Christmas Wishes Page 11

  He shrugged. ‘It was what you wanted and – at the time – I wanted you. I was infatuated.’ He sounded sheepish, as if he’d said, ‘I was drunk.’

  Hannah’s hands hadn’t warmed up from the journey from the airport and she clasped them between her knees. Albin was being implacable. Cold. Calculating. Reeling from the unexpectedness of finding her shop under attack, she was arguing from a position of weakness and had to fight to keep her voice from wobbling. ‘I can live on the takings if I have time to organise myself.’

  Calmly, he rose to pour them each a glass of malt whisky, glittering like liquid amber in the beam of his reading lamp as he sat down again. He said quietly, but inexorably, ‘I’ll be doing something else with the property.’

  Hannah gaped. ‘What?’

  The ice in his glass clinked, as if he wasn’t quite so calm as he appeared. ‘Confession time. I’ve never gone “hunting” in terms of taking a gun and killing creatures.’

  ‘You haven’t?’ Hannah thought of the weekends he’d packed overnight things and given her to understand he’d be doing exactly that. Her repulsion. His intransigence.

  ‘It was convenient to let you think that but our community, we’re called “hunters”.’ He waited, as if expecting her to catch on.

  She failed. ‘What are you on about?’

  A tiny smile played about his lips as if she was being incredibly thick. ‘We’re always “hunting” for the next sexual encounter. There are clubs. We like to live in the moment, shut the world out. Sex with strangers does that.’

  Hannah felt dazed. ‘Like swingers? Being polyamorous?’

  He inclined his head. Then, when, stunned, she could do no more than gape, he added, ‘It’s an indulgence.’

  Her hand had begun shaking. Very carefully, she put down her glass. ‘I never satisfied you? Not even when things were good between us?’ She felt sick. The conversation had spun far from the path she’d anticipated.

  ‘No one woman could. That’s the point. Hunters are always hungry.’ He went on talking, calmly, graphically, about indulging his taste for group sex and stranger-sex.

  Anger flooded through her as he calmly described the way he’d been fooling and humiliating her. ‘So what’s this polyamory stuff got to do with my shop?’ she snapped.

  He sipped before replying. ‘From those premises—’ he didn’t call it her shop ‘—I’m going to run a discreet club “for the curious”. Less tacky than arranging it via an app. People of like minds. Away from prying eyes.’

  ‘In Gamla Stan?’ She tried to picture a sex club amongst the tourists, the shops, the churches.

  He shrugged. ‘It’s not illegal.’

  ‘But it’s my shop!’ she all but wailed, misery sweeping away her anger.

  He leaned in and patted her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Hannah. It’s not. It never was.’ He was polite and civilised but inexorable. ‘I drew up a plan while you were away. Whatever’s in your business bank account is yours, obviously. In addition, you’ll be owed the value of your stock. I’ve told Julia to perform a stocktake and give me the figure, then I’ll dispose of it to a reseller. I’ll also return the advance rent you’ve paid and—’ he made a rocking gesture with his hand ‘—a little goodwill because you would obviously have anticipated a mark-up.’

  Hannah could hardly believe her ears. ‘But,’ she stammered, ‘you’re keeping me away from my stock. That’s stealing.’

  He gave a short laugh. ‘As I’m offering to pay you its full value, I don’t think you’ll get the police to arrest me. If you prefer, you can take your stock away – by arrangement, as I’ve already taken possession of your keys.’

  ‘From my drawer?’ she cried.

  He inclined his head. ‘My drawer, I think you’ll find.’

  Dazed, she stared at him, casting about for ammunition. She had no legal footing! Where would she put a shop full of belts and bags? Albin had allowed her to trade from premises on which he’d held the lease … and now he wasn’t. There had never been a written agreement. If he’d taken the keys from the drawer by their bed then she couldn’t open the shop. She managed, feebly, ‘I employ Julia, not you.’

  ‘But you’ve ceased trading,’ he said slowly, gently, as if talking to a child coming down from a tantrum. ‘There’s nothing left for you in Stockholm. I’ll pay Julia for performing the stocktake.’ He rose, tossing back the last of his whisky. ‘I’ve moved your things into the spare room … temporarily.’

  She gazed at him, a hand to her throat as if her rage and shock would choke her, hurling her mind back over events to try to make sense of them. ‘Why did we change?’ she demanded huskily. ‘It feels as if there should be a – a day, an incident, some thing that altered us.’

  Something flickered in his eyes but he shrugged and said, ‘Goodnight.’

  For long hours, Hannah lay awake in the spare room, horror knotting her stomach as she entertained wild plans to take Albin to court and … and … do something. But Albin would swat such an attempt away like a bothersome fly. She’d been living rent-free in his family’s apartment and she hadn’t officially sublet the shop. Since leaving her job with IKEA in Kungens Kurva and her rented studio apartment in the southern Stockholm suburb of Farsta, Hannah’s life in Sweden had been built upon Albin’s goodwill.

  She’d been crazy, now she looked back on it. Bonkers. She’d allowed herself to be carried along on the back of someone else’s life. Albin could put her out the door like last year’s coat. There’s nothing left for you in Stockholm. He’d made sure of that.

  As soon as it was light, Hannah hurried to Hannah Anna Butik, needing to see it with her own eyes. To rattle the door. The lights were off. She thought she glimpsed someone inside, maybe Julia, but her rapping on the glass was ignored. There’s nothing left for you in Stockholm … She turned away, eyes stinging.

  Wednesday saw Albin transferring Hannah’s personal possessions to the apartment from the shop, even her mugs and tea and coffee. She stayed in the spare room and thought furiously. Early on Thursday morning she ventured into the kitchen when she heard Albin there.

  His smile was that of a stranger. ‘Shall we say you’ll have made arrangements to vacate this apartment one week from today?’ he asked. ‘That will be the twenty-sixth of November.’

  Hannah licked her lips. All she’d achieved since returning from England was to feel stunned by the magnitude of what had happened. She had no idea where she’d go but she stuck her nose in the air and said, ‘I’ll leave sooner, if I can manage it.’ She stared at the alien who used to be her boyfriend. ‘I’ll need the money for my stock.’

  His eyebrow lift was a masterclass in superciliousness. ‘Payable when you’re safely out of the apartment.’

  ‘I have to have a deposit for accommodation. Stockholm’s expensive.’

  He sighed irritably. ‘Why stay here?’

  She didn’t have an answer and the knowledge did nothing but fuel her anger and misery. Her life had been pulled out from under her. Most of her Stockholm friends were Albin’s friends, except maybe Julia, and calls to her were going to voicemail. Probably she felt torn loyalties as Albin had been the one to get her the job as Hannah’s assistant.

  It was after he’d put on his coat and left for his office that a reminder flashed up on Hannah’s phone. This evening she’d arranged to meet Nico Pettersson at the shop for dinner. Her fingers hovered. So much had happened since they’d made the arrangement as she’d danced in his arms. They’d both been full of alcohol. He’d blanked her afterwards. There had been zero contact between them since. But when she opened a text message to cancel, loneliness and isolation washed over her and she was overcome by the urge to see a face that reminded her of home. She found herself typing: Are we still meeting this evening? Can it be the same bistro in Stora Nygatan rather than the shop? Will explain if I see you. She kept her tone neutral, making it easy for him to back out.

  An hour later she received, I’m free. See you there.


  The day dragged. She forced herself to go accommodation hunting online but without an income it felt unfeasible. When the time came, she was glad to shove her laptop aside and put on a red sweater dress and flat black boots. The streets were freezing as she trekked from the broad residential thoroughfares of Östermalm, through chrome-and-glass shopping areas and the galaxy of Christmas lights that had just gone up until she could cross Vasabron to the colourful old buildings of Gamla Stan.

  Nico awaited her at a table at the bistro Hörnan in a navy sweatshirt that made his eyes bluer. He smiled in greeting but neither of them initiated a hug. They ordered briskly and Hannah realised, with a dreary, sinking feeling that the Nico who’d turned up this evening was the same cool, remote one of Burger Town a few weeks ago. The man who’d gazed at her hungrily as they danced at her brother’s wedding had vanished. Nico had evidently learned to thoroughly edit his feelings.

  The conversation was light and impersonal. Nico asked if she’d had a pleasant flight home. She didn’t ask him why he’d gone off with Amanda Louise. She felt as if her chest walls were made of stone and it took all her energy to inflate her lungs enough to make small talk, especially as a part of her wanted to climb into his lap and seek comfort.

  Nico pushed his food around his plate more than he ate it and the several bites he took looked an effort.

  Presently, feeling the need to take the conversation somewhere other than the superficial, she asked, ‘Did Maria go back to Loren OK?’

  Nico didn’t quite meet her eyes. ‘Loren and I … are working on things.’

  The words rippled through her as she absorbed them. His gentle emphasis on the final few words, the way he’d answered a different question to the one she’d asked, made it sound as if they were trying again. That was what Loren wanted, Nico had said before. Any notion she’d harboured of spilling her anxious outrage about Albin and having one week to find herself a home and way of supporting herself vanished into the bistro’s herb-scented air.

  ‘Fantastic,’ she said hollowly. The following silence didn’t invite further enquiry. From her bag, her phone buzzed.

  ‘Feel free to answer.’ With a polite smile he abandoned the remains of his fast-cooling meal and headed towards the men’s room.

  Hannah read Mum on the screen and opened the message: Can we FaceTime?

  With a wriggle of alarm at both the brevity and lack of kisses she replied, I’m in a restaurant. Can it wait an hour? Or should I find somewhere to call from? xx

  Mo came straight back. Wait till you get home so we can talk properly. I’m in all evening. xx

  Nico returned and when she told him about the texts he called instantly for the bill, which he paid without looking at her or it.

  ‘But I asked you to dinner for your help in setting Hannah Anna Butik on the right track,’ she protested.

  He shrugged.

  Angry that he was so keen to brush her off, Hannah nevertheless thanked him politely, retrieved her coat from the rack and tamped down rising disappointment as he stood back politely to allow her before him up the stairs. At street level, the cold evening air pinched her ears.

  They tramped together to Vasabron, passing through the massive arch of the graceful stone parliament buildings. Crossing the bridge, they huddled into their coats as the lights of the city danced on the icy black water below. He paused. ‘I’m heading to Central Station. I hope everything’s OK with your mum.’

  ‘Thanks. And thanks for dinner.’ She barely broke stride as she swung right onto her favourite route to Östermalm through Kungsträdgården without slowing to watch the ice skaters on the public rink and barely noticing the green illuminated NK sign revolving above the posh department store of the same name. The wind was icy and she felt as if she could taste snow on it as she trudged through the brightly lit, busy streets.

  Albin’s words echoed in her head, feeling truer by the stride. There’s nothing left for you in Stockholm.

  He was home when she got there, eating salad and watching the international news on the kitchen TV. He looked irritated to see her. She felt annoyed to see him. She went to the spare room without hanging up her coat. In moments she’d connected a FaceTime call to her mum and was looking at her round face, currently uncharacteristically crumpled and fed up. ‘Is everything OK?’

  Mo sighed. ‘Sorry if I worried you. We’ve just got Nan home. She’s fallen and broken her wrist. She’s here with us for now. It’s her right wrist, of course, so she’s all of a do-dah trying to do things with her left hand.’ She checked behind her, as if for eavesdroppers. ‘She’s upset.’

  Hannah smoothed back her hair, feeling wobbly at the thought of poor Nan’s plight. ‘Because she’s in pain?’

  ‘No. Well, yes. But it’s not that.’ Mo’s eyebrows tilted forlornly. ‘It means we can’t go off in The Bus on Saturday, as planned. Dad’s so disappointed and he’s trying not to show it. Nan’s blaming herself and getting teary.’

  ‘But she couldn’t help falling,’ Hannah protested.

  Mo propped her head on her fist. ‘Sort of, she could. Dad said he’d get her Christmas decorations down from her loft before we left but she tried it herself. Lucky she was only a few feet up! It could have been her neck.’ She rubbed her nose drearily. ‘Obviously, we can’t leave her to fend for herself one-handed at her age, now Brett’s not around. So we’ll have to put off our trip till spring.’ Threatening tears thickened her voice.

  Hannah groaned, heart squeezing at her lovely mum’s disappointment. ‘Poor you and Dad!’ Their retirement trip had been planned and saved for for so long. Hannah could imagine her dad trying nobly not to show what Nan’s hastiness had cost him. Her mum feeling bad for both of them.

  Mo was still talking. ‘Rob and Leesa are on honeymoon for another two weeks, though I’m not sure what they could have done, with them both working during the day. We’ll have to make the best of it and—’

  There’s nothing left for you in Stockholm …

  ‘I’ll come home,’ Hannah blurted. Then, at Mo’s open-mouthed stare, poured out everything about the break-up and how Albin had coated himself with Teflon from the start. ‘He says there’s nothing left for me in Stockholm and I’m beginning to think he’s right,’ she wound up.

  ‘Oh, Hannah!’ Mo wailed, tears for her daughter spilling easily when she hadn’t allowed them to fall on her own account. ‘How shitty of him, darling. How monstrously crap. But don’t let him drive you away if you want to stay. Dad and me could lend you some money—’

  ‘No,’ Hannah heard herself declaring. ‘Thank you but Middledip will be good for me. It’s as if Albin’s shaken my life like a snow globe and I’m one of the snowflakes, floating aimlessly. I can look after Nan while I decide what to do next.’

  The making of the decision made her feel lighter. When the call ended she found Albin still in the kitchen watching TV. Wondering that they were apparently able to switch from partners to exes so swiftly and completely, she said, ‘I’m going to the basement for my packing boxes. I’m moving out tomorrow and whatever I can’t squeeze into my suitcases, I’ll ship.’

  Albin flipped his attention from the international markets, frowning. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘What does it matter?’

  He shrugged. ‘I might need you.’

  ‘You’ve made it plain you don’t,’ Hannah retorted. But added, ‘I’m going home.’

  He smiled as he turned back to the TV. ‘I think that’s best.’

  Chapter Nine

  Nico flew back to the UK on Friday, touching down at Heathrow at nine-twenty p.m.

  Hannah was on his mind. Yesterday evening had been bloody. Her shining eyes when she’d first seen him had made him withdraw. If he’d responded, let her within his defences … he would have started something.

  Instead, he’d deliberately let her think he was forging a new connection with Loren – far from true. When he’d delivered Maria home on Tuesday he’d felt so uneasy at Loren’s bleak
lassitude and Maria’s lost expression that he’d said, ‘You won’t want Josie overnight for a while. A couple of short visits a week will be better.’ Taking and fetching Josie would enable him to keep an eye on Maria and Loren too. There was no way he was leaving Josie on sleepovers unless he was certain Loren could cope and Josie wasn’t scared of what her mum might do.

  This definitely wasn’t ‘working on things’ with Loren but it had felt preferable to saying he’d found out about Albin and why the hell had Hannah responded to Nico when she had a sambo? It was disrespectful to both of them and he hated wanting her despite his simmering anger. He could have fallen back on Rob’s crap about not going out with a teammate’s sister but he suspected she’d brush that away with a ‘bonkers brother’ remark.

  So he’d put his ex-wife between them and the light had died from Hannah’s eyes.

  With only cabin baggage he cleared passport control and hurried down to take the tube to Holloway Road, using the time on his laptop. Then came the ten-minute walk from the station to his house. It was in darkness when he let himself quietly in. He went up to peep at Josie as she slept, letting the day’s stresses melt away at the sight of her blonde locks swirling over the pillow as if blown there. Maria’s bed being empty hit him unexpectedly below his breastbone and he hoped Loren was coping with her OK.

  Emelie stuck her head out of her door to wave sleepily at him. He gave her a bar of Marabou chocolate he’d grabbed from the airport shop as she always appreciated a taste of home. She whispered her thanks gratefully. ‘Tack!’ Ripping open the packet, she withdrew.

  Nico went to his own room, undressed and let his tired body plummet onto his bed, groaning with pleasure at the clean smell of the duvet and its coolness on his skin. Then he made the mistake of glancing at his phone. Red notification dots had attached themselves to app icons like ticks. Three missed calls and eight texts with a couple of WhatsApp messages for good measure. He debated switching the bloody thing off but, with a sigh, checked the texts.