Christmas Wishes

by Sue Moorcroft

  Nico jumped up and followed them to the door but soon returned wearing a baffled expression. Carina, too, looked surprised. ‘Have I offended him?’ Nico asked her in Swedish, presumably so Josie didn’t ask a load of questions.

  Carina shrugged. ‘He’s been tense lately. Probably it’s a reaction to your father’s illness.’

  They spent Monday morning helping Carina and her choir clear up after the Lucia service. White and gold festive flower arrangements remained in place but a couple of hundred people dropped a surprising amount of tissues and sweet papers. In the afternoon they drove into the snowy forest, which had the happy consequence of sending Maria to sleep, making her fresh for the evening ice hockey.

  It was Hannah’s first live match, sitting up on the tiered rows by the halfway line. ‘These are great seats!’ Nico enthused, eyes darting about as if trying to absorb every detail of the brightly lit and colourful rink. HV71 was the local team and Nico was a lifelong fan. Josie was happy because there would be hotdogs and Maria was happy because the stiff programme, folded like a fan and banged on her leg with gusto, made a sound like loud applause.

  Josie, however, forgot hotdogs the moment the players burst out of the tunnel in a shower of fireworks and was literally on the edge of her seat. ‘Goal!’ she yelled, arms aloft. ‘No, no goal. Nearly a goal, eh, Dad? Ooooooooh, that man banged into the other man!’

  ‘Enthusiastic defence,’ Nico explained economically, craning to watch a forward flying up the rink as opposing defence men swarmed to block him.

  ‘Owwwww!’ protested Josie, as a back smashed the forward into the boards. ‘You didn’t used to smoosh people against the side like that when you played, did you, Dad?’

  ‘Wellllll …’ Nico coloured.

  The ‘smooshed’ player shoved the enthusiastic defender, who shoved back and added a few short jabs of his stick for emphasis and the referee blew a foul. ‘You didn’t get in fights, did you Dad? You didn’t bang into people or sorry-not-sorry trip them up? You never got put in the penalty box, Dad? It’s like a naughty seat!’

  Nico was fire engine red by now. ‘Welllllllll …’ He rubbed a hand over his jaw. ‘Darling, it’s a physical game.’

  Hannah smothered a grin as his daughter turned an astonished face his way. ‘Dad! You did,’ Josie breathed. ‘You were a naughty hockey player.’

  ‘I was a back. Had to protect my goalie,’ Nico defended himself. ‘Watch the game.’

  By the time they went home, full of hotdogs, Maria was half asleep but Josie still wired and clamouring to know when they could watch another game. Nico got her to bed by letting her watch a past Sweden versus Switzerland match on her iPad. When he came downstairs he disappeared into the kitchen, returning with two glasses and a bottle of white wine.

  Hannah put aside her e-reader. ‘Josie’s been bitten by the ice hockey bug.’

  He passed her a glass and dropped down to join her on the sofa, swinging his legs up on the footstool. As before, his shoulder settled warmly against hers. ‘I’m still stinging from being branded a naughty hockey player.’

  She gurgled at the memory of his heated cheeks. ‘You were squirming.’ The wine was cold and slid down her throat like nectar. Or what she assumed nectar might taste like.

  ‘At least she said “naughty” rather than “dirty”,’ he observed.

  ‘It’s better to be naughty than dirty?’ Hannah felt herself settle against him, as if their bodies knew each other. Funny how she could be both super-aware of him yet totally relaxed in his company.

  He regarded her through slitted eyes. ‘I’m pretty sure I could be either.’

  Then, as if he hadn’t made a remark loaded with innuendo he asked her what she’d thought of the match while heat spread from her cheeks to every other part of her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  After taking the early train through a snowscape that could have been made from blinding white icing they arrived in Stockholm on Tuesday in time to dump their overnight bags at their hotel and set off on a blue tram through the wintry city. Soft feather snowflakes floated down, forming giant eyebrows over windows and making all the statues look as if they wore barrister’s wigs. Hannah was excited to be back but apprehensive about confronting Albin.

  ‘Train!’ Maria kept declaring, apparently unconvinced that ‘tram’ was the correct name for their smooth, swooshing mode of transport.

  Josie said, ‘I don’t see a tram’s much different to a train either, except it runs through the traffic.’

  ‘Then that’s the difference,’ observed Carina, adjusting Josie’s fleece hat.

  They alighted near the Swedish History Museum because Josie wanted to visit the Gold Room and make a wish. ‘There’s loads and loads of gold down there!’ she cried, with a skipping shuffle of her snow boots.

  Hannah had visited but pretended to be a Gold Room virgin to give Josie the pleasure of showing her down the stairs past the enormous vault doors. They took photos of each other with towering rune stones then wandered around glass cabinets that glowed with enough treasure for a thousand pirates.

  ‘See those big gold necklace collar thingies?’ Josie tugged Hannah’s sleeve. ‘They look like seven plain strands but if we take a photo and zoom in – look!’

  ‘Wow!’ breathed Hannah, impressed by the on-screen image. ‘Teeny tiny patterns all over. How on earth did they do that?’

  ‘They were Swedish,’ Josie said, as if that explained the unearthly skill required. Poring over the magnified image they could make out not only minute circles and scrolls gracing each strand but tiny figures, both human and other, carved into the solder joining the strands together. It prickled Hannah’s skin to think that fifteen or sixteen centuries ago this stunning piece of jewellery graced the neck of a Scandinavian chief.

  Maria’s interest in gold waning, they approached the circular pool at the centre of the vault, leaning over the thick railings to gaze at coins shimmering like a gilded carpet of autumn leaves beneath the water. Sifting through the kronor in their pockets for coins, everyone made a wish. Josie was very secretive about hers, screwing up her entire face with the effort of wishing. Carina was pensive as she threw her coin, eyebrows knitting. Nico’s expression was hard to read, though the planes of his face were captured perfectly in the golden light, and he flipped his coin so that it spun high in the air before hitting the water with a tiny splash.

  When it came to Hannah’s turn she found herself making one of those wishes that are half-formed in the back of your mind, a yearning you’ve hardly admitted to yourself. It concerned Nico.

  Maria, unfamiliar with the concept of wishing, was happy to hurl coins into the water, clapping at the tinkling splash as they hit the surface. ‘More money, Mydad!’ she urged, and cleared the adults of their small change while they laughed at her beaming smile.

  ‘Let’s head for Skansen while it’s still light,’ Nico suggested. Skansen was on the island of Djurgården, which meant, literally, animal garden. A bus carried them to the main gate. As they bought tickets the snow stopped falling, though it still clung to every twig and rolled a white carpet over the paths that wound up through a rocky slope. Hannah had come to the vast open-air museum of Skansen for musical events but the rest hadn’t been sophisticated enough for Albin. However, Nico and Carina knew Skansen well enough to select a route without consulting the map.

  The clouds cleared, bouncing the winter sun blindingly from the snow and turning shadows blue as they explored old dwellings that had been gathered from all over Sweden to form exhibits. Hannah was particularly struck by a home for two families that, although basic and old-fashioned to her, had still been occupied recently enough for a photograph of the final occupants to stand on the mantel. Josie liked the old school house because its ceiling-scraping Christmas tree was hung with handmade ornaments of coloured paper and oranges studded with cloves. Ladies in traditional dress gave them delicious warm pepparkakor to munch.

  They meandered onward to the
animal enclosures, gazing down at a lean, thickly pelted wolf pack playing in the snow like puppies. One wolf lifted its long snout and howled, its ruff sticking out like a lion’s mane. ‘Woooooooooo,’ Maria crooned back.

  They saw lynx, wolverines – or ‘funny badgers’ as Josie declared them – and a huge, lugubrious elk who lay comfortably chewing, gazing back at them through rustic wooden rails. A couple of his buddies stalked up on their long legs to snuffle through oversized noses, making Josie laugh. ‘It’s awesome here,’ she said. ‘It’s like Narnia. Magically snowy, the little houses are from the olden days and the animals are weird.’

  ‘They’re not weird,’ Carina reproved her. ‘They’re Swedish.’

  Josie’s eyes danced as if she could comment but Nico lifted an eyebrow so she returned her gaze to the elk instead. Hannah wondered if she’d ever have an eyebrow that could discourage a cheeky comment like that.

  They paused at the cafeteria to eat then carried on, Nico teasing Josie when she mistook lights in the shape of icicles as the real thing, popping Maria on his shoulders when she tired, catching Carina’s elbow when she slipped on an icy patch. Smiling at Hannah as if checking she was there.

  They waited until nearly three to see the sunset, gorgeous over the water, making silhouettes of the buildings and spires of the other shore and turning the snow a breathtaking pastiche of pink and apricot.

  Fairy lights shone out as dusk darkened the sky to lavender blue and they made their way to the exit to begin the trek back to the hotel. Maria became whiney and overtired so they stopped for hot chocolate and cookies. ‘Hey, hey,’ Nico said, drawing her onto his knee. ‘Cheer up, kid. These cookies have chocolate chips.’ Maria took the cookie but was almost too worn out to eat.

  Josie leaned her head on Carina’s shoulder and yawned. ‘I’m tired too. We walked about a hundred miles.’

  ‘Or maybe two,’ Hannah joked. ‘It was so beautiful at Skansen. I could go on exploring for ages.’

  ‘Don’t take me with you,’ groused Josie, munching a cookie with her eyes shut.

  Their hotel was in the heart of the city at Vasaplan. The girls were so exhausted that Hannah ordered a seven-seater Uber on her app and occupied the middle row with Josie and Carina while Nico and Maria took the back. They edged through the traffic past massive reindeer made of a constellation of tiny lights and people hunching into their coats and tramping paths in the snow.

  Maria fell asleep and descended into red-faced, kicking revolt when lifted from the car. In the hotel’s reception, Nico tried to calm her with cuddles and Hannah distracted Josie from what she termed her ‘dead feet’ by counting the glass balls suspended from the lofty ceiling. Carina, as she’d made the booking, went to check in.

  By the time she returned, Maria had wound down into moaning wails and Josie had snapped at her to shut up. ‘Well, well!’ Carina clasped Josie’s hands and pulled her to her feet. ‘Two tired, grouchy girls. But, good news! In the family room is a whirlpool bath. Just the thing to cheer you up. And then we’ll have supper here in the hotel and watch TV together. It will be fun.’

  It didn’t sound like a fun way to spend an evening in Stockholm to Hannah but Josie brightened and Maria wiped her nose on Nico’s coat and sat up.

  Carina gave key cards to Hannah and Nico. ‘I’ll take the family room with the girls. I don’t spend enough time with Josie and I’d like to know little Maria better.’

  Nico halted in his tracks. ‘Surely I’m taking the family room with the girls?’

  Carina pulled off his black knitted hat and tousled his hair as if he was about ten. ‘Nico, I have paid for the rooms, so I decide. Take advantage of a night off and relax. You need it.’ She sounded as if she were telling him off. ‘Maria and Josie, you want to play in Farmor’s whirlpool bath and eat nice things in front of the TV, don’t you?’

  Both girls answered, ‘Yes!’ and grabbed Carina’s hands. The overnight bags were collected from the luggage room and they took the lift. At the third floor, Carina and the girls wished Nico and Hannah a cheery goodbye and turned up the green-carpeted corridor as the doors swished shut. The lift slid smoothly onwards up to Floor Six.

  Nico contemplated his empty hands. ‘I hardly know what to do.’ He grinned but Hannah wondered how often in the past few years he’d found himself without anyone to look after outside work hours. When the lift doors reopened they stepped out into another corridor, this one carpeted in beige, and found their rooms were opposite one another.

  Nico glanced from one door to the other and smiled. ‘Would you have dinner with me? Or are you deserting me for a whirlpool bath too?’

  She smiled back, her heart kicking at the walls of her chest. ‘Dinner would be great.’

  He glanced at his watch. ‘About an hour?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  They turned to opening their respective doors, Hannah taking two goes to insert her card the right way around.

  Inside her room, which held two four-foot beds rubbing shoulders in snowy bedlinen, she dropped her bag and pulled off her hat. Was Would you have dinner with me? different to Fancy dinner? or Looks like it’s just us? Was it … a date?

  If so, she was for it. The longer she spent with Nico the more he occupied her thoughts. Anyway, date or not, she had no worries over what to wear. She’d brought only jeans and a couple of tops.

  She showered and, choosing the more evening-y of the tops, a cold-shoulder turquoise velvet, dried her hair while checking the family WhatsApp. Rob had posted: Saw Nan and Brett. Both fine.

  Hannah replied: I’ll ring Nan myself tomorrow. Gave Lars your good wishes. He hopes to be out of hospital in a couple of days.

  Mo jumped in. Where are all the lovely pix of Sweden?

  Here! Hannah quickly uploaded views of Christmas-card-perfect Stockholm, the sunset turning the snow pink and apricot and the snowman family in Lars’s garden.

  When her hair was dry and glossy she left it down so she could pull her hat over the top and scrabbled for a mascara wand in the bottom of her handbag. No matter how informal Swedes were, an evening in Stockholm felt wrong with an entirely naked face.

  Then Nico tapped at her door and she answered, feeling tingly. He’d shaved and his hair was as neat as his tumbled ripples got, his skin a healthy pink from the day in the open air. ‘It’s snowing again,’ he said.

  She grabbed her coat before he could suggest anything boring like eating in the hotel. ‘Stockholm’s magical on dark snowy nights.’

  His face lit up. ‘Then I’ll take you to one of my favourite haunts.’

  They went down in the lift, dragging on hats and scarves as they exited the automatic doors to the street, the whistling wind driving the falling snow diagonally. Hannah pulled down her hat as her ears began to burn. ‘Whoo! It’s turned wild.’ Snowflakes stung her skin like Jack Frost’s kisses.

  ‘A storm’s forecast.’ He helped pull her hood over her hat then they set off along gritted pavements that crunched beneath their feet, turning off when they reached Mäster Samuelsgatan then off again to cut through Sergels Torg, its geometric paving disguised by grit and slush. Fairy lights flickered and writhed through bare trees like snakes at a rave and the fragrance from a kiosk selling Halv special hot dogs stoked Hannah’s hunger.

  ‘Where are we going?’ She clasped her hood close to shield her face from the snow.

  Nico didn’t seem to hear, so she tugged his gloved hand. His fingers curled around hers as he answered. ‘Near Kungsan.’

  ‘Kungsan’ was the pet name for Kungsträdgården or ‘King’s Garden’, a popular spot in Stockholm and one Hannah knew well from her daily walks between Gamla Stan and Östermalm. It was hard to think of that though as she absorbed the seamless way they’d ended up holding hands. It felt warm and promising and … well, nice.

  They tried to talk as they passed beneath dangling Christmas lights, gold against the night sky, but the driving snow stole their breath and the wind made their words swirl around the
m. Nico laughed, blinking snow from his eyes. ‘To think we could have stayed safely indoors.’

  The streets were half-empty in the deluge and they soon reached the restaurant, falling in through the door, gasping at the warm air replacing the cold in their lungs. Cutlery gleamed on royal blue cloths and a cream and gold tiled wood stove stood in the corner of the room. They were able to get a table by the window with a view over the water to Stockholm Palace and the bridges to Gamla Stan.

  ‘Beautiful,’ Hannah breathed, admiring the lights of the city playing over the glassy night-time sea, enjoying the lazy hum of conversation and clink of cutlery from the other diners.

  ‘How about fizz?’ Nico suggested, reading the wine menu. He took her hand, switching her attention from the view to him.

  ‘Fizz sounds fantastic,’ she murmured, feeling as if several glasses were already dancing through her veins when his leg came to rest against hers. It was hard to concentrate on the leather-bound food menu so she chose the local speciality. ‘Meatballs. I can’t come back to Sweden without eating meatballs.’

  ‘Fizz and meatballs, a meal fit for the king.’ Nico ordered and the smiling woman who served them brought a silver ice bucket containing a bottle with Hatt et Söner grande cuvée on the crest-like label. Actual champagne, not just a bottle of cava. Hannah’s skin prickled with the feeling that something special was happening.

  Nico’s gaze was warm when it rested upon her. ‘I telephoned Dad before we came out.’ He still held her hand.

  Hannah was distracted by the feel of his skin, warm and soft yet slightly rough, like a cat’s tongue. She had to force herself to concentrate on his words. ‘How is he?’

  ‘Much more his old self,’ Nico answered drily, the flickering flame from the candle on their table reflecting in his eyes. ‘He told me how lucky I was to be out this evening with a beautiful, warm, kind, intelligent woman.’ A smile made his eyes bluer. ‘As if I hadn’t noticed.’