‘Thank you, darling, this is a wonderful gift and we’ll hang it just there, shall we?’ He pointed at the wall above the dining room fireplace where a watercolour of an English landscape had sat for as long as Frankie had lived.
‘But what will Grandma say? She won’t be happy about that.’ Frankie bit her bottom lip, imagining the ruckus it could cause.
‘I’ll deal with Grandma. Besides, it’s about time we made some changes around here.’
She helped her father to move the old painting then together they hung Jonas’s photograph. On the dark papered wall, it looked right, as if it belonged there.
‘I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?’
Hugo popped the cork on a bottle of champagne then poured it into the crystal flutes.
‘You know what?’ he asked as they clinked glasses.
‘What?’
‘I feel a bit… lost in here.’
‘But we always eat in here. Except for when we have breakfast in the kitchen.’ Something that had, admittedly, only happened since Grandma had been absent.
‘I know but… I think we should kick back and relax. Let’s take dinner into the drawing room and eat in front of the TV.’
‘You mean have a carpet picnic?’
‘Exactly!’
So they did. Hugo found an old festive movie on Netflix and they settled down to enjoy their Christmas dinner together.
When they’d finished the main course, they ate large portions of rich fruity Christmas pudding covered in sweet spicy brandy butter and Frankie felt as if she would burst.
‘I really enjoyed that,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘It wasn’t anything special. Not compared to the usual festive feasts.’
‘But it was because we got to enjoy it together in such a relaxed way. I think it was the best Christmas dinner I’ve ever eaten.’
He smiled, peering out from under the gold paper crown that had slipped over his eyebrows as he ate.
‘What do you think next year will bring, Dad?’
He frowned, causing the hat to slide even further down, so he pushed it back up, leaving it at a jaunty angle on his head. In the firelight, he looked relaxed and younger than he had done for as long as Frankie had known him, which was strange, considering the fact that she’d known him for almost thirty years, but it was as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. This evening, he was wearing a Peruvian silk navy shirt, without a tie, so it was open at the neck, with a pair of fawn chinos. It was an outfit Frankie had bought him for Christmas and given him on Christmas Eve. It was also a less formal outfit than those her father usually wore; a strict upbringing meant that he rarely dressed so casually. He hadn’t worn it to the hospital, opting for a suit as it was Christmas Day, but he was wearing it now and it really suited him. Frankie was moved by the fact that he’d changed into it and glad she’d gone for the smaller size because he’d also lost a few pounds over recent weeks, no doubt a benefit of drinking less, as if his need for single malt to help him sleep had faded.
‘I have no idea, Frankie. It’s been a strange year this one and things have happened that I could never have imagined. Good things that have made me happier than I’ve been in years. Obviously, I’m worried about Mother but I’m also delighted you’ve been reunited with Freya.’
‘You were happy to see her too?’
‘What do you think?’ His smile lit up his face. ‘However, I have to admit to missing her already.’
Frankie reached over and took his hand. ‘I know, Dad. Me too.’
‘Seeing her after all that time made me realize – not that I’d really ever forgotten – how precious she is, in here,’ he placed his hand over his heart, ‘and how precious time is. Mother being ill also confirmed that for me. Life’s too short for living a half-life. We need to grab happiness while we can.’
‘You’re right. So, what’re you waiting for?’
‘Pardon?’
‘You should go and tell Freya.’
‘Tell her what?’
‘That you love her.’
‘Uh… I… uh…’ His lips trembled and he blinked rapidly.
‘Dad, it’s obvious.’
‘Frankie: I meant that I wanted to see more of her but going out there and declaring my love for her could be the last thing she wants.’
‘It could but you won’t know unless you try.’
‘And what if she doesn’t feel the same? I could mess up our friendship… I couldn’t bear not to see her again. To lose her again.’
‘Dad, I’m fairly certain that she loves you too. She’s missed you as much as you’ve missed her. You two are meant to be together.’
‘Where has my daughter the realist gone?’ He sat up and peered around the room. ‘Hello! Has someone replaced my sensible daughter with a romantic?’
Frankie laughed. ‘Dad, stop! Just… go and see her. At least do that and see how it goes. Then… if it’s right, you can tell her how you feel.’
‘I can’t just leave Mother.’
‘We’ll sort something out with the hospital. I don’t think she’s going to be rushing home, do you? I think that after the scare she had, she’s glad to be there.’
He nodded. ‘She told me today, when you’d gone out to get the car, that she’s going to stay on for a few more weeks. She could come home with the right care package in place but said she likes it there and is happy to pay for an extended stay. I think it’s a combination of her enjoying the attention and not wanting to burden us. She’s been so poorly.’
‘Well, there you are then.’
‘Right… uh… do I pack now?’
She laughed. ‘No, Dad! Now we are going to drink more champagne, eat our bodyweight in chocolates and watch Christmas TV. Tomorrow, we’ll look at flight times and so on, and once we’ve arranged everything, we can head out to Oslo.’
‘We?’
‘Well, you don’t think I’m going to stay home alone, do you, and miss seeing my mother again?’
‘I’m so glad you said that.’
‘Merry Christmas, Dad.’
‘Merry Christmas to you.’
As they curled up on the sofa together, eating chocolates and drinking champagne, the snow fell outside. But Frankie’s thoughts kept straying to Norway and her mother, wondering what she was doing and if she’d seen Jonas today. They’d sent texts early that morning then gone about their respective Christmases. Frankie had also sent Jonas a text, a polite message wishing him and his mother a good day, and he’d replied just as politely.
Yes, there was no way she was going to stay home when she had a chance of seeing her mother, and Jonas, again, even if it was just as a friend…
Chapter 31
‘And this is the gallery.’ Frankie and Hugo stopped in front of Freya’s place.
Hugo gazed at the front of the building then straightened his jacket. He looked so smart today with his new jeans – he’d got Frankie to help him choose them in the Harrods sale – his light blue shirt and the waistcoat she’d made for him in a navy material with contrasting light-blue paisley trim around the collar and pockets. In spite of their desire to leave London as soon as possible and head to Oslo, they hadn’t been able to leave until they’d ensured that Helen’s care was sorted at the hospital and then they’d needed to book a flight. Which hadn’t been easy over the holidays when everyone seemed to want to fly. Plus, there had been snow. More snow than they’d seen in years had fallen on Boxing Day and grounded all flights, much to their dismay.
They finally managed to book afternoon flights for the twenty-eighth of December, so with a slight delay too, it was late night when they arrived in Oslo. They went straight to the hotel where Frankie had stayed before and, after a light supper, headed to bed, keen to get to sleep so the next day would arrive.
‘Do I look all right?’ Hugo asked and a lump rose in Frankie’s throat.
‘Of course you do, Dad. You look lovely.’
‘But do I look… old?’
‘Old?’
‘Well, yes. It’s been worrying me, you see. I don’t think your mother has changed much at all. Her hair is shorter but she’s still slim and her skin is so good that she’s barely aged but when I look in the mirror I see an old man.’
‘Oh, Dad, you’re so handsome, you just don’t realize it.’ She gently stroked his cheek. ‘You’re not old and you don’t look old. You actually look younger of late and besides which, you’ve always reminded me of George Clooney.’
‘Really?’ He pushed a hand through his salt and pepper hair.
‘Really. You’re a very handsome man and the grey hair is distinguished.’
‘When your mother and I got together, I had a head of thick dark brown hair. You don’t think she looks at it now and finds it… ageing?’
‘No, I don’t. Look, George Clooney is fifty-six so you’re only two years older than him. He’s a heart-throb and has recently had twins with his younger wife. You’re a successful businessman, you’re funny and kind and… any woman would be lucky to have you.’
He coughed, clearly a bit embarrassed at the direction in which he’d led their conversation.
‘Your mother still looks terribly good though, doesn’t she?’
‘She does. Right, shall we go in?’
Frankie was itching to see Freya again but understood that this was a big deal for her dad too. She pushed the door open and walked into the cool interior of the gallery. The bell tinkled and Freya looked up from where she was poring over books at the desk.
‘Oh my darlings!’ She jumped up and rushed over to them then hugged Frankie tight.
‘Hi.’
Frankie breathed in her mother’s now familiar perfume and swallowed her emotions, sneakily wiping away a tear before her mother released her.
When she did, Freya turned to Hugo.
‘Hello, Hugo.’
‘Freya.’
They stepped closer to each other then he lifted a hand and took one of hers. He raised it to his lips and held it there, closing his eyes briefly. Freya responded by reaching out to him with her other hand and pulling him close. They held each other for a while, lost in a world that was theirs, a combination of the past and the present, and Frankie had to choke back a sob. These two people, whom she loved so much, had been kept apart by her grandmother’s harsh nature and rigid beliefs as well as by a whole load of misunderstandings and fears, and it had all been so unnecessary.
She stepped forwards and hugged them both. Her parents. Together. At last.
‘I’m so glad to see you both.’
‘We would have got here sooner but what with being unable to get a flight and needing to sort out care for Mother, it was difficult.’
‘But you’re staying for New Year, right?’
‘Yes, of course. Try and stop us.’ Hugo smiled boyishly and Frankie suspected she was seeing him as he had been all those years ago when he’d first fallen in love with her mother.
‘Where’s Jonas?’ Frankie asked, realizing that he hadn’t come through from the kitchen where she’d thought he might be.
‘He had some friends come into town and he went to meet them. I’m not officially open today and have closed until the second week of January, but he came in early this morning to help me to go through some new stock and to sort out some orders that have to go out in the new year.’
Disappointment flooded through Frankie. Though she’d refused to admit it to herself, she’d been yearning to see him and had hoped he’d be as keen to see her too. Since he’d returned to Oslo, he had stayed in contact with her via text and they’d spoken twice on the phone but it had been quite formal and focused on her designs, which he’d informed her he’d left with his acquaintance that Thursday. He could have sent them to the boutique owner in an email but said he preferred to print them out as a proper portfolio, as his acquaintance was more likely to appreciate that personal touch. Frankie had longed to speak to him about them and about his feelings but inside she’d also cringed at her desire to do so. Jonas had made his feelings – or lack of them – clear so she had better accept that.
Besides, she was here to start her new venture, to pursue her new direction in life. It could all backfire and she’d end up starting from scratch in her old career, but she wanted to give it a shot. She also wanted to be closer to her mother if possible, because now she’d found her, she didn’t want to let her go. And if the way her father was gazing at Freya was anything to go by, he didn’t want to let her go either.
‘Shall we go and get some lunch?’ Freya asked.
‘Don’t you need to finish up here?’ Frankie pointed at the desk.
‘Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.’
‘Come and look around with me, Dad.’ Frankie pointed at the displays.
‘Love to,’ he said, but he was following Freya with his eyes as she returned to the desk and sat down.
‘Dad!’ Frankie took hold of his arm then led him to the far end of the gallery. ‘Aren’t these beautiful?’
They stood in front of a range of photographs of the Norwegian wilderness. In one, a mother husky played with her pups, their fur thick and grey and their eyes bright blue.
‘Wolves?’ Hugo asked.
‘Huskies, I think.’
In another, reindeer gathered in a field, their shaggy coats protecting them from a snow storm. The camera had captured the snow in the foreground and the detail of the photograph was incredible. The next was of a sled racing across the snow as a wild reindeer dragged it. The snow ahead of the sled was flawless, but behind it, the sled had left tracks that swerved from left to right, as if the beast had been writing a message on the landscape.
‘I did that when I was here last time.’
‘It looks rather marvellous.’ Hugo nodded.
‘We can see if Jonas can arrange a trip while we’re here if you like.’
‘That would be fabulous. As long as your mother comes too.’
He kept his eyes on the photos but his lips had curved upwards, as if he was smiling all to himself.
‘I guess everything you do out here will involve my mother, right?’
A jangling of bracelets made her turn sharply. Freya was standing right behind them.
‘I hope I will be involved, seeing as how I’ve missed you both so much.’ Freya smiled.
‘Wouldn’t want to spend a minute more without you.’ Hugo coughed then laughed and Frankie shook her head.
‘I always thought you were shy and socially awkward, Dad, but it turns out you’re actually quite the flirt.’
‘It’s your mother. She brings out the charmer in me.’
‘Come on then, charmer, you can escort me to lunch.’
Freya tucked her arm into Hugo’s and they walked to the door then she turned the lights off and Frankie followed them outside, a smile playing on her own lips. It was nice getting to see another side to her dad, even if she did wish Jonas was there too so she wouldn’t feel like a complete gooseberry.
* * *
Freya took them to a bar that was warm and bright inside and where Frankie felt instantly relaxed. Light bounced off every surface and Michael Bublé played softly in the background, one of those catchy tunes that made her want to tap her feet.
‘This is a great bar and they serve the best burgers.’
‘Burgers?’ Hugo asked, his eyebrows slightly raised.
‘Yes, they’re gourmet burgers. You can have lots of different types, including vegetarian ones with a wide variety of toppings. I’ve been here with Jonas in the past and brought a few customers here too.’
A waiter arrived and took their order then brought them some water. Hugo ordered a bottle of wine then Frankie excused herself to go to the bathroom.
She followed the waiter’s directions and admired the bar as she passed it, with its mirrored walls and black and chrome decor. It certainly wasn’t a cosy English pub but it was classy and stylish. Jen would love it th
ere.
Laughter caught her attention just as she reached the short corridor that led to the toilets and she turned to see who was enjoying their afternoon.
She froze.
Did a double take.
In a corner booth, Jonas was sitting with a group of people, all of whom appeared to be physically perfect. Like him, they were tall and long-limbed. The women had flowing golden tresses and sparkly blue eyes and wore strappy silk tops with skinny jeans and fashionable boots. The men were scruffy-chic, with hair that was either long and blond or short and stylishly messy. They could easily have been the cast of a Viking movie being filmed locally. They were beautiful, strong, young and healthy and Frankie was suddenly aware of her own height, or lack of it, and her rather limp brown hair – she’d washed it last night when she’d showered the flight from her skin and hair, then gone to bed with it damp. Today, it was clean but flat. At least she did have on her good jeans and an Alexander McQueen floral shirt, but even so… she couldn’t compare to those perfect women who were laughing and joking with Jonas and his friends.
‘Excuse me.’ She jumped as a man gently tapped her shoulder. ‘I need to go through.’
‘Oh… sorry.’
She stepped out of the way, realizing that she’d been caught staring. This would never do. She hurried into the ladies’ toilet and locked herself in a cubicle. She really was an idiot. Jonas lived in Oslo; he had a whole life out here. What had she expected? That he never associated with beautiful women or enjoyed time out with friends? For all she knew, one of those women was his girlfriend or lover, perhaps more than one if he was anything like Rolo.
She shook her head. Time to get a grip. Jonas was a friend and she was behaving like some giddy schoolgirl who’d fallen for the first man who’d paid her some attention since she’d run away from her wedding. And he hadn’t really paid her any attention that could have made her fall for him, anyway, had he? He’d been kind and respectful and even offered to help her out with her fashion-designing aspirations. If she had read anything into his behaviour and the things he’d said, then that was on her. Besides, he had rejected her outright at the airport, so why was she struggling to let him go?
Love at the Northern Lights Page 23
