Even though it’s the middle of the night, it’s taken her less than fifteen minutes to dig up what I asked her for.
“Well, you were right. Robin wasn’t made redundant by Andrew Heynes six months ago; he was fired. It sounds like he was caught out doing a job for another employer when he was meant to be on holiday.”
“Oh, God.”
“Nine months ago, in the summer, he took three weeks off to go on a ‘family holiday’ with you and the kids.”
“Which didn’t happen. We’ve never gone on that sort of trip.”
“He actually flew to Switzerland on some sort of a job. He was being paid by Valentin Meyer—that’s his old boss, yes? Lives in Singapore?”
“Yes.”
“Well—I believe this job involved money laundering. Philanthropic funds, probably—although who knows. For some reason, though, the Heynes Foundation got wind of it. I’m afraid that’s why Robin lost his job, Carrie. It turns out he was doing these little jobs for Meyer the whole time he was working for Andrew Heynes. The foundation fired him immediately when they found out.”
“I see,” I say.
“Do you remember any long trips?” Mum prompts.
I remember many. The first one being when I was pregnant with the twins; Robin had gone away when I was at my sickest. He always told me he was traveling abroad for the foundation and I never had reason to doubt him.
I relay this to Mum. I look down at my boots on the grass, monochrome under the night sky, flecked with silver dew. Johan stands patiently next to me while I concentrate on the only thing I feel any agency over, in this moment, which is my breath. Slow and steady. In and out. I feel his eyes on me.
“I can go a lot deeper with this if you want,” Mum says. “But you’d need to be ready. Your father’s just died and you’re in shock. Do you think this is the right time?”
“No, I don’t. You’re right—I just needed to start with that. Just to know we aren’t barking up the wrong tree.”
“You’re not, I’m afraid.”
“Mum, thank you. Let’s pick this back up in a few days. I just need to…”
“Process your emotions,” Mum says briskly, which almost makes me laugh. Mum has never processed an emotion in her life.
Johan moves away from me, trying to conceal a cough, but Mum hears him anyway. “Who’s that?”
“It’s…it’s Johan, actually. He flew back to England with me. To help.”
“Oh! Well, you’re in very good hands. I’m glad he’s there with you.”
I smile faintly, thinking about how hard Mum tried to stop me going to Stockholm in case I bumped into him.
“And, look,” she says. “I’m sorry. I should have made the connection. I should have found out who Robin was; I should have done some background checks when you met him…you were just so happy. And Robin seemed so straightforward. So pleasant.” She pauses. “I mean, not my cup of tea, if I’m honest, but—”
“Mum,” I interrupt. “You couldn’t possibly have known about Robin. No matter what CIA-style activities you carry out when you’re trying to bring down the powerful and corrupt, you had no reason whatsoever to do that with Robin. And even if you had, you’d never have managed to connect him to Johan.”
“I very much could,” she retorts. “Anyway. I want to leave my bathroom and watch over your children.”
And with that, she rings off.
“OK?” Johan asks. The letters release warm steam into the air.
“Yes. Actually, no.” My eyes fill with tears. My babies. My poor babies. Our family unit is their world.
“I think I need to drive back to London. I need to be with my children, I can’t…”
“We’re both far too tired to do that drive again,” he says gently. “It would be dangerous.”
“Well then, I’ll pay for a taxi. I don’t care about the money. I have to be with them. It’s been more than a week since I saw them, I…I actually have to.”
