‘It doesn’t matter about the boat, Hanna,’ she said. Exactly how much had she had to drink? ‘But I was worried about the kids.’

Hanna tipped her head to the side, and the movement seemed to be enough to unbalance her, as she lurched several paces to the side, having to grab at the wall. ‘Aww, you are so sweet. Always worrying about us. Looking after us so well.’ She sighed dramatically and hiccuped. ‘I don’t know what we’d do without you. I really don’t. I’m always saying it to Max. You are our angel. Heaven sent.’

‘Hanna—’

‘You must let me make it up to you.’

‘Hanna, I don’t care about the boat. I was worried that the children had been le—’

‘I insist. Tomorrow you are to have the day off. The whole day!’

Bell glanced down the corridor again, certain Linus would wake up. His mother was paralytically drunk, holding on to the wall and waving her arms about.

‘Sleep late. Go to Sandhamn. Go back to Stockholm, if you like. Have a three-day weekend, on me.’

Bell stared at her. ‘Hanna, it’s Midsommar this weekend. I was going to help you with the girls’ floral crowns tomorrow and get things ready before I went.’

‘I can do that!’ Hanna exclaimed, batting a hand dramatically.

‘Ssh!’ Bell pressed a finger to her lips again, beseeching her for a little consideration for the children.

Hanna followed suit again. ‘Oh yes, I keep forgetting,’ she giggled, whispering again. ‘Well, now, you get off to bed and don’t worry about a thing here. We’re fine. Off you go now, and we’ll see you on Monday. You work too hard. Go have some fun. Go,’ she shooed, flapping her hands.

Reluctantly, and only because she didn’t want the children to be disturbed, Bell turned and walked slowly towards the door. She glanced back to see Hanna lurching down the corridor, arms outstretched as she bounced off the walls, leaving grubby handprints on the pristine white paint. She stumbled into the bedroom, closing the door with a slam. Bell winced and waited for a small tousle-haired head to appear at one of the other doors; but after a few minutes, when no one stirred, she let herself relax. They must be in the dead of sleep.

Lucky for them.

Lucky for Hanna.

Chapter Eight

Sunlight freckled the air as it percolated through the upper canopies of the pine and silver birch trees, squirrels running through the bright spots, tails aloft, birds trilling from the high branches. Bell pulled her knees up under her chin and cradled the coffee mug in her hand, looking out over the neighbourhood. It was quiet, most people still asleep in the red-roofed, low-slung cabins. They were clustered close together on the shallow hill, accessed by bleached-silver gangplanks that wound through the trees, their small private yards filled with the accoutrements of summer island life – barbecues and tables and chairs, kayaks, SUP boards, water-skis, buckets and spades, inflatables, bikes propped against walls . . .