The Near & Far Series

by Serena Clarke

  “Sit down,” he said, and she obeyed.

  He sat down too, and pulled her against him between his legs, her back against him. With the hot water rising around them, her shaking finally started to ease. He had unhooked the shower head, and used it now to run a constant flow of water over her body, down one shoulder, then the other. As her body started to defrost, so did her heart, and then the shock set in. Without warning, a huge sob suddenly wracked her body, and then she was overtaken by the relief and fear and anger and confusion of the last few minutes, and days, and then of life, the universe and everything. Even as one part of her knew how ridiculous it was, the rest of her was lost to the strange grief that gripped her, forcing its way out as her body escaped the icy chill.

  He silently held her close as she cried, his arms around her, their bodies drawing heat from the water and each other, slowly returning to a normal temperature.

  In his embrace, feeling his chest rise and fall against her back, she had a sudden clear knowledge. She wasn’t going back to Vertex. How had she ever thought she could stay somewhere so wrong for her, let alone want a promotion? She might not even go back to London, except to quit and pack. She couldn’t stay in Lillavik, that much was obvious. Even if she had enough Swedish, and a job, everyone was looking sideways at her. She might have had stupid fantasies about staying here with Jakob, but suspicion had been enough for him to cut her off, and it had taken a near-death experience to get them naked together again. She wasn’t planning on any more of those, even for the sake of feeling his lean, strong body against her one more time. She’d spent all those years fighting the gypsy life, in order to have somewhere to call home. And for what? She should have just kept moving. It was in her blood.

  With that, a huge pressure seemed to lift. Her tears stopped, and her breathing calmed. She could feel his breath against her neck, his muscular forearms against her breasts, his fingers where they lay on her skin. It was quiet, the only sound the drip, drip, drip of the shower head where he had wedged it behind the taps.

  Then his lips were on the side of her neck, one slow, gentle touch. Despite all the time she’d spent swearing off him, something stirred in her exhausted body. At the small of her back, something of his stirred too. How could their bodies even consider this, after the trauma they’d had?

  And how could she consider it, after everything that had happened?

  She turned around in the water, and hugged her knees to her chest. She couldn’t.

  Before either of them had time to say anything, they heard a siren in the distance, then the sound of what must be the ambulance coming up the driveway. Jakob stood up and got out, and she focused on the water, trying not to look at what she might have had. When she looked back up, he had a towel around his waist, and was laying another on the edge of the bath for her.

  “I’ll go and see Greta and the girls,” he said. “Will you be okay?”

  She held her position, a perfectly self-contained unit under the water.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I’ll be okay.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, as though he understood the finality of her tone. Then he smiled, although there was a sadness in it that pricked at her heart.

  “I thought you would be.”

  Then he was gone.

  Twenty-Seven

  “Zoe, please let me in.”

  From her makeshift bed on the sofa, Zoe heard the voice at the door. But she had no energy for a visit from Malin—especially as she’d apparently joined the ranks of the Zoe condemnation society. Also, the fire was warm, and she was tired. She lay her head back on the cushion, and watched the flames leap and dance behind the glass.

  Malin knocked again. “Please let me in. I want to thank you.”

  She pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders.

  “Zoe, please. Imagine if it was your daughter.”

  She groaned, and dragged herself up off the sofa. “Coming.”

  Tonight, all she wanted was to go home. Wherever the hell that was. The cupboard-sized bedroom in Bayswater, the crush of London crowds, the grubby streets, the competitive machinations of her colleagues…none of that spoke of home. Which was why she wasn’t staying there either. Maybe she’d go and visit with her parents for a while, before she decided what to do next. She didn’t need to cling onto the idea of home anyway. Yes, for the briefest moment, she’d had some ridiculous romantic notion that this place was somewhere special. Somewhere that could be the place. But now she knew it was the combination of the utterly foreign, fairy-tale setting, the escape from her everyday life, and the burning attraction to a guy who was surely not right for her—and who had turned his back on her along with everyone else.

  She wondered about Claire. Had her own escape turned out to be everything she’d hoped for, or did real life catch up with her too?

  She opened the door for Malin and stood back to let her in. Then she went and sat back on the sofa, pulling the blanket over her knees.

  “How’s Ebba?” It was the only thing she wanted to hear about.

  Malin perched on the armchair, looking drawn. “Shocked, but okay. They’re both in bed. Greta wanted them to stay at the house, and keep warm.”

  “Good idea.”

  She wasn’t going to say anything more. Ebba was safe, that was the main thing.

  Malin looked her up and down, assessing. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Compared with the little ones, who were nothing but tiny wisps, she had a decent amount of padding, and she had Jakob to thank for getting her warmed up. Now, dressed in thick flannel pyjamas, two pairs of socks, and a huge fluffy dressing gown of Greta’s, she felt like a gigantic marshmallow—but at least she was back to a normal temperature. In all the drama, she hadn’t mentioned anything to Greta about the wolves, and the suspicion that was falling on her. And after the ambulance arrived, and it was clear that Ebba was okay, Jakob had left without speaking to anyone. There had been no time to tell him about the wolf attack report either.

  Malin leaned forward. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you. My girls are everything. Without you...” The words caught in her throat, and she teared up.

  “You don’t have to thank me. Anyone would have done that.”

  It was nice to hear it though, especially after all the accusations that had been flying around. And she knew that Malin had the same suspicions.

  Now Malin pressed her palms together, twisting them this way and that. “There’s something else.”

  “What?”

  She fiddled with the tissue in her hand. “You know Fredrik is obsessed with you?”

  “Oh, no.” She crinkled her nose. “I mean, he’s obviously a terrible flirt. Like, terrible. But I don’t think he’s obsessed.”

  Malin slumped back in her seat. “He is. He has a sort of…what do you call it? Personality problem?”

  “Personality disorder?”

  “Maybe. His brain is like one of his computers. One plus one equals two. But he doesn’t see how he makes people feel. And there’s always one thing he’s focused on. Right now, it’s you.”

  “No.” That was creepy to hear.

  “I shouldn’t say it,” Malin continued. “I’m his sister. But he’s not right.”

  Zoe thought back to the times he’d said inappropriate things, and faced off against Jakob. She’d thought him a bit obnoxious from the start, but then again, she’d come across plenty of guys in PR who were just like that. It didn’t necessarily make them some kind of sociopath—just an overachieving jerk. But if she was right, and he was trying to pin the wolf poisoning on her, that was more than just being socially inept.

  “Well, he has been...weird.”

  “Not just weird.” Malin shook her head. “I know what he did.”

  Her whispered words triggered a warning in Zoe’s mind.

  “What? What did he do?”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I should have known it wasn’t you.”

&n
bsp; “It wasn’t me who what?” Malin shifted under her scrutiny, but Zoe knew what she was implying. “You mean the wolves?”

  Malin nodded, her eyes teary. “I’m sorry.”

  She wanted to be absolutely clear. “Fredrik poisoned the wolves.”

  “I think so.”

  So she was right. But even with her suspicion confirmed, one piece of the puzzle still didn’t fit. “Why?”

  “Because of you and Jakob. I told you he was obsessed.”

  “Wait. He wanted to make me look guilty, so Jakob would hate me?”

  “I’m sorry,” Malin said again.

  “But before the first wolf got sick, Jakob and I hadn’t even…you know.”

  “Maybe.” Malin smiled a little. “But it was obvious to everyone at the party that Jakob liked you.”

  “Really?” For a second, she hugged that information to herself. Then she remembered that it was over, and that would be obvious to everyone too.

  Malin nodded. “And if Fredrik wants something, he won’t let Jakob have it. Those two are a nightmare.”

  This was unbelievable. “Okay, now I agree with you. He’s not right.”

  “But Zoe, please don’t tell anyone.”

  “Don’t tell anyone? He succeeded—everyone thinks I did it! Even Jakob.”

  Malin pressed her hands to her face. “I really am sorry.”

  Zoe watched her distress, but her own betrayal was too raw to feel any sympathy.

  “Why did you wait until now to tell me?”

  “He’s my brother. I don’t want it to be true. But now…I owe you something so big. Ebba…”

  Zoe sighed. “No, you don’t. All you owe me is the truth, so I can clear my name. You have to tell Jakob about Fredrik. You have to tell everyone.” When Malin hesitated, she added, “If you don’t, I will.”

  She tried not to think about whether anyone would believe her—Malin had to be the one.

  Finally, Malin nodded. “Okay. I will.”

  Zoe glanced out the French doors towards Jakob’s cabin. She knew he must be there. “You can go and do it now.”

  “Okay.” Malin got to her feet, and stood uncertainly in the centre of the room. “Can you forgive me?”

  She hesitated, then gave her answer. “Yes.”

  The relief on Malin’s face was like a light turning on. Well, she had no right to withhold forgiveness when she’d been living a lie herself, hoping all along that Jakob might forgive her if the truth came out about her job. She was still walking a tightrope on that one.

  On the other hand, she wasn’t that noble—her forgiveness didn’t extend to Fredrik. When she saw him again, she’d have a few things to say.

  She saw Malin out, and watched from the doorway as she trudged through the snow to Jakob’s cabin. He opened the door, and listened as she spoke. At one point, he glanced in Zoe’s direction, but she couldn’t make out his expression. Finally, Malin finished and turned to leave, and he closed the door.

  Zoe closed her own door too, and stood by the fire, warming up. Now what? Now that he knew it wasn’t her, did that change things?

  She’d been so angry that he’d walked away, the same as everyone else, based only on circumstantial evidence. Only hours ago, she was so clear on what she needed to do, or not do. Nothing had changed, apart from Fredrik being confirmed as a complete bastard.

  So why was she hungering for one more time with Jakob? Was it just for the sake of I-told-you-so, or maybe for that elusive state, closure? Maybe it was nothing more than the left-overs of their attraction, still smouldering. After that moment in the bath, she knew part of him must have still wanted her, even when he thought she was guilty. But even if they had another chance, she was still living a lie about her work. She might have been proven right this time, but that undiscovered secret could end everything all over again.

  However she wanted to analyse it, it came down to one thing: she still wanted that last chance.

  Twenty-Eight

  Pacing around the cabin, trying to keep herself awake, she waited for him to come over. Surely he would come. Wouldn’t he? It was only a few hours before that he’d swung into emergency mode, stripped her down, and put her naked in the bath. And joined her there. For her own good, of course. Medicinal body heat, to ward off hypothermia. Apart from that kiss… Standing in the cabin, she could almost feel his warmth behind her again, the lightest touch of his lips on her neck.

  He thought she’d killed his wolves, but he still took care of her. He still kissed her. And his body still wanted her.

  From the kitchen window, she could see over to his cabin. The light was on. Maybe she should just go over. She started to pull on her boots, then changed her mind. After all, he was the one who’d judged her guilty without trial. Now he knew the truth, he should come to her.

  As the evening wore on, though, she had to admit to herself that it was looking very unlikely. She jabbed at the fire with the poker and added another log, watching as the flames twisted, licking at the wood.

  Gah. If she wanted to say something (or hear him say something, in this case), she should stop the agonising and go. One boot on and one off, she argued the case backwards and forwards in her head. Finally, she tugged off the one boot and tossed it to the door. What was that saying? Doubt means don’t. And right now, doubt was dragging her down as ruthlessly as the dark, icy water of the pond.

  Seeking a distraction, she stopped by the cabinet where Fredrik had found the photo of Oscar and the summery teenagers. She opened the door and brought the photo out. The guys all looked so coltish and ungainly, with their long legs and arms. The girls, though, were like mini Victoria’s Secret models—blonde and tanned and perfectly formed. It was sort of unfair how girls seemed to overtake boys in the growing-up process. She looked again at each boy, but none of them were Jakob. What had he looked like as a teenager? Did he always have that same air of self-containment and distance, as though he’d rather be away from everything? Maybe that had come when his mum died.

  In contrast, Oscar looked goofy and cheerful as he raised his beer bottle, one arm flung around a sweetly pert-nosed girl. As she looked at them, something stirred in her memory. Stina had said that he was living with an English girl in Australia.

  An English girl.

  Was there any chance…?

  She put the photo back in the cabinet and went to get her laptop. It was late now, and she was bone tired after the day’s events, so she climbed into bed and set the laptop on her knees. This time, she wasn’t searching for Claire—not directly, anyway.

  First stop, Facebook. She typed ‘Oscar Nilsson’ and ‘Australia’ into the search bar, and hit enter. The first Oscar looked about sixty. The second looked about sixteen. The third Oscar’s profile picture was Brad Pitt in Fight Club, and the cover photo was a picture of the outback. But amongst the squares of friends on the side, something caught her eye. Claire Nilsson. And the profile picture was an illustration of Nova No-Show, Claire’s kick-ass girl gamer character.

  She leaned back against the pillows. As easy as that. She clicked through to the profile but it was set to private, and the only photo was Nova. She hesitated, then sent a friend request, and a message.

  Need to tell you about family news. Please get in touch with me or your dad.

  She hesitated, then added, Miss you.

  Now to wait.

  * * *

  She checked Facebook on her phone as she walked to the volunteer office the next morning, but there was nothing from Claire. Well, Australia was in the opposite time zone. And she had no idea whether Claire even used that Facebook profile, or whether the message would get lost in the usual torrent of spammy messages from strange men…or whether she might ignore it. Surely not. Even though Claire had cut herself off so thoroughly, she’d want to know if there was something important happening with her parents. Maybe she should have been more specific.

  There was a note from Greta, thanking her again for the rescue, and saying that M
alin had collected the girls, and she and Bengt had taken the new guests on an overnight snowmobile safari. It was a reprieve—one more day of them not knowing the shadow she was under. Maybe she could ask them for Oscar’s contact details…before she had to go.

  Back from the usual run to the nests, she parked the snowmobile by the volunteer office and went up the steps. She untangled the little Swedish flag hanging there, and the low rays of the morning sun illuminated the gold and blue. Then she reached for the door handle.

  The door was locked.

  She tried again, jiggling the handle and giving the door a push, but it wouldn’t give. Then she understood. After the antifreeze, he was locking her out—literally as well as emotionally.

  This was ridiculous. She went back down the steps and charged off towards his cabin. Doubt, in this case, meant damn it to hell, I’m doing it anyway.

  She knocked on the door straight away, before she had the chance to rethink. When it opened, the sight of him—tall, jeans-clad, serious—tipped her heart sideways. She searched around, and found a word.

  “Hej.”

  “Hej,” he replied.

  Ack, where had her fortifying rage gone? Suddenly, she was on the back foot. “Um…the office is locked.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Right. But…Malin came to see you?”

  He gave a short nod. “Yes.”

  Oh, for God’s sake. Did he still have to be surly Jakob? She almost turned around and waded back through the snow to her cabin. But then, seeing him standing alone in the doorway, she suddenly remembered what Greta had said about his mum. How he’d been so lost, and his father was no comfort whatsoever. (She could believe that.) Maybe surly Jakob wasn’t so far from that teenage Jakob. Plus, surly Jakob was—inconveniently—still damn sexy. She ploughed on.

  “And she told you about Fredrik?”