Page 138 of All I Want for Christmas

Darcy gave a groan as she reluctantly pulled herself up to sitting, Freya tucking herself under the duvet to keep warmwhile she waited. It was snowing every day now, but not so cold that they would allow themselves to turn up the thermostat.

‘So – is everything ready for tomorrow night?’ Darcy asked flatly, blowing on the ramen. It smelled delicious and she wished she could conjure an appetite.

‘Pretty much, although the naked waiters came in at more than we expected—’ She burst out laughing as she saw Darcy’s expression.

The engagement party had been pulled together at impressive speed, given they were now just days before Christmas; Tristan had contacts who were pulling out the stops for him. Darcy wished she could conjure an appetite for that, too. For her friend’s sake, she had to try.

‘And you? Did you hit your word count?’ Freja looked hopefully towards the laptop on the desk. The screen glowed, bright white and blank.

Darcy kept trying to work, but the flashing cursor mocked her as it took root in the top left corner and did not budge. She knew she had done her job: she had found Lilja, identified her and researched her. All that was left to do was write it all up. She had done the hard bit, cracking the story; telling it was supposed to be the easy part, and yet for the past two days she had been unable to sleep or work. Neither would come – not oblivion, not words.

Otto kept pressing her for updates following their discussion and she kept stalling him, but time was running out. Her deadline was Monday, four days from now.

‘Tomorrow for the win. Definitely,’ Darcy sighed, seeing how Freja looked back at her pityingly.

‘...Why don’t you talk to him?’

‘And say what?’

‘You’ve got a job to do and so does he. But it’s just business. You respect each other’s professional commitments, but that doesn’t mean it has to bleed into your private life together.’

‘How can it not? He doesn’t trust me and I don’t trust him. I don’t even think Ilikehim now. What does it say about hismoral compass that he’s fine to just live with what happened to his great-grandmother? She’s his own blood, but he’ll sweep her death under the carpet? That makes him no better than Casper, or Frederik and the rest of them who covered it up.’

‘Well, when you put it like that,’ Freja sighed. ‘...But it was all such a long time ago—’

‘Exactly! And no one seems to care that for over a century, that poor woman’s fate has been covered up by lies. Her reputation was sealed as being weak, broken, depressive. Her daughter grew up thinking her mother didn’t love her enough to stay alive...Just think about that for a moment, Freja. You’d think maybe a hundred years later it was time to right the wrong? But no! The Madsens are still in damage control mode. They’re a brand now. Reputation is everything.’

‘But would this hurt them,really? I know it’s all unpalatable, but it’s not like anyone alive and workingnowwas involved with it.’

Darcy pinned her with a look. ‘All they care about is the money. And there is no way the shareholders are going to let it come out that Bertram Madsen’s son murdered his own wife and the whole family helped cover it up. That company trades now on a public image of making products that save lives.’

Freja sighed, giving up the debate. ‘So then what are you going to do? Reveal the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? Sink them before they can float?’

Darcy shot her friend a wry look at the pun. ‘I have to, for Lilja’s sake. If her portrait remains fixed toHer Childrenandgoes on show at the National, it’s going to be seen by millions of people. I can’t allow a false story to be put up about her...lies perpetuated for evermore.’ She blinked. ‘I have to pay witness to the facts, regardless of whetherIlike it or it causes a scandal. It’s not for me to filter the reality of someone’s life and death.’ She sighed. ‘What happened to Lilja was abominable. She was betrayed over and over again by the people who were supposed to protect her. At the very least, she deserves to have someone defend her now, after all this time.’

And yet it was easier said than done. Every time she tried to write, every time she thought of that eighteen-year-old girl floating in the sea, she saw Max’s face in the long room as she had pulled the shroud off his family’s darkest secret. He hadn’t looked angry, as she had feared. It had been worse than that.

He had looked alone. That was what haunted her.

‘Well, you know I’m on your side no matter what,’ Freja said loyally, nudging her legs under the duvet. ‘...Will you have to see him again? Any more meetings?’

Darcy stared into space, feeling the pain spread in her body at the prospect of never seeing Max again. ‘Probably not. I’ve done all I can do in terms of research...although I do need to go back to the archives and see Viggo. I can’t not say a proper goodbye. He must have been wondering where I’ve been all week.’ She hated the thought of him down there alone now. Their leisurely chats and hourly coffees had become an unexpected joy for her.

‘And have you thought any more on my offer? I can’t bear to think of you being alone here for Christmas, like this, when there’s a spare place at my parents’ table.’

Darcy shot her a loving smile. ‘The original plan still stands, otherwise I promise you I’d be booking the first flight to Bali. No, come next week I’m going to be living my best life here:the flat all to myself, endless conversations with Miss Petals, powering ahead on my thesis, all while wearing ruined Valentino. No one can tell me that’s not living.’

Freja chuckled. ‘Well, it’s certainly something. And I suppose it’s no terrible thing to rededicate yourself to the serious business of becoming Professor Cotterell.’

Darcy’s phone buzzed with a text – a spur to her heart, making it quicken as she checked the name.

‘Oh, talk of the devil,’ she murmured. ‘It’s Viggo. His ears must have been burning,’ she said, clicking on it and reading the message.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘...Hm, that’s strange.’

‘What is?’

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