Chapter 30
Olivia would have preferred to stay in bed for the rest of the day to grieve in peace, but hunger drives her up to the main house. She needs something to eat.
She finds Amir and Pontus in the living room, while Emil is in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She can hardly bring herself to look at Amir. She doesn’t believe him when he says he left Filippa on the sofa and went to bed alone.
Something happened between them.
But what?
When Olivia and Emil talked about it earlier, he came up with a new theory. Maybe Filippa willingly had sex with Amir, then tried to stagger back to the cabin, but collapsed in the snow because she was so drunk.
It sounds like a reasonable hypothesis, except if it’s true, Amir is keeping quiet about parts of the evening.
Why?
If he can lie about that, maybe he’s lying about other things too?
Every question throws up a new one, and Olivia can’t control the thoughts spinning around in her head. She would really like to sneak upstairs and take a look in Amir’s room to see if there is any trace of Filippa or her clothes, but she doesn’t have the nerve.
At least not while he’s sitting there on the sofa.
Olivia pulls off her moon boots. She is wearing sweatpants with a loose top, and has pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. She can’t be bothered to make an effort.
Another, more frightening thought is that Amir had sex with Filippa against her will, that he forced himself on her and she fled out into the snow, where she collapsed for some reason.
Olivia didn’t dare voice her fears when she and Emil were talking in the cabin. She doesn’t want him to think she’s gone crazy.
Although right now, looking at Amir relaxing and surfing on his phone, she wonders what he is capable of. He seems totally unconcerned, not remotely upset by Filippa’s death. Olivia has cried and cried, her nose is swollen and her eyes are red, but Amir looks exactly the same as usual.
Has he even called his parents to tell them about the tragedy?
She feels an overwhelming need to be with someone she likes, someone who is kind, so she joins Emil at the stove. He is making a thick soup, and her tummy rumbles.
Is she letting Filippa down by thinking about food?
“Won’t be long,” Emil says. “Lentil soup with homemade wholemeal bread with sunflower seeds.”
Olivia flings her arms around him and rests her head on his broad chest, which is where she comes up to.
“You’re so good,” she says. “I don’t know how you can do all this after what’s happened.”
Emil gently kisses her on the forehead. “We have to eat.” He hands her some tomatoes and a chopping board. “There you go—you can make a salad.”
Olivia gratefully accepts the task. It’s nice to occupy her hands; it’s easier to escape all those terrible thoughts. She has actually wondered if she is going mad.
If only she had insisted that Filippa go with her last night. If only she had gone back herself, instead of going to bed. If only she had stayed in the living room as long as Filippa was there.
Then maybe she would be alive now.
Olivia swallows hard and tries to concentrate on slicing tomatoes.
William’s bedroom door opens, and he comes over to the kitchen island, where she and Emil are working.
“I’ve just spoken to my dad. He and Mom are in New York this week, but they’re going to try and get an earlier flight home and come up here. Dad says the police have no right to tell us what we can and can’t do.”
As usual, William sounds completely sure of himself. Olivia wishes she had parents like that, making it clear to other people what is going to happen. But her dad is a service technician. It would never occur to him to tell the police how to do their job.
William puts his arm around Olivia’s shoulders and pulls her close. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Emil’s reaction—his expression darkens.
“Everything will be fine,” William says gently. “I promise.”
But Olivia doesn’t believe him.
Nothing will ever be fine again.