They couldn’t sleep hard enough, it seemed, their little bodies woken too early and nudged too late by the almost endless sunlight, and she kept forgetting to ask Hanna to ask Max to bring the blackout linings from home when he came out this weekend.

The long days left her worn out too, and after the initial challenge of sudden digital detox, she was just about adjusting to not having wifi. She had to catch the news on her old radio and actual newspapers, and depend on WhatsApps– mobile coverage permitting, depending on the weather systems – from Kris and Tove to keep her in the loop with the Stockholm scene. Not to mention fixing up a social life.

Tonight was her date with Per, the crewman from the ferry. He had invited her for a drink at the pub, having docked that afternoon and swapped a shift so that he could stay over on Sandhamn tonight. Bell stared at her reflection in the mirror, somewhat surprised by what she saw; there’d scarcely been a moment to stop all week, much less consider what she looked like. Most mornings she took it as a win if she had time to drag a brush through her hair and find a dry bikini. But she had caught the sun, too, even in just four days – her hazel eyes looked vivid against her tanned skin, and there were a few freckles smattered across the bridge of her nose.

She brushed her hair to a shine, pulling it up into a high ponytail and finishing it with a thin black velvet ribbon. That and a pair of earrings were her only nod to accessorizing, as she buttoned up her denim shorts and tugged on the red-and-white striped tank. She gave herself one last appraising look in the mirror – sporty, fresh, natural, not too try-hard. It wasn’t like she particularly fancied Per, but she could probably be persuaded into it for a while. More than anything it would just be nice to talk to another adult about something other than sandwich fillings and suncream.

Sliding on her Birkenstocks, she cast about for her phone. It was ten to eight and it would take roughly ten minutes to putter over to Sandhamn and dock in the marina, then a few minutes’ walk across the harbour to the pub on the far side.

Where was it?

She checked on the bed again, inside the kitchen cupboard, ran out to check in the loo, the Adirondack chair, the windowsill, the rock where she sometimes just about caught a phone signal, the bed again – before remembering she’d left it on the worktop in the main cabin kitchen.

She had to go past the main house anyway to get the boat; Hanna had told her she had free use of it. Panic over, she shut the cabin door behind her and began walking through the trees back towards the little beach. The path was narrow, with moss springing up on both sides, patches of rock peeking through like bare skin beneath the worn grass and scattered pine needles.