‘Poor baby. Not getting enough sleep last night,’ he teased. Tove had of course wasted no time in telling him and Kris all about her athletic night as they were walking over here.

She stuck her tongue out but her eyes were still closed as she rested on his shoulder, happily listening to her friends’ weary, hungover chatter, the gentle clatter of ice cubes as drinks were lifted and set down, other people’s laughs, bird song around them all . . . his salt-crusted dark hair, sun-bleached clothes, puttering about on that paint-flaked, under-powered boat.

She opened her eyes, sensing something.

The others were deep in conversation about the festival they had booked tickets for in Croatia next month, but she had an instinct she was being watched. She swung her gaze round the garden, looking at all the other people enjoying their Sundays, until –

He gazed back at her. He had his baseball cap and sunglasses back on; it was almost like he was hiding himself away. His arms were folded on the table, a pint in front of him as the dark-haired woman – his sister – talked animatedly with two teenagers sitting opposite, neither of whom was remotely animated in return.

She felt her stomach do a flip. When he had left the jetty today she had assumed he was leaving leaving; that he’d come here only for the Midsommar celebrations and would disappear to wherever it was he lived, never to see him again. But she realized now – she’d seen him in the shop on Friday, stocking up on essentials. Even if he didn’t live on Sandhamn, he was nearby. She was going to keep bumping into him like this . . .

She swallowed, her body saying one thing about it, her head quite another.

He inclined his head in the slightest of nods, a movement so slow and tiny, no one watching him would even see it as such, not unless they saw how he had tethered her with his stare, how she couldn’t look away . . .

They had finished eating, she saw, the waitress coming over to clear the plates. He glanced up at her and sat back slightly to allow her more room, but his gaze came straight back to Bell.

She felt paralyzed. After everything they had done, it seemed ludicrous that she couldn’t get up and walk over and say hello; to even smile. But they were separated by three tables, a patch of grass and whole other lives. Only last night united them, two perfect strangers looking to lose themselves for a few hours, to keep the darkness away. And this morning, as she had prepared to leave, he hadn’t asked for her number or where she was staying, or even her last name. He had pulled away from the jetty with burning eyes but an air of finality, no more wanting to shape a future from one night than she did.

All of which was completely achievable, so long as she didn’t ever see him again.