Page 145 of All I Want for Christmas

She looked at Max with an expression that made him frown, detecting subtext. ‘They fed him poisonous mushrooms? They poisoned him?’

She nodded. ‘It took seven hours for the first symptoms to appear. Another day and a half before he died. He was already unresponsive by the time the Madsens arrived from Sweden.’

‘But the police wouldn’t have just bought the story that he coincidentally collapsed and died within hours of his wife.’

‘They did, because Casper had already given them a show. He had had to give a statement after Lilja’s body was found.Trier heard him telling them that Lilja was a depressive and that she’d threatened to do this before...Apparently his act of distress was so convincing that the doctor had to sedate him. By the time he was called back to the house late the next day, Casper was too sick to speak and there was nothing left at Solvtraeer to disprove Casper’s own cover story of his wife’s suicide. The doctor and the police had seen his anguish first hand, so there was no suspicion when the doctor recorded a broken heart as his cause of death.’

Max couldn’t reply. He looked confounded.

‘Max, this changes everything,’ she said quietly, willing him to look at her. ‘What happened to Lilja didn’t go unpunished after all. She was avenged by the people who loved her. Johan Trier never forgave himself for not intervening that night, but he proved himself her friend by bearing witness in the diary to what he’d seen, and by agreeing to keep the affair secret so that Emme could stay with her real family.’

‘Testing, testing.’ Tristan’s voice suddenly carried through the room, the slight whine of a microphone switching on.

Darcy ignored it, focused solely on Max. Didn’t he see what this meant for him? Them? Casper Madsen wasn’t even his biological relation; his true great-grandfather, Arne Saalbach, had prevailed over him, against almost overwhelming odds.

‘The problem I have now is that if I reveal Casper’s crime, I also have to reveal the Saalbachs’...And they were good people. They don’t deserve to be vilified.’

He looked sharply at her with a mildly incredulous expression. ‘So what –nowyou want to whitewash this? You told me it wasn’t your place to judge either way.’

‘It isn’t! It’s just—’

‘Complicated? Don’t you think I know that better than anyone? My entire family history has just been rewritten andthere’s still no happy ending. Did it ever occur to you I might actually be pleased to hear that Lilja’s death was avenged? That as far as I’m concerned, Casper had it coming?’ Anger blazed in his eyes. ‘Yes – the family had suspicions about what he might have done, but there was never any proof; only two dead bodies and a baby that needed a home.’ He stared at her, his eyes blank. ‘But you –youassumed I wanted him to get away with it.’

‘Max, I—’ she stammered.

‘That’s what you think of me; that’s the kind of man you think I am. Because – what? – my grandmother was a Madsen? Because I’m good at my job?’

‘No!’

He shook his head fractionally, his stare cold. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life. My father warned us that Trier’s bequest was a threat, that the missing painting could destroy our lives; that no matter what goodwemight ever do, it could all still be swept away. And you proved he was right. You were the first to believe the worst.’

‘Max, please—’ She thought of the work he did in his brother’s name, raising millions for the paediatric hospital.The sins of the father are visited upon the children. None of this was his doing; it was just coming to pass on his shift.

‘The truth is out now,’ he shrugged. ‘And I’ve simply swapped one murderous great-grandfather for another.’ He gave a small snort of contempt. ‘So for the avoidance of doubt, I’m glad Lilja was avenged, Darcy, butIdon’t win either way.’

He was right. She had let him down, too quick to believe the worst. ‘Can’t we just go outside and talk?’

‘Thank you, everyone!...’ Tristan’s voice echoed across the room, making everyone turn and fall silent as their host commanded attention. ‘Where’s my...? Freja, come overhere, darling,’ he said, standing centre stage, his arm outstretched for Freja to curl into. ‘Look at her – isn’t she beautiful?’

A cheer went up, everyone clapping loudly, and Darcy reluctantly dragged her eyes off Max to watch as her flatmate gave a small curtsey while blushing furiously.

‘Now, I know what you’re thinking: what the hell is she doing with an old man like me?’

Everyone laughed. Everyone but them. Darcy glanced back at Max, feeling the hostility radiating from him. He was staring dead ahead, not listening to a word. He hadn’t touched his champagne; he was standing completely alone in this crowded room.

‘Well, I’ll have you know not all love stories look like a Hollywood rom-com. In fact, not all love stories even have happy endings; sometimes the most powerful love stories don’t get the endings they deserve. But I have always been a lucky man...’

Max moved suddenly, turning to go, as if the words pained him. ‘Where are you going?’ she gasped, catching his fingers in her own.

‘I can’t stay here. I have to call a meeting with the board and let them know what’s coming. You’re not the only one who has a job to do.’ He slipped his hand free, a muscle flexing in his jaw as he looked back at her with resentment and blame.

‘Max, I’m sorry!’ she whispered desperately. ‘I wish everything could be different, but...Trier’s eyewitness account is in the public sphere now. Anyone can read it. Someone was always going to uncover the truth.’

‘I know that,’ he said, and she saw something like regret flicker through his eyes. ‘But why did it have to be you?’

Chapter Thirty-Two

Darcy stood at the brick gateposts, shivering, the house at her back. The R8 was parked outside the garage but there was no smoke puffing from the chimneys, no lights on in the house. She had walked around to the kitchen doors that gazed upon the lawn and peered in, cupping her hands around her eyes. The Christmas tree they had bought together (in between kisses) and carried home (in between kisses) stood quietly in the corner; they had dressed it with the decorations Max had brought down from the attic, but the lights were off. There was a newspaper on the kitchen table, left open on the football pages; a new bag of coffee beans on the counter.

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