small to see on the counters. But the signs of a sprawling, unwieldy life lay scattered everywhere: a basket of laundry had been brought up from the utility room, ready for ironing; a raincoat from last night’s showers was slung across the back of a hemp linen armchair, rather than hanging from its designated hook, no doubt leaving a water mark. The weekend’s newspapers had been carried through from the living room, almost but not quite making it to the recycling bin. The water in the glass vase of lilies had been used up, she saw, and needed immediate refreshing . . .
She dithered as she listened to the phone ring on the other side of the glass. They would be late if she answered it, but there was something always so urgent, so insistent about a ringing phone. The ringtone for her mobile was set to ‘Lark’, far less . . . pressing. What if it was Hanna or Max? Had they forgotten something? Hanna had been in her version of a rush, with that emergency . . .
‘. . . Ninety-four.’
Huh? She glanced back towards the outdoor table. The girls were kneeling on the cafe chairs, freeing the sunflower seeds from their stuck-down positions with little fingertips. She made a mental note to remind them to wash their hands if they handled the chicks that had recently hatched at their nursery; now that the babies were a couple of weeks old, the children were allowed to pet them.
‘I’m just going to answer that quickly,’ she said with an impatient sigh, pushing the key back into the lock. It might make them a minute later, but it would be sod’s law Hanna did need something, and then she’d have to do an extra trip back here later. ‘It might be Mamma.’
Unlocking the house, she ran back in again, eyes fixed on the handset and the glowing blue digital screen. It would go to voicemail any –
‘Hello?’ she panted, reaching it just in time.
‘Hanna? Hanna Mogert?’
Her shoulders sagged. ‘No, I’m sorry, she’s not here. Who is calling, please?’ she asked in brisk Swedish.
‘This is Dr Sorensen from the Larna Klinik.’ The woman’s voice was officious and clear. As a psychotherapist, Hanna worked with a lot of different institutions and facilities, although this one was new to Bell. ‘I tried her cell just now but it wouldn’t connect.’
‘Yes, she’s rushing to work. She probably didn’t hear it in her bag. Can I take a message for her?’ She tried not to sound as impatient as she felt. Glancing back, she saw Linus on the top step, a look of panic dawning on his beautiful face, lips moving rapidly as he tore through his repetitions again. ‘Ninety-six,’ she mouthed to him.
‘It would be preferable to speak to her directly. It is urgent.’
Bell suppressed a sigh. ‘Well, you’re welcome to keep trying her. But she’s dealing with an emergency herself, so I’m not sure how contactable she will be this morning.’
There was a pause down the line as options were considered, weighed, discarded, accepted. ‘And to whom am I speaking?’
‘I’m her nanny.’
‘Of long standing?’
Bell frowned. Was she being interviewed? ‘Three years.’
‘I see.’ That appeared to pass muster. ‘Well, then, if you could pass a message on to her, please.’
‘Sure. It was Dr Sorensen, you said . . .’ she muttered, grabbing a biro that had been left beside a half-done crossword and writing it on the top of the newspaper. ‘From the . . .?’
‘Larna Klinik. She has my number.’
‘Okay.’
‘It is really very urgent. If you can please pass on to her –’
Linus stepped back over the threshold, eyes wide, tears threatening. ‘Bell, I can’t remember them. They’ve gone.’
‘– so the sooner she can get here the better.’
What? Bell blinked at Linus blindly as the two simultaneous pronouncements clashed and clattered in her brain, each one vying for her attention. She turned away from him, certain she had misheard the voice on the phone.
‘I’m sorry, that makes no sense. I think you must have the wrong number . . .’ But even as she said it, she frowned; the doctor had clearly asked for Hanna Mogert. ‘Hello? . . . Dr Sorensen? . . . Are you there?’
Chapter Two
The day ticked past with leaden boots. Somehow she had managed to get the kids to school and kindergarten only a few minutes past the bell; somehow she had managed to