‘You don’t have to thank me for anything.’
‘No. I do. I was horrible to you, before. After that night. I was just so completely overwhelmed. And now this. I just can’t believe you’re willing to help me right now, I don’t deserve it. I wouldn’t blame you in the slightest if you wanted to just leave and I can figure this out somehow by myself. We don’t both have to risk our entire lives for this.’
‘Charlotte. Stop. I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together. And I’m going to help you. But you have to promise me one thing.’
Charlotte nods. Anything, her deep brown eyes say.
‘No matter what, literally for the rest of our lives, we never tell anyone what happened here today. Never.’ Charlotte stares at Bianka, taking in the enormity of what they’re pledging. Then she nods.
‘Of course.’
‘Because the only way to make this go away is to act as though it never happened at all.’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. Are you ready for this?’ They both glance back at Max, the side of his face lit up by a shaft of golden afternoon sun pooling into the room and, for a moment, it looks like he’s just relaxing in a yoga pose, or sleeping. Bianka imagines she catches a glimpse of what he might have looked like as a child in this moment, when his features were relaxed and softer, when his hair was bleached and curled at the tips after weeks in Ibiza. When a long life seemed so likely it was basically a given for this boy born into unmatched privilege.
‘You’re right,’ whispers Charlotte. ‘Let’s get rid of him.’
Twenty-Four
Storm
It’s past midnight when Storm lets himself into the house, having talked the situation through with Madeleine for hours. This simply can’t wait and he presses Call. Emil answers after several rings, sounding disorientated.
‘Storm. Hi. Is something wrong?’
‘You tell me.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? It’s the middle of the night. Are you okay?’
‘I know about Bianka, Dad.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘That she was my mother’s best friend.’
Emil sighs heavily down the phone.
‘I’m sorry, Storm. Let me explain.’
‘Is that code for coming up with more lies?’
‘Storm. That’s quite enough.’
‘So, it’s not true then?’
‘Well. Yes. It is true that they were best friends.’
‘And why the actual hell did you never tell me that?’
‘I guess I worried you’d find it, uh, upsetting.’
‘Of course it’s upsetting. It’s totally fucked-up.’
‘I’m not sure how much of a difference it would have made for you to know about that—’
‘What? That you married my mother’s best friend six months after she died?’
Emil doesn’t say anything. Storm focuses on a patch on the floor rug, waiting for him to speak again.
‘Who told you about this?’
‘My grandparents. Who, by the way, have spent the last decade trying to get in touch with me. Unsuccessfully. More lies. You told me that they stopped writing.’
‘They did.’
‘Like hell they did. They never stopped trying. Their letters were returned unopened. I’ve seen them. I found one.’
‘Storm. You need to calm down.’
‘Calm down? I’ve just found out that the stepmother who treats me like crap was my mother’s best friend. Don’t you think there’s something super creepy about that?’
‘You need to stop right now. Bianka does not treat you like crap. That’s very unfair. Bianka loves you. She—’
‘Do you really not see it? Or do you just pretend not to see it? She’s a bully and a fucking narcissist. I’ve never met anyone as empty inside as Bianka.’
‘That’s quite enough, Storm.’
