Frankie returned to their table and sat down just as ‘White Christmas’ started to drift from the speakers.
‘Do you ever have a white Christmas here?’ he asked her.
‘Sometimes. Although it’s nothing like you get in Norway. Snow causes utter panic in the UK. We’re just not equipped to deal with it like you Norwegians.’
‘I love the snow.’
‘I do too. I’d love to spend a winter in a snowy climate, to know that every day I’d get up and find a flawless white landscape just beyond my window.’
‘You should come back to Oslo with Freya and me.’
She met his eyes.
‘That would be lovely, but I don’t know what’s going to happen yet. I need to visit my grandmother in the hospital and to see how she does over the next few days.’
‘Of course.’
‘How long will you stay in London?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure yet. It kind of depends on Freya but obviously we will… or at least I will need to get back to the gallery.’
Frankie nodded, causing her brown hair to slide forwards. Without thinking, Jonas reached out and tucked it behind her ears then gently cupped her face. His heart pounded, making blood rush through his ears. The sounds of the pub, the music and the conversations of other people faded away and it seemed that they were the only two people in the world.
‘Frankie, I—’
She gasped then pulled back slightly and he dropped his hands. What the hell was he doing? Had he gone completely mad? This hadn’t been planned. He hadn’t even thought about it. Not in any detail anyway.
‘Jonas…’ She frowned.
‘Sorry.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘I don’t know what happened then.’
Frankie appeared to be dazed.
‘Excuse me for a moment.’ He got up and made his way to the toilets where he ran the cold water over his hands and splashed it over his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, took in his flushed cheeks and wide eyes, and it confirmed what he already suspected. He was, for reasons beyond his own comprehension, very taken with Frankie Ashford. She was beautiful and sweet, easy to talk to and he felt comfortable with her, that he could be himself, but there was more to her than that. Jonas rarely felt a connection to anyone, other than some of his close friends, Freya, and his mother. And now he seemed to be developing a connection with Frankie.
But he had no idea if she felt the same.
It was a new situation for him and he wasn’t sure if he liked it, because it made him feel vulnerable. It was also hard to admit this to himself, especially after he’d internally reiterated the fact that they were too different to ever be anything other than friends. His mother had always told him that the heart wants what it wants, and therefore it often refuses to listen to reason. He’d repeatedly teased her for being a romantic, but now he was starting to wonder if she had a point.
When he returned to the booth, Frankie was buttoning her coat.
‘Are we going back to the house?’
‘Yes, it’s probably best if we do. Dad might have news about Grandma and much as I’d like to sit here all afternoon, I probably need to get a few things sorted.’
He nodded and pulled on his own coat.
Frankie sighed then sank onto a chair. ‘Jonas, there’s something I haven’t told you. My life and my emotions are rather complicated right now.’
‘You don’t have to tell me anything, Frankie.’
‘Sit down for a moment.’ She patted the seat next to her. ‘Please.’
He sat down and watched her face carefully.
‘Jonas, I came to Norway to find Freya but it wasn’t planned. Well, not until that point in time anyhow. See… I was running away from something.’
‘Your grandmother.’ He nodded.
‘Yes, but see I was running away from her because I walked out on my wedding.’
‘You were getting married?’ His heart plummeted.
‘I was. To the grandson of a family friend. We were due to marry at his ancestral home. It was a big affair and was going to be covered by the high society magazines and everyone Grandma knew had been invited. But when the day came, I just couldn’t go through with it. So I ran away.’ She dropped her gaze to her hands and he watched as she wrung them in her lap.
‘Well, if it was wrong then it was wrong, Frankie. Better to walk away before the ceremony than after.’
She looked up. ‘Do you think? That’s what I told myself. Grandma wasn’t of the same mind.’
‘She’ll be OK about it in time, I’m sure.’
‘I hope so.’
‘And it’s your life, anyway, so you have to live it the way you want to.’
She nodded. ‘I didn’t love him. It was all wrong and if I had loved him, then I’d have married him and been Mrs Rolo Bellamy now. He wanted me to take his name,’ she added.
‘You didn’t want that?’
She shrugged. ‘I didn’t love him so the thought of being his wife was bad enough as it was. But I feel awful for the upset I caused by walking away. So much money and time wasted.’
Jonas gently placed his hand on top of hers. ‘You have a right to be happy. No one should ever tell you that you don’t.’
‘Thank you.’
They stood up and Jonas smiled at Frankie, trying to offer some reassurance. It must have taken great courage to get to her wedding day then call a halt to proceedings. It would have been easier to keep her head down and go through with it to save face. Yet she hadn’t, and he admired her for that. Frankie was stronger than he had realized and it made him admire her even more.
They paid the bill then went back out into the wintery afternoon. The sky had darkened now and was positively leaden, as if at any moment it would throw down freezing rain or possibly snow. Jonas didn’t know which, as he was used to the skies of Norway and not accustomed to reading this British sky, just as he wasn’t accustomed to reading Frankie. Something he wished he could remedy, and soon. If only he knew how she felt about him…
Chapter 24
On the walk back to her house, Frankie couldn’t banish the image of Jonas cupping her face in his big hands from her mind. It was emblazoned there, as was his touch, imprinted upon her skin. Frankie had never been a hopeless romantic, remaining unconvinced by her girlfriends’ claims that they were madly in love and that they had found ‘the one’. Love like that only existed in books and movies and she had never expected to feel anything like it or to even want to.
Until now…
She glanced sideways at him as they walked. With his long-legged strides and imposing height, he was impossible to miss. She actually had to walk faster than was comfortable in order to keep up with him.
His gesture, brushing her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ears, was innocuous enough but it had been so gentle, and when his hands had then rested on her cheeks, something inside her had somersaulted and she’d pulled away quickly before she flung her arms around him and kissed him the way they kissed in fiction.
She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself smiling. This was all a bit silly and romantic and she knew that it probably had roots in what she was going through with her mother, her grandmother and breaking up with Rolo. No doubt a psychologist would explain it clearly and tell her to take care, as she was likely to regret any impulsive actions linked to Jonas. Frankie was not impulsive.
But around Jonas she wanted to be.
They climbed the stone steps outside her house and she slid her key into the lock. Once inside, she paused. Something was… different.
Music was playing. Her father had never played music for as long as she could remember. Sometimes Grandma would have her radio stations on in the dining room, as she listened to opera or a radio play, but now uplifting pop music filled the hallway, making it seem more positive and alive than ever before.
She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the coat stand then kicked off her boots.
‘Are you al
l right, Frankie? You looked shocked just then.’
‘It’s the music. Dad never plays music even though he has lots of records in the cellar from… from before.’
‘Before?’
‘Before Freya left.’
‘Ah…’ Jonas nodded. ‘Freya loves music. Anything and everything. Sometimes I’ve even seen her cry as she listens to it but she refuses to turn it off.’
‘I think that’s why Dad never plays music. He doesn’t want it to stir his emotions up.’ Frankie shook her head. She was learning more about her parents all the time, even her father who had been there as she’d grown up. ‘Let’s go and see what they’re up to, shall we?’
Jonas nodded.
In the kitchen, they found Hugo and Freya side by side at the marble-topped kitchen island. They had glasses of red wine in front of them and were laughing as they spooned food into serving bowls and chopped and stirred bubbling pans.
Frankie stood in the doorway watching them. It was a scene she’d long ago stopped imagining as it was far too painful when it didn’t materialise. The idea of united parents was a childhood fantasy, although Freya’s face had always been hazy in those daydreams, but now she was here. Standing next to her father. And they looked… happy.
Jonas cleared his throat and Freya and Hugo both looked up.
‘Oh, hello. I didn’t hear the door go.’ Hugo grinned at them.
‘We went to the deli and got dinner and Hugo’s making his mushroom and basil risotto.’ Freya gestured at the spread in front of them.
‘Where’s Annie?’
‘We told her to take the night off.’ Freya waved a hand. ‘That girl works far too hard.’
‘How about a carpet picnic?’ Hugo asked.
‘A carpet picnic?’ Frankie stared at her parents.
‘Yes, sweetheart. Have you never had one?’ Freya came around the island and Frankie could see that she was wearing one of the housekeeper’s aprons.
‘No.’
‘Well, you are in for a treat!’ Freya clapped her hands. ‘Here, you two take the wine through to the lounge and find a movie to watch. Your father and I will bring the food in a bit.’
Jonas accepted the bottle of wine from Hugo and two clean glasses, and Frankie led the way into the lounge. She couldn’t speak; she was unable to formulate the words that were spinning around her head into coherent sentences.
She sank onto one of the plush sofas and curled her feet up under her as Jonas filled the two glasses then handed one to her.
‘I’ll look for a film, shall I?’
She nodded.
Jonas sat next to her as he scanned the channels, occasionally asking her if she’d seen this or that movie and if she fancied it. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she didn’t care what they watched as long as they were all together. But she really didn’t. She was overwhelmed by what she’d just seen and terrified of doing or saying anything that might upset it, so she sat still as a statue, waiting to see what would happen next.
When her father entered the lounge, he had two large patchwork quilts under his arms. He pushed the other sofa back and spread one quilt out on the floor, then gestured at the sofa Frankie and Jonas were sitting on. Jonas got up and pushed the sofa back effortlessly, even though Frankie was still sitting on it, then Hugo spread the other quilt out in front of her sofa.
Freya came in with a large tray of food.
‘I’ll go and get the rest,’ Hugo said.
‘Frankie, darling, you need to sit on the floor.’
‘What?’ Frankie had a vision of Grandma’s reaction when she’d found Frankie sitting on the lounge floor when she was about eight. Grandma had told her that the floor was for pets and not for humans and that she should sit as she’d been taught to do, on the sofa, back straight and legs to one side, crossed at the ankles. She’d barely been allowed a childhood at all, Grandma had been so caught up with the importance of appearances and what was right and proper.
‘Come here.’ Jonas took her hand and helped her stand up then he sat down on the quilt and she sat next to him.
‘Now, help yourselves to whatever you want.’ Freya handed them plates. ‘We got cheeses, breads, meats, dips, olives, sun-dried tomatoes, Hugo’s risotto… and so on.’
‘It looks delicious.’ Jonas nudged Frankie.
‘It does. Thanks.’
‘My pleasure.’ Freya held her gaze and Frankie saw a flash of uncertainty there. For all that her mother seemed confident and happy, beneath the surface she was just as vulnerable as Frankie was. They were both trying to navigate their way around this new situation, as was her father. Thank goodness that Jonas was here to relieve the tension that would otherwise have been unbearable, because if he’d been absent, then they might have felt compelled to discuss everything that had built up over the years more quickly, and sometimes certain topics required a gentler approach, to be dealt with softly and slowly.
Once Hugo had brought in the rest of the food, as well as another bottle of wine from his well-stocked cellar, Jonas ran through the movie options.
‘I think we should go with that new Marvel one.’ Frankie smiled.
‘The Thor one?’ Jonas frowned at her.
‘Oh yes, let’s watch that one!’ Freya said. ‘I always think that Jonas is a bit like that Chris what’s-his-name.’
Jonas shook his head, but he was smiling. His lovely, open and honest smile that Frankie was growing quite fond of.
*
As the final credits rolled, Frankie drained her wine glass then placed it on the coffee table. She’d been absorbed in the movie but not so much that she hadn’t noticed the glances her parents shared or how they laughed at the same scenes and lines of dialogue. She’d also been conscious of Jonas at her side – how could she not be when he’d offered her food, topped up her wine and smiled at her now and then, lifting her heart and making her feel that everything would be OK?
Jonas was so reassuring, just by being there, and it made her aware of what a good guy he was. Not many men could pull off caring and supportive like that. She had a feeling that whatever happened, he might be a part of her life from now on, even if remotely, as Freya’s friend. Frankie suspected she would still want to know how he was, what he was doing, and to see him again.
I will want to see him again.
The thought ricocheted around her mind, the idea of never seeing him once he returned to Norway seeming too awful to dwell on. So she wouldn’t. For now… even though he had a whole life she knew nothing about and came from a different world to the one she had lived in.
Yet hadn’t she often heard the phrase ‘opposites attract’?
*
Hugo had gone and got another bottle of wine and the four of them were lounging around the fire now, gazing into the flames as they enjoyed the dark ruby vintage Chianti.
‘Did you always want to be a photographer, Jonas?’ Hugo asked.
‘Pretty much. I tried painting when I was at school but I wasn’t very good and it frustrated me because I saw so much beauty in the world that I wanted to capture. So, when I was twelve, one of my teachers suggested photography and from there, my enthusiasm for it escalated. Every birthday and Christmas, I’d ask for money to save for the perfect camera. I started with a very basic model but when I got a job at sixteen, helping out at a building firm with stocktaking and the like, I was able to invest in better equipment.’
‘I bet your parents are proud.’ Hugo smiled.
‘My mother says she is.’
‘What about your father?’
‘Oh… he’s not around. He died when I was very young.’
‘Gosh, I’m sorry. I’d just assumed from how you spoke about your family and friends before that you had both parents around.’ Hugo grimaced.
‘Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I don’t really remember him because I was a toddler when he had a heart attack. He was older than my mother by twenty years. She tells me good things about him and says I remind
her of him and that’s a comfort. I wish I had known him but it just wasn’t meant to be and Mum always made me feel as if he was still there, which might be what you picked up on. He was a part of my life even though he wasn’t there physically, if that makes sense.’ He looked at Frankie and she nodded. She understood. Jonas didn’t feel robbed of his father because his mother had more than compensated for his loss. Sure, he’d have liked to have had him around but from what his mother had told him, his father had been ill for years and it was a miracle that they’d conceived Jonas. So she’d always told him that he was her gift from her husband, his way of making sure she had a reason to go on when he was unable to stay with her any longer.
Frankie’s situation had been different. She’d known her mother was out there somewhere, and from what he’d been told she had believed her mother hadn’t wanted or loved her. None of it was true but that was what she’d been led to believe. Not by Hugo, apparently, but by her grandmother, and Jonas wondered what sort of woman her grandmother was. Who did that to a child?
‘What about you, Frankie?’ Freya asked. ‘Did you always want to go into management consultancy?’
Frankie sat up and crossed her legs.
‘Not really.’
‘I’m afraid that Frankie was kind of… directed into her career.’ Hugo hung his head and stared into his wine glass. ‘It’s all quite beastly now that I look back at it.’
‘I wanted to do something creative, to follow a career in the arts in some way. I wasn’t really sure how but I did know I wanted the freedom of working for myself.’ Frankie sighed. ‘However, Grandma said I needed to do something sensible and to follow a career that would earn me a decent wage and reputation. She suggested a few things like law and accountancy and I knew it wasn’t worth putting up a fight. After some work experience with an acquaintance of hers, I decided to go into management consultancy because there seemed to be a gap in the market.’
Love at the Northern Lights Page 16
