The Hidden Beach

by Karen Swan

  ‘Maybe not, but he needs a chaperone. Someone to protect him.’

  ‘From what?’ he scoffed. ‘He’s got me.’

  Bell looked back at him evenly. ‘It’s you he needs protecting from.’

  It was her words that drew blood this time. He visibly paled, looking wounded by the suggestion. ‘I would never hurt him.’

  ‘Maybe not intentionally,’ she agreed. ‘But given you thought threatening a court case was the right way to go about getting to see him, I’d say your judgement’s off.’

  ‘It was you who said people should be with the people they love on Midsommar’s!’ he retorted furiously.

  ‘Oh! So this is my fault?’

  ‘You know what I mean! I’ve already lost out on too much with him.’

  ‘Bell?’ Linus’s voice carried over to them and they turned to find him walking hesitatingly back towards them, his hands filled with pebbles.

  ‘It’s fine, Linus, we’re just coming!’ she called back with false cheer, beginning to walk too. He couldn’t see them fighting like this.

  Emil matched her stride. ‘This won’t work!’ he insisted through gritted teeth.

  ‘Well, it’s going to have to.’

  They marched in silence, arms swinging angrily in time, and she could sense his anger and resentment growing beside her.

  ‘Well, don’t think that what happened between us is—’

  She stopped walking with a scoffing laugh. ‘Oh, I don’t. As far as I’m concerned, it’s already forgotten.’ She stared at him with mutinous eyes. ‘It was a terrible mistake – let’s just leave it at that.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ she asked, tucking the thick linen sheets back into the side of the bed, holding him firmly. The little red Corvette car was on his bedside table; he’d put it in his pocket whilst they went exploring, his fingers running over it nervously like a lucky charm as he and his father exchanged their first words.

  Linus stared back at her, his hair splaying on the pillow. ‘Not as bad as last time.’

  ‘Exactly.’ She sat on the side of the bed and smiled down at him. ‘So what do you think about him now?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘I think he seems nice enough,’ she said lightly, still aware of the small vibration in her bones at the way he’d talked to her earlier. But it wasn’t up to her to make this relationship work, only to allow it space to grow – safely. ‘He found that nice-shaped stone on the way back for you.’

  ‘He thought it looked like a mammoth’s tooth.’

  She heard the wry note in his voice. ‘Didn’t you?’

  ‘No. Anyway, it’s babyish looking for stones. I’m ten, not two.’

  ‘Well,’ she sighed. ‘Give him a chance. At least he’s trying. It’s bound to take him a while to get used to how big you are. Remember, for him, you were only two when he saw you last.’

  They were both quiet, the enormity of what had happened – what had been taken, from both father and son – settling upon them.

  ‘I – I don’t know what to call him.’ Linus’s voice was hesitant. ‘I don’t care what Mamma says. He’s not my pappa and he never will be.’

  She smoothed a hand over his hairline again. ‘No, of course not. No one’s expecting you to let him take Max’s place.’ She gave a sad smile, looking into those anxious green eyes which were usually so clear. ‘Don’t worry, little man, it will all become apparent in the fullness of time. Just do what feels right for you. Emil is a grown-up. He knows this can’t be rushed.’

  She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, smoothing his hair gently. ‘Sleep tight, okay? I’m just on the other side of that wall if you need me.’

  ‘You won’t leave me here?’ he asked as she got to the door.

  ‘Never. We’re a team, dude.’ She winked. ‘Where you go, I go. No exceptions.’

  She closed the door with a soft click and hesitated on the landing, not sure where to go next. She wasn’t a guest in this house, but staff. She wasn’t expected to dine with him, although frankly, after the things he’d said to her earlier, she’d rather choke on her dinner than eat it with him, anyway.

  There was no wifi on the island, so she’d have to go old-school. There had been books in the library, although they were the gilt-edged sort no one ever read. She’d spotted paperbacks in the snug, though, that tiny room off the kitchen corridor at the back.

  She moved downstairs and through the house quickly, silent in her bare feet. She could hear a voice coming from one of the larger salons, the door closed, and nipped into the small room. It felt so completely different in there, like an apartment contained within the house.

  A jumper lay strewn over the navy sofa; a pair of boat shoes with the backs pushed down were under the coffee table. The room had a curious feeling to it, like it was backdated. The TV was an old floor-standing set, with a DVD player below it, and in the corner was a stacked hi-fi system with a radio, CD player, and even a turntable.

  She headed straight for the bookcase and scanned the titles quickly. Swedish, English, she didn’t care, she just needed something to absorb her mind and help her forget that she was stranded here, trapped in a waking nightmare with the man she had hoped – and now truly wanted – to never see again.

  ‘Oh.’

  She turned with surprise at the exclamation and saw him standing by the door, looking equally shocked, as though it was impossible to believe they should both be here.

  ‘Oh,’ she said back, struggling like him to regain her composure. ‘I wasn’t prying, I was . . . looking for something to read. Måns had said I could come in here.’

  ‘. . . Yes, it’s fine. Of course.’ He gave a nod and after another hesitation, walked in, sinking down into the sofa. ‘Feel free to go wherever you wish.’ His stiff manners now were in heightened contrast to their bitter argument earlier.

  ‘Thank you.’ She stood awkwardly, feeling the blood rush to her head and reaching for the first book her hand came to. ‘. . . Well,’ she said after another silence, ‘I’ve found something, so I’ll leave you in peace. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

  His eyes fell to the book in her hands. ‘The Art of Angling. Really?’

  ‘Huh?’ She looked at it in dismay. Unbelievable.

  ‘A favourite of my father’s, to be sure,’ he said wryly, his head lolling against the back cushion. He looked drained. ‘But I’m sure there must be something there that’s more interesting to you than that.’

  ‘I . . . well . . .’ A large part of her wanted to insist that she liked angling, actually, just to naysay against him, but the reality of spending an evening looking at maggot-flies, carp and dogfish was too much to bear. She turned back to the bookcase again and replaced the volume hurriedly, her fingers tracing across spines for a suitable replacement. Anything. Anything at all that wasn’t angling . . .

  ‘Is he in bed?’ he asked to her back as she stood on tiptoe to read the titles on the higher shelves.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It seems early for a ten-year-old.’

  ‘He was exhausted. It’s been a very draining day for him.’ She desperately hoped he heard the barbs in her words. He should be ashamed of himself for the way he’d acted in the past twenty-four hours to Hanna, Linus. Her.

  ‘I wanted to go in and say goodnight, but I wasn’t sure if—’

  ‘No, he’ll be asleep already,’ she said tersely. ‘He could scarcely keep his eyes open.’ Couldn’t he see it was far too soon for fatherly kisses?

  ‘. . . Right.’

  ‘Your evening snack, sir.’ She looked over her shoulder as Måns came in with a tray. ‘Ah, Miss Bell, good evening.’

  ‘Good evening,’ she replied, looking at the contents of the tray: a thick shake, a ramekin of pills and a plate of Toast Skagen.

  ‘I don’t want it,’ Emil said in a low voice.

  Måns lowered his chin as he dropped his voice too, innately understanding that they w
ere trying to keep the conversation from her earshot. ‘You’re seven hundred calories down on your daily tally, owing to your missed lunch.’

  ‘I said, I don’t want it.’ He was speaking through clenched teeth, his gaze hard on the floor.

  ‘It’s doctor’s orders, I’m afraid, sir.’ Måns was equally firm within his signature deference.

  Bell listened in embarrassment, but also interest. This wasn’t a usual staff–boss relationship. Måns was elderly and slow, but he was somehow also everywhere at the right moment, and implacably right.

  With an angry sigh, Emil picked up the toast and began to eat, giving his valet a sarcastic ‘happy now?’ look as he chewed.

  Måns nodded gratefully. ‘A drink, Miss Bell?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’m about to go to bed.’

  ‘Very good.’ He looked back at Emil. ‘Christer will be ready for you in ten minutes, sir.’

  Emil just nodded, swallowing every mouthful with resentment.

  Måns left the room as silently as he’d entered, and Bell hovered for a moment.

  ‘He seems very good.’

  ‘My father’s valet,’ he muttered. ‘He’s been with us for fifty-three years.’

  So Måns had watched Emil grow up, then? He didn’t appear to want to talk about it. She changed the subject, feeling his hostility prickle through the room. ‘That’s a lot of CDs you’ve got there,’ she said, casting a bemused gaze over the multitude of discs set into a stacking tower.

  ‘Is it? It seems a normal amount to me.’

  ‘Yeah, I mean if . . . if that’s what you . . .’ He appeared to have missed the point. ‘Don’t you stream?’

  He looked at her blankly. ‘. . . Oh yes, right. I keep forgetting. Streaming.’ The way he shook his head wearily, the wry note in his voice . . . she realized this was a new technology for him, one of the changes the world had shifted to whilst he’d been in the coma.

  ‘Yes, Spotify. Have you heard of it? It’s a Swedish company.’

  ‘I know. I think we own it.’ He tore off another bite of toast.

  She gave an astonished laugh. ‘You think? You don’t even know?’

  ‘There’s been a lot . . . a lot to catch up on,’ he muttered. ‘Quite a lot happened while I was “away”. Instagram was a niche photo filter app when I left, and now it’s a global publishing phenomenon with content curated to every individual on the planet.’ He shrugged.

  ‘And are you going to buy that too?’ she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  He didn’t look at her. ‘We’re considering it.’

  She laughed. ‘My God, who are you people?’ She shook her head as he looked over. ‘Don’t answer that. I don’t care.’

  He frowned. ‘Not the usual response,’ he mumbled.

  She leaned against the bookcase, intrigued. ‘So what else changed whilst you were “away”, then?’ She made speech marks in the air.

  He thought about it as he chewed. ‘Well, let’s see . . . When I was hit, Obama was president. No one had heard about Islamic State . . . I was using an iPhone 5. Messi had just won the Ballon d’Or for the fourth time . . . Mandela was still alive. Prince was still alive.’ He looked down. ‘A lot of people were still alive when I went under.’

  She remembered what he’d said about his father. Him too? ‘I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you, coming back and finding the world so changed.’

  ‘It was just one of the things I had to adapt to, like muscular atrophy,’ he said shortly, clearly not wanting her pity; not wanting any connection at all. He drank the shake in one long gulp, grimacing as he swallowed the last bit, staring at the empty glass like it owed him one.

  ‘Christer is ready.’ Måns was back at the door again.

  ‘Right.’ He sighed, handing back the empty plate. ‘Happy?’

  ‘Delighted, sir.’

  He looked back at Bell stiffly, his green eyes still low-simmering with anger and resentment. ‘Well, goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight.’ She felt herself loosen as he left the room, taking all the air with him. She felt jarred and dislocated, rattled not just by his presence but by his absence too, her eyes lingering on the space he had just occupied as though he had warmed the air. She looked away abruptly, feeling a tangled knot of emotions in her stomach. Why him? Why did it have to be him? Would he still have an effect on her if Midsommar’s had never happened? She had hardly fallen at his feet outside Westerbergs, after all.

  Then again, he had kept himself largely hidden behind his cap and glasses then, and she wasn’t sure she could ever be unmoved by his eyes and the depths she saw in them. There was a hairline fracture that drew a jagged line all the way through him, and she recognized it because there was one running through her too. They were both haunted by their own pasts, hollowed out by loss, and that made them kindred spirits on one level – even if on this one, they were bitterly opposed.

  She remembered his face at her words, the flash of pain amid the anger. ‘It was a mistake.’ They had been the right words to say, because they were true – it was a mistake.

  Unfortunately, just not one she regretted.

  She awoke with a start, glancing round the room in a panic, trying to get her bearings. It took a moment to remember where she was. She was lying on top of the bed, still dressed, and the paperback thriller was still in her hand; she had fallen asleep mid-sentence. Linus wasn’t the only one who’d been drained by the day’s revelations.

  She closed the book and stretched, her neck feeling stiff from the odd angle, seeing her phone flash with notifications. She picked it up – eight messages from Hanna checking on their day, a barely subdued note of panic in each one.

  Quickly Bell replied, doing her best to reassure her boss, which meant omitting the fact that Emil had – unbelievably – not even bothered to be there to greet them. ‘Sorry, been a busy day. Lots of exploring the island, found the hidden beach. Initial meeting with E was fine. L quiet and shy but to be expected tbh. E didn’t push it and was quite light touch, thankfully. L now fast asleep after a good dinner. Shall I get him to text you in the morning? Bx’

  All the lights were still on in the room, her windows open, and she saw moths were fluttering in, the ceiling speckled with dozens of tiny thunder bugs. She got up and closed the shutters, keeping the windows open to allow for a breeze. It was a sticky night.

  What had disturbed her? she wondered. Was Linus awake? She stood still for a moment and listened for a sound coming through the wall. She could hear something, like voices whispering, but it was coming from the hallway. Was he going to the bathroom? Sleepwalking?

  She opened the door and peered out through the crack. Linus’s door beside hers was still closed, everything silent and dark behind it, but down the far end of the corridor she could make out shapes. She opened the door a little wider and frowned as she saw someone being half walked, half dragged. His legs kept buckling, his head dropping down, and the man with him was struggling to hold his arm around his neck.

  ‘Come on, Emil. We’re nearly there,’ the man was panting. ‘Lock those knees, buddy.’

  She watched as he bent forward awkwardly to open the door at the farthest end of the hall, and they staggered in together.

  Bell closed her door again, her heart racing; she had a sense she had seen something she shouldn’t have. Had Emil collapsed? Was he physically frail? He was lean for his frame, but he’d seemed strong enough to her that night they’d spent together. More than strong –

  Her phone beeped and she went back to check the message, already knowing it was Hanna.

  ‘Thank God! Been desperate all day. Hardest part is done then, hopefully. Yes, please get him to text when he’s awake. Send photo too if data will permit. Thanks Bell, for everything. Hx’

  Bell scrolled quickly through the photos she had taken that day, mainly of Linus playing in the room as they had waited for Emil’s arrival, their exploration through the gardens. There had been none taken at the hidden
beach, of course . . . She was sending one of Linus playing with the red Corvette when the sound of footsteps on the treads again made her lift her head. She ran back and peered out just in time to see the same man jogging back down the stairs. She hesitated, then followed after. She was here to protect Linus, after all; she needed to know if there was anything happening that might affect him. Emil couldn’t collapse if they were all out together, not in front of Linus . . .

  The man had disappeared into one of the smaller rooms at the back of the house, opposite the grand spaces of the formal salons.

  ‘Excuse me?’ She stopped outside the door of the room, the gym. The man was inside, rolling up some mats. Weights and kettlebells were scattered everywhere; a heavy-looking battle rope lay, anaconda-like, on the floor.

  ‘Hmm? Oh, hi!’ He got up with an athletic bounce and came over, his muscular arm outstretched. ‘You must be the nanny? I’m Christer, the physio.’

  ‘Yes, I’m Bell. Pleased to meet you.’

  He had his hands on his hips. ‘I heard you guys were coming today.’ He gave a grin. ‘It’s been a big deal, all he’s talked about for months. How did it go? He was pretty quiet tonight.’

  ‘Oh. Well. Yes, very well, I think. Under the circumstances.’ She bit her lip. ‘It’s not an easy thing, for anyone.’ Did he pick up on the serrated edge of her words?

  ‘You’re telling me. I don’t know how he’s got through all this.’ Christer shook his head in admiration. ‘Every time he was told he couldn’t do something, he went and did it. When the docs said he’d walk with a limp, he trained his left side twice as hard to counteract it. And in the weights room, when we were trying to reverse the physical atrophy and spasticity, he went longer and harder than anyone there had ever seen. You’d never be able to tell it now.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Uh-huh. He’s got grit, I’ll give him that. I only wish my other clients would take a leaf out of his book. He’s the miracle, I keep telling him. He’s the One Guy, you know, the one in a million chance. He’s the One.’

  ‘And is he okay? Now, I mean?’ She gave a worried smile as he looked at her, a little confused. ‘It’s just that I was in my room just now and thought I heard something, and I saw him being carried –’