‘Sorry, Frankie, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ Her mother rubbed her arm gently. ‘I couldn’t sleep so I came down to get a drink.’
‘Me too.’ Frankie held up the milk. ‘Tea?’
‘Yes, please.’
Frankie went over to the door and turned the lights on, closing the door carefully to avoid waking anyone else, then she got another mug from the cupboard and made the tea. In her big slipper boots, she shuffled across the kitchen and handed Freya her mug.
‘Shall we sit down or are you going back to bed?’ Freya asked.
‘No, I won’t be able to sleep.’ Frankie shook her head. ‘Shall we sit in here?’
They pulled out stools from under the kitchen island in the centre of the large room and sat down, both nursing their mugs.
‘Why couldn’t you sleep?’ Frankie asked.
‘Too many thoughts swirling around in my head.’ Freya rubbed her eyes. ‘It’s so strange being back here, in this house. At every turn I’m being assaulted by memories and ghosts.’
‘Is it awful?’
‘Not awful… some of the memories are good but because of how things ended, it’s also a bit unsettling. It makes me wish that I could go back in time and change things.’
‘I know.’ Frankie sipped her tea, finding comfort in the familiar act. She could understand how it must be odd for her mother to be in the house after so long, and how the past must be ever present here. ‘I guess when I asked you to stay I didn’t really think it through properly. All I could see was that I wanted you to stay.’
‘It’s fine and I’m glad we came. It’s been lovely to spend time with you and Hugo again.’
‘Are you all right with Dad now? I mean, I know that must also be very strange but you two do seem to get on so well.’
Freya chewed her bottom lip then sipped her tea. As she exhaled, steam drifted from her tea and disappeared into the air. If only hurt and regret could do the same, Frankie thought, then it would be a lot easier to move on.
‘It’s a complicated situation for Hugo and me. There’s a lot of hurt there and we definitely need to talk a lot more. We’re both sorry for the past and for the pain and sadness that we caused each other, and you, of course, but even with all the anger and… the rest, I don’t hate him. I can see how sorry he is that he didn’t do more to protect me from Helen and I know now why he didn’t come after me. If only we had spoken more then, we might have been able to save things, to find a way to be together as a family. But, as with all things, people can be stubborn, they can be angry and they can run away to avoid any more confrontation. Hugo and I did both, and we know that we should have spoken sooner. However, we were a lot younger then and life was… more intense because of your grandmother and because of our different backgrounds. Love can work between people from different classes, even different countries, cultures and religions, I’m sure of it. But back then, it seems that neither of us was one hundred per cent convinced of that, and insecurities, along with my illness and Helen’s interference, all seemed to be insurmountable.’
Frankie reached out and took her mother’s hand. ‘So what happens now?’
Freya smiled. ‘Now, we get on with our lives but we keep talking. We see what we can fix, mainly to make your life as good as it can be, and… to be honest, I’d like to have Hugo in my life again, even in the capacity of friend. We were friends before we fell in love and I have missed him.’ She squeezed Frankie’s hand. ‘Whatever happened between us, we will always have you and that means we have a bond that exists through you.’
Frankie nodded. ‘I’m glad. I’d like you to be able to get on because I want to see more of you and if you hated Dad, it would be quite difficult.’
‘We don’t hate each other. We never did, Frankie. Life just got in the way, as it sometimes does.’
‘Do you want more tea?’
‘Yes!’ Freya frowned. ‘Do you know… I used to do a lot of baking in this kitchen when Hugo and I were first married.’
‘What did you bake?’
‘Oh, all sorts of things. I loved this kitchen and how much space there is to move around. The oven is new, of course, but look at it. I bet you could make cakes and pies and scones all at the same time with the double ovens.’
Frankie looked at the oven and a wave of sadness washed over her. It was something she’d often thought of as a child, being able to bake with her mother, to do all those normal things that families did. But that time had passed and she couldn’t get it back.
‘Frankie, darling, would you like to make something with me?’
‘What? Now?’
Freya nodded. ‘Why not? We’re both awake and soon we’ll be hungry. Why don’t we see what’s in the cupboards then whip up some scrummy delights to surprise your father and Jonas?’
‘I’d love to.’
Frankie’s stomach fizzed with delight as she located some aprons and washed her hands at the sink. She didn’t know if Freya realized how wonderful her suggestion was, but for Frankie it meant a great deal.
One by one, her dreams were coming true…
* * *
Jonas descended the stairs slowly, yawning as he reached the ground floor. He’d woken from a deep sleep and felt quite rested, even though it had taken him a while to drop off the night before. He’d had a lot of fun taking photographs of Frankie and Freya as they modelled Frankie’s fashion range and it had been a good evening, but later on, when Freya had told Frankie that they had to return to Norway, he’d seen sadness settle in Frankie’s features.
It had hurt him to see it. Strangely. As if their connection had deepened further. He’d been glad to go to bed, hoping it was the effect of the champagne and the fun they’d had, that he was just getting carried away with everything because of that and because he was in a foreign country. Back home in Norway, with his mother at hand, he’d feel differently, he was sure.
At least he hoped he would. Otherwise, leaving Frankie behind when he went home was going to prove to be tough. He hated to think of her here alone, except for her father, rattling around in this big old house, wondering whether her grandmother was going to make it home from hospital and when she’d be able to see Freya again.
Never before had life seemed so complicated.
Or so… exciting. It was strange, this rolling in his stomach that thinking of Frankie created, but it was there and he couldn’t deny it. He liked being with her, seeing her smile and even though he knew that she was from a very different background to him, he couldn’t suppress the way he desired her. He didn’t want to suppress it because it was so different from anything he’d experienced before. And yet… surely this was just a one-way street to heartbreak for both of them, that was if Frankie even saw him that way, of course.
He crossed the hallway, the grey light of a winter’s morning making him shiver, and just as he reached the kitchen door, the grandfather clock chimed seven o’clock and made him jump. What was it with clocks like that? Why did it have to be so loud? His internal body clock was pretty accurate, so he’d never feel the need for a huge clock like that to remind him what time it was, even with the time difference.
The kitchen door was closed and he stood outside it, wondering if there was some upper-class custom that said you couldn’t enter when it was closed.
Then he heard laughter from behind it so he pressed his ear to the wood.
And listened.
He could hear Frankie and Freya, chattering away, as well as pots and pans clattering and clunking. What were they doing in there?
‘Can I help you?’
A voice from behind made him turn quickly and he lost his balance. He flung his arms out to steady himself and grabbed the kitchen door handle, which swung open under his weight, sending him flying into the kitchen.
He closed his eyes for a moment, willing what had just happened to undo, but when he opened them he found three women staring down at him: Freya, Frankie and Annie the housekeeper who’d startled him in th
e hallway.
‘Jonas!’ Freya knelt at his side. ‘Are you all right?’
Frankie knelt next to her and placed her hand on his arm. ‘Jonas? Can you hear us?’
He smiled then nodded. ‘I’m fine. I just slipped as I went to open the door.’
‘Hmmm.’ Annie’s noise of disapproval made him blush.
‘I wondered what was going on in here and didn’t want to come in unless it was OK to do so.’ He sat up and rubbed his shoulder, the part of him to hit the floor first. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’
‘It’s fine,’ Freya said as she stood up and held out a hand to him. ‘Frankie and I were making breakfast.’
There was a gasp from Annie as she entered the kitchen and looked around her at the mess. There were pots and pans on every surface, cracked eggs, bags of sugar and flour littered the island and Frankie and Freya were covered in flour too, as if they’d been throwing it up in the air then dancing around as it fell. But they were grinning broadly and the kitchen was filled with the most delicious aromas of cakes and pastries.
Jonas allowed Frankie to lead him to a stool at the island and to help him to sit down, even though she was much smaller than he was and even though he didn’t really need her help; his pride was a bit bruised but the rest of him wasn’t hurt at all.
‘Don’t worry, Annie, we’ll clean it all up.’ Freya gestured at the mess.
‘Yes, Annie, why don’t you go and relax?’ Frankie said. ‘In fact, take the day off.’
Annie frowned. ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that. Mr Ashford might need me.’
‘No, it’s fine. Go and have a nice day. Grandma’s not here and I’ll make sure your wages aren’t affected.’
Annie looked at the mess once more, then at Freya and Frankie, then she smiled briefly, as if she was unaccustomed to being given extra holidays.
‘Well… if you’re sure.’
‘I am! Bye!’ Frankie ushered the older woman from the kitchen then turned back to Jonas and Freya.
‘Are you sure you didn’t hurt yourself, Jonas?’
‘I’m fine, honestly. I take it that you two have been having some fun?’
‘Oh yes.’ Freya opened the oven door and lifted out a tray of enormous muffins. ‘We’ve been baking together.’
‘For the first time.’ Frankie smiled then went and got a tray of pastries out of the other oven.
When she placed them on the island in front of Jonas, then met his gaze, there were tears in her eyes.
But Jonas could tell that they were happy ones.
* * *
Frankie finished loading the dishwasher then closed the door.
‘All done?’ Freya asked as she folded a cloth over and placed it next to the sink.
‘I think so.’ Frankie scanned the kitchen, looking for flour, utensils or crumbs that they might have missed during their big clean-up, but she didn’t spot any. Her eyes landed on Jonas who was sweeping the floor around the island in the middle of the kitchen. He was wearing a white T-shirt and baggy grey jogging bottoms that sat on his slim hips. He looked too big for the room, as if he was some kind of giant better suited to the wilds of Norway than an English kitchen. But he did look good, with his blond hair tied back from his face and his golden beard shining in the electric light.
‘Well, in that case, it’s time to eat!’ Freya announced.
‘Thank goodness for that. I’m losing weight as I sweep. And I can’t help drooling… over the food you’ve baked, I mean.’
Pink spots appeared on Jonas’s cheeks and Frankie wondered why he’d felt the need to mention the food. What else would he have been drooling over? Unless…
Surely it couldn’t be her in her silky pyjamas and apron, sleeves rolled up and covered in flour with her hair in a messy bun? She was hardly picture-perfect this morning but she didn’t care. She’d had a blast baking with Freya, and they had made muffins, cherry tarts, sultana scones and cheese scones. The kitchen smelt glorious, homely, and as Freya taught her how to rub butter into the flour for pastry and scones and how to rest the pastry before rolling it out, Frankie had felt the bond between them deepen. It was such a simple act, that of baking, but it could be so much fun. Freya had proved to be a patient teacher, evidently as keen to teach as Frankie was to learn, and Frankie had experienced a shifting inside, as she accepted that although they’d never be able to turn back the clock, they could build on their relationship from now on. Maybe even spend more days like this, waking early and enjoying a mug of tea as the sky outside turned from black to grey, as the house warmed up and the wind outside howled around, as the sky threatened more wintry weather. During the past few hours, even when Jonas had come down, Frankie had felt warmer than she ever had done before, as if the only thing that mattered was the here and now, right here at the heart of her home.
And it was all because of Freya. Her mother had come home. At last.
Of course, she was leaving the next day, but Frankie knew that they’d stay in touch now. As for Jonas, who knew? She really hoped so.
‘Jonas, help yourself now.’
‘He already has.’ Freya giggled. ‘But we do need more tea and perhaps someone should wake your father.’
‘No need.’ Hugo entered the kitchen, freshly shaven, showered and dressed. ‘The delicious aromas drifted up the stairs and woke me up. Looks like we’re in for a treat, eh, Jonas?’
Jonas nodded, pointing at his mouth to show that it was full of muffin.
‘I could get used to this,’ Hugo said quietly, as if to himself.
‘To having cakes baked for you in the morning?’ Freya asked as she switched the kettle on.
‘That…’ Hugo nodded. ‘And to having you all here, to having a family.’
So could I, Frankie thought. So could I.
Chapter 28
The drive to the airport on Thursday was quiet, as the previous day had been following the enjoyable morning of baking. Frankie and her father had visited Grandma in the afternoon, and when they’d returned, Jonas and Freya were packed and ready to leave early the next day to catch their flight. They ate dinner around the dining room table and talked about Christmas plans and the music charts, about art, science and photography. Then they’d all gone to bed before ten, agreeing that an early start would require an early night, but knowing that they wouldn’t sleep well.
Sadness gnawed at Frankie as Hugo pulled into a space in the short-stay car park. She’d only just got Freya back and saying goodbye to her was going to be painful. And there was Jonas. Her feelings for him were so conflicting. She was physically attracted to him but there was more to it than that. Something inside her seemed to recognize something inside him, as if they were kindred spirits, drawn together by something she couldn’t explain. But, of course, she was probably being overly romantic even entertaining such thoughts. Frankie wasn’t a starry-eyed dreamer, never had been at any rate, but the handsome Norwegian made her want to be.
If she was a hopeless romantic, if she had that wonderful sense of abandonment and wasn’t hindered by her upbringing and by social awkwardness, then she’d fling herself into his arms at the airport and kiss him as if tomorrow would never come. She’d give her heart to him, even though she didn’t know if he really wanted to take it. She’d…
‘Are you coming, Frankie?’ Her dad had opened her door and was smiling as he held out his hand.
‘Oh! Yes.’ Her cheeks burned as she got out so she made a show of tucking her skinny jeans into her brown ankle boots to give them some time to cool.
Some time to get a grip!
She shook her head as they walked towards the airport terminal. Frankie Ashford needed to sort her life out, not lose her heart to unrequited love. Jonas had only ever been kind to her and besides, he lived in Norway, she lived in England. It might even be why she found herself attracted to him: because she could never have him; this could never work. Perhaps Jonas was the perfect man for her to yearn for because nothing could ever come of it. The automate
d doors swished open and they passed through, entering the airport terminal. Even though it was early, the airport was busy, with people arriving to collect relatives coming to London for Christmas shopping and celebrations, and those jetting off to foreign climes for the holidays. Frankie couldn’t help wishing that they were collecting her mother and Jonas rather than dropping them off.
They walked further into the building and the aromas of coffee and pastries filled the air. Frankie’s stomach grumbled, reminding her that it was empty. Her father had made plenty of toast but she’d been unable to force a mouthful down, even declining some of the melt-in-the-mouth muffins they’d baked the previous day, although she had drunk two mugs of coffee in an attempt to wake herself up after a restless night.
‘I guess we need to check in,’ Freya said to Jonas.
He nodded. His face was pale in the false lighting of the airport and he’d tied his hair back which showed off his manly beard.
‘Well, uh… it’s been really good seeing you, Freya,’ Hugo said awkwardly. This was the man Frankie knew and recognized, as if saying goodbye to his wife had turned him back into his regular self.
‘Oh come here, you fool!’ Freya opened her arms and hugged Hugo. He stiffened then relaxed and hugged Freya back. They stayed that way for a while, as if afraid to finally let go.
‘I’ll let you know once I’ve shown the photographs to my friend.’ Jonas adjusted his bag strap up his shoulder. ‘Hopefully it’ll be before Christmas but if not, very soon after.’
‘Thank you. I still can’t quite believe you thought the range was good enough.’
‘Believe me, it’s very good indeed.’
His blue eyes roamed her face and she gazed into them, wanting to remember exactly how beautiful they were. She was worried that she’d forget as soon as she left the airport, that he was a part of something she’d never be able to fully hold onto. And that applied to her mother too. Letting them go was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
‘What will you do now?’ Jonas asked.
Love at the Northern Lights Page 20
