Page 146 of All I Want for Christmas

They were the signs of life she had hoped to see, but no one was here now. She crossed the road and looked down the expanse of the beach, blowing on her hands as the wind lifted her hair and made it fly wildly. Had he gone into town? Gone to get food?

There was snow on the sand, a crunchy crust dotted with footprints, a solitary dog and its human walking in the distance from the opposite direction. Sweden was nowhere to be seen, the low-lying clouds sucking in the horizon and painting the sea a battleship grey.

She walked down to the water’s edge, clutching her arms around her body as she stared into the shallows where Lilja’slife had ended. Though not her story. That had continued to beat through Emme, her son, Max...

A sharp, piercing whistle zipped through the air, startling her, and she heard the man give a shout. She looked up and saw the dog, a caramel-coloured spaniel, begin to hurtle at full gallop along the strait. It shot past her before doubling back and careering up to her legs, sniffing her shoes excitedly.

‘Hey,’ she cooed, holding her wind-whipped hair back with one hand as she looked down, seeing the delight in its eyes, tail wagging so hard it could almost take off.

‘Sorry!’ the man called, jogging towards her, holding a hand up appeasingly. ‘Sorry! She’s friendly, just a bit hyper—’

His voice tailed off as they recognized each other. ‘...Darcy.’

Max was carrying a rope lead in his hand, a dog whistle on a string at his neck.

‘You got adog?’ she asked, stunned, as he stopped a few feet away, staring back at her like he was the one who couldn’t believe his eyes.

‘...She’s, uh, a rescue,’ he said finally. ‘I’ve only fostered her for the holidays. She’s...not used to open spaces yet. She just runs any time she’s let out.’

‘Oh.’ Darcy hated the thought of this sweet animal in a crate. ‘Well, who can blame her?’ she asked, watching as the dog ran happily around them in figures of eight, seemingly still nowhere close to tiring. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Luna. She’s four.’

‘She’s adorable.’ She crouched down, holding her arms out, and the dog ran into them, curling like a comma. Her tail wagged dementedly as Darcy squeezed and hugged her; she laughed as the dog began sniffing her neck, tickling her. ‘Oh, you’re too cute...’

‘What are you doing here, Darcy?’ His tone was flat andher brain briefly flashed through the justifications that would preserve her dignity: she had come to share the good news she had received from Otto this morning – that the portrait had been successfully released fromHer Children. That she and Viggo had had an idea for a new exhibition at the gallery: give up the claim forHer Children, buy the portrait and put it out alongside Lilja’s clays, her garden drawings and the family photographs showing Arne’s famous lily displays. Show the love, not the hate, and let them finally rest in peace together.

But it wasn’t in her to pretend and she felt the tears press behind her eyes as she saw the distance that lay between them, even as they stood at arms-length. ‘I came to tell you I’m sorry,’ she said thickly, standing up again. She had spent the past week willing him to call, knowing he wouldn’t, until finally she had broken and come up here hoping she could make him see that the conflict between their jobs had no real bearing on their feelings. But for a man who had spent the past decade making his job his identity, his life...his worst fears had been confirmed. ‘You were right, I did assume the worst about you. I thought you would do anything to protect the Madsens ahead of the public listing. I never thought about how any of it would impact you personally.’

Her words were met with a short silence.

‘I appreciate that,’ he said stiffly. ‘But you needn’t have come all this way...It doesn’t change anything.’

‘I don’t deserve a second chance?’

He shook his head. ‘I just can’t trust you.’

‘That’s bullshit and you know it,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re as fastidious about your job as I am about mine. If the boot was on the other foot, you’d have done exactly the same.’ She stared at him, wanting to shake him out of this torpor. Wherewas his anger, his fight? ‘But you and I both know this isn’t about Lilja, or Casper, or my mistaken presumptions.’

‘No?’

‘No. You’re just using it as an excuse to push me away – and if it wasn’t that, you’d be looking for something else instead. You let me get too close and now you’re looking for reasons to reject me.’

He said nothing back, refusing even to argue with her, and she felt her heart fold at his intractability. Even if she was right, he had checked out from her, long before she had stepped onto this beach.

She looked away, watching as the dog continued to tear along the beach, but only ever going a hundred metres before looping back to them, as if understanding that he – they – were her anchor.

‘Will you be able to give her back?’

He didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes. Those are the terms I agreed with the home.’

Ever the lawyer. ‘Well, I guess I can see how that would work for you.’

Max shifted his weight. ‘What does that mean?’

She looked back at him. ‘Just that it’s your standard MO: you get to give her some affection and exercise and then hand her back afterwards.’

His eyes narrowed. They both knew perfectly well that she wasn’t talking about the dog.

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