she stretched her legs out, trying to adapt to the feeling of nothingness – nothing to do, nowhere to be. It always took a while to adjust to the change of pace on the islands; Linus wasn’t alone in his restlessness. The usual distractions didn’t apply – there was no TV in her tiny hut, of course, only electricity generators and gas. A small solar panel on the roof was enough to power the fridge, but a kettle was a luxury too far for her tiny annexe, and a cup of tea meant a trek back to the main house. If she wanted to charge her phone, she had to use a solar-powered battery (which had naturally been packed away in her bag all day), and right now she was too tired to read. She supposed she could have an outdoor shower . . .