‘I can say what I want,’ she said. ‘Filipe’s a successful man. He doesn’t mind, do you, Filipe?’
‘I don’t mind at all,’ he said, hooking his arm through Sofia’s and winking at Claire. ‘In fact, I’m going to invite you for Christmas every year to remind me of the fact.’
He led her down his wide hallway as Archie and Blue bounded off to explore the house, Filipe’s two white cats darting out of their way. Filipe’s house was exactly as you’d imagine a Scandinavian home ought to be: crisp white walls, heated pine floors and minimalist furniture in bright, primary colours. As they passed various rooms, Sofia peered in, raising an eyebrow. Clearly Filipe was going up and up in her estimation.
‘Welcome,’ Filipe said as he led them into his large kitchen-diner, inviting them to sit at his table. He poured wine into each of their glasses then lifted his glass. ‘A very Finnish tervetuloa to you all.’
‘Kiitos paljon,’ Holly replied in near-perfect Finnish.
‘Wonderful!’ Filipe exclaimed as Milo smiled.
‘Milo sent me a phrasebook,’ Holly said. ‘I haven’t learned much, just a few bits and pieces.’
‘Claire told me you’re half-Sami, Filipe,’ Sofia said, taking a sip of her wine and leaning back in her chair. ‘She said she’s writing an article about the land disputes here. I’m not sure if she mentioned that I’m a solicitor specialising in land disputes?’
Claire exchanged a look with Alex. Why did Sofia have to dive right in with the serious talk?
‘Yes,’ Filipe replied. ‘My family come from the Inari region of Finland. The government’s trying to log there, but I’m fighting them, of course.’
‘You have legal representatives?’ Sofia asked.
Alex rolled his eyes as Claire smiled to herself.
‘I do. But let’s not bore everyone with talk of land disputes,’ Filipe said. ‘I can tell you more when we visit.’
‘We’re going to the north?’ Holly asked, face bright with excitement.
‘I told Filipe you kept banging on about the Samis and their reindeer in your letters,’ Milo said. ‘So he invited us all to join him for their traditional Boxing Day activities. Plus Claire wants to interview them all for an article she’s planning.’
Holly clapped her hands together. ‘Awesome!’
Milo laughed. ‘Thought you’d be happy.’ He turned to Alex. ‘I’ve arranged for a Pesäpallo match while we’re there too. Claire told me you were into your sport.’
Alex smiled. ‘Cheers, mate. But what’s Pesäpallo?’
Everyone laughed.
‘It’s the Finnish national sport, you’ll love it,’ Milo explained.
‘Tell Sofia what you’ve arranged for her,’ Claire said, putting her hand over Milo’s. He’d been working so hard the past few weeks arranging things for them. She wanted Sofia to see that and understand he wasn’t just the farmer who shot his brother dead.
Milo turned to Sofia. ‘Claire mentioned you’ve always been fascinated by the Northern Lights, so I’ve arranged for us to do a lantern procession up the hill where we’ll have the best chance of seeing them.’
Sofia smiled tightly, her eyes lingering over Claire and Milo’s joined hands. ‘That’s very kind of you, Milo.’
‘This is going to be the best holiday ever,’ Holly said.
‘Definitely,’ Alex said, smiling at her.
Milo squeezed Claire’s hand, his face soft with contentment.
Filipe placed a bubbling Finnish meatball dish called lihapullat at the centre of the table alongside a basket of rye bread, the mouth-watering smell of paprika and garlic drifting towards Claire. After they’d finished eating, they all headed into the living room, a huge square room with a modern fireplace right at its centre dividing it in two. One side of the room was scattered with multi-coloured cushions, a large blue corner sofa stretching across its back. On the other side was a pool table and a wall of bookshelves, huge windows overlooking the snowy forest either side of the room.
Claire and Milo sat on the sofa as Holly placed herself neatly on one of the scatter cushions on the floor. Alex joined her on the cushion next to the fire and Holly shot him a big smile.
As Claire watched the flames flicker over their young faces, she felt old. The fact was, she was nearly twenty years older than Holly and Alex. And lately, she’d really begun to notice it, especially when looking in the mirror. Where once her full cheeks, bright eyes and pink lips were the focus, now all she saw were the bits in between: the circles under her eyes; the sunken dips under her cheeks; the fine lines around her lips.
She turned to look at Milo’s profile as he smiled at Holly. But what did that matter? She might feel older, but she also felt happier. Like she was finally carving out a place for herself.
Milo turned to her as though sensing her thoughts and placed his lips against hers. She shivered, her whole body responding to him, and he pulled her even closer, wrapping his arms tight around her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sofia watching them with that cynical look in her eyes.
‘So, Milo tells me you want to be a journalist like Claire?’ Filipe asked Holly.
‘Yep,’ Holly said. ‘I want to travel the world and write about all the places I see.’
‘So you’ll study journalism at university?’ Sofia asked.
She shrugged. ‘Maybe, maybe not. Milo says qualifications aren’t important.’
Sofia looked at Milo in surprise. ‘You said that?’
‘Of course.’ He stretched his arm across the back of the chair. ‘Nowadays, it’s more important kids get out there and do the job, prove themselves.’
‘Complete rubbish!’ Sofia exclaimed, her cheeks red from all the wine she’d already drunk.
‘Mum,’ Alex said in a low voice.
Claire stared up at the ceiling, silently cursing Sofia and her blunt personality.
‘Why’s it rubbish?’ Milo asked.
‘Children need qualifications to get anywhere in the world nowadays,’ Sofia replied.
‘I didn’t get any qualifications,’ Milo said.
Sofia laughed. ‘Well, that just proves my point then.’
‘I think what Sofia means,’ Filipe said, trying to ease the tension as always, ‘is that some kind of qualification can give Holly a headstart. That’s what Claire did in the end, go to university and get a degree.’
‘You really think reading Wuthering Heights and post-modern poetry was the only thing that helped Claire’s career?’ Milo asked him.
Claire shot him a look. ‘Look, let’s change the—’
‘Sentence structure. Words,’ Sofia said, interrupting Claire. ‘If Holly goes to university, she’ll learn how to write essays to deadlines, how to write in a way that will be enjoyed and understood. She’ll learn how to deal with the rigours of journalism.’
‘I am here,’ Holly murmured into her drink.
‘Rigours?’ Milo asked, ignoring Holly. ‘Exactly how hard is it to place a Dictaphone in front of someone and ask a few questions?’
Claire looked at Milo. ‘Excuse me?’
Milo’s face softened. ‘I just mean you either have it or you don’t when it comes to writing, that’s all. You have it, darling, and maybe Holly does too. So why would she need university?’
‘The world’s tougher now,’ Sofia said, taking another sip of wine. ‘Our children need foundations, qualifications, structure. They need the tools to follow the right path.’
‘What’s the right path?’ Milo said, leaning forward, his whole body tense now. ‘Holly’s seventeen, for Christ’s sake. She’s better off spending some time figuring out if it’s right for her before doing something formal like a degree to get there. Claire agrees, don’t you, Claire?’
Everyone’s eyes turned to Claire. She felt her face flush. Things had been going so well. Why had Sofia ruined it?
‘I agree with both arguments actually,’ she said, choosing the most diplomatic answer. ‘Anyway, it’s up to Holly, isn�
�t it?’
‘Are you joking?’ Milo asked Claire. ‘What about everything your dad used to say?’
Sofia tensed at the mention of their dad’s name.
‘Can we drop the subject please?’ Claire said tightly, shooting Milo another warning look. ‘This is all getting a bit serious.’
Milo stared back at her, his face taut with anger.
‘One thing’s for sure,’ Filipe said, smiling at Holly. ‘It’s clear everyone cares about your future.’
Holly peered down at her hands, a sombre expression on her face.
‘Fancy a game of pool?’ Alex asked her, gesturing towards the pool table.
She smiled gratefully at him and let him help her up as Sofia watched the two of them with a grim expression on her face.
Milo stood abruptly. ‘I better go find the dogs.’ Then he marched from the room.
Claire watched him, confused. Surely he wasn’t annoyed at her, she’d only been trying to keep the peace.
‘First lovers’ tiff?’ Sofia asked.
‘It wasn’t a tiff,’ Claire said in a voice that came out more strained than she’d intended. She caught Filipe’s eye and he threw her a reassuring smile.
‘You know I’m right though,’ Sofia said in a low voice. She peered towards Holly and Alex to make sure they couldn’t hear. ‘I know Holly’s not your daughter, but you have to accept you’re a role model for her now. You need to—’
Claire sighed. ‘Oh, just bloody leave it, Sofia.’
‘I’m only thinking of you, Claire! Holly might be the only young woman you’ll have an influence on.’
Claire shook her head. Her sister seemed to be obsessed with the fact Claire would never have children, somehow managing to bring it up in every phone conversation or email. But Claire had moved on, accepted her fate. How many times did she have to tell her sister that?
‘I’m going to find Milo,’ Claire said, standing up and taking the bottle of wine from the table next to Sofia. ‘And I’m taking this to the kitchen, you’ve had enough.’
She left the room, searching the house for Milo without any luck. After a while, she caught sight of his tall figure standing among the trees outside, a plume of white smoke fanning out from his mouth. She pulled her boots and jacket on and let herself outside. It was bitterly cold, the freezing air biting at her cheeks. She scrunched her hands up in her pockets as the cold worked its way beneath her skin.
If Milo noticed her approaching, he didn’t let on, just continued staring into the distance as the dogs bounced around in the snow together.
‘I did warn you about Sofia,’ she said when she got to him. ‘She’s a bit of a firecracker, always has been. You have to try to ignore her.’
He sighed, flicking his cigarette into the snow. It fizzled and melted the ice around it into a sludgy mess. ‘It’s not her.’
‘Then what’s wrong?’
‘I felt ganged up on.’
‘And I didn’t? That was quite insulting what you said in there, you know – the Dictaphone thing.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘Well, it came out just like that. Look,’ she said, taking his hand, ‘I actually agreed with a lot of what you said. But maybe you should be encouraging Holly to go to uni? I don’t mean in terms of qualifications. I mean so she can meet kids her own age, have fun.’
‘She’s doing that now.’
‘Is she? We did ask her to bring a friend with her, remember? What was it she said? “Oh, I don’t have close friends, they’re too immature.” Is that right for a girl her age?’
‘Maybe she’s different from other kids her age. Maybe that’s a good thing?’
Claire thought of how Holly had mentioned the wedding earlier without a hint of emotion. ‘Friendship’s really important at that age, especially for someone who’s been through what Holly has.’
Milo took in a sharp breath, staring out into the distance, his hand cold and stiff in Claire’s.
‘What I’m trying to say is,’ Claire continued, ‘she’s partly your responsibility now, so you have a duty to—’
He pulled his hand away from her. ‘Have a duty to do what, Claire? A duty to do what my parents did to Dale and force him down a path he should never have taken?’
Claire looked into his eyes, which were alive with anger and pain. He’d not once uttered Dale’s name in the months they’d been together.
‘Is that what this is all about?’ she said softly.
He looked down at the snowy ground, jaw clenching. ‘Yes. Jen’s great but she can be a bit cold sometimes. After everything that’s happened to Holly, I feel this huge sense of responsibility. I know it must be difficult for you to understand, you’re not often around children and don’t plan to be around them so …’
Claire’s insides froze as hard as the ice beneath their feet. ‘You make me sound like a barren old hag.’
His face softened and he put his hand out to her. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’
She shoved his hand away. ‘Forget it.’
She turned on her heel and stormed off towards the house, kicking up puffs of powdery snow with her boots. Maybe she was over-reacting but to completely dismiss the chances of her even being around children – what if she decided to adopt? He didn’t have a right to write off her chances like that. When she got to the front door, she paused: she couldn’t go back in like this; Sofia would know they’d argued. So she went around the side of the house instead, ignoring Milo as he tried to look for her. After a while, she pulled her hands out of her pockets and stared at them, focusing on the pain as the freezing air circulated around them, watching as they turned red then white. When she couldn’t take it any more, she walked back inside.
The journey home was oppressive, uncomfortable. When they got back to the cabin, Holly went straight to sleep and Claire, unable to face Milo, did the same as he stayed in the living room, pacing up and down then letting in cold air as he leaned out of the window to smoke.
Some time in the night, she woke to see his brown eyes blinking down at her. He pressed his lips softly against her forehead, the smell of the cigarettes he’d been smoking swirling around her. She pretended she was still sleeping.
‘I know you’re awake,’ he said.
She didn’t say anything, couldn’t, the hurtful comment he’d made still scorching her insides.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he said. ‘You told me you’d resolved yourself to a life without children, I suppose I was referring to that.’
‘I meant conceiving a child. What if I want to adopt? Or work around children? It was insensitive, Milo.’
He sighed. ‘Sorry, I should have worded it better.’
She turned around to look at him. ‘How would you have worded it better? The basic premise is “you’re infertile so you’ll never have any idea what’s right for Holly or any child for that matter”.’
He put his hands either side of her face and stared into her eyes. ‘Claire, no! I didn’t think, I was angry, I—’
‘What’s happening between us, Milo?’ she asked him, moving away from him.
He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, our relationship. Is this the real deal?’
‘Of course, Claire.’
‘Because you understand I can’t give you a family, don’t you?’
Milo took her hand in his. ‘You’re enough. Honestly. And what do you mean by “family” exactly? Family means more than just blood. Of course you have a family, your sister, your mum, aunts and uncles. And I do too. But then there are our friends, people we choose to see, not forced to see through blood.’
‘Have you really thought about it though?’ Claire said, tears filling her eyes. ‘If we stay together, there’s a chance you might never have a child of your own. I mentioned adoption but I don’t even know if I’m ready for that.’ She paused, looking into his eyes. ‘Am I really enough?’
‘Of course. I love you, Claire.’
<
br /> She examined his face, heart thumping. Had he really just said that? ‘You love me?’
‘Yes. How could you not know that?’
She smiled. ‘I love you too.’ She’d never said those three words so soon, but he’d etched himself into her, right from the very start.
He wrapped his arms around her, tracing his lips along her neck. ‘I love you, Claire Shreve,’ he murmured. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’
She felt him grow hard, heard his breath quicken as his hands moved towards her breasts. This time, when they made love, the urgency that had been there the past two months was gone and it was slower, softer, like finally they felt so secure in not losing each other, they could take their time.
After, Milo pulled the curtains aside so they could lie in each other’s arms and look out of the cabin window. It was especially beautiful at night, the white of the snow making the sky shine midnight blue, any lights left on in the distance giving the impression the stars had fallen from the sky and were littering the snow.
Claire peered up at Milo, taking in the way the moonlight danced over his long dark eyelashes and high cheekbones.
‘I have my own baggage too,’ he said, lifting himself up onto his elbow and looking into her eyes. ‘Are you sure you want me? I’m damaged goods, remember – the man who killed his own brother.’
‘To save others,’ Claire said softly. She placed her hand on his bare chest. ‘Neither of us are perfect and, yes, we have our baggage. But we know all about that baggage because we know everything about each other, right?’
Milo hesitated, his eyes flickering with something indecipherable. Then he smiled. ‘Right.’
Over the next few days, Milo ensured everyone experienced all the sights and activities Iso-Syöte and the surrounding area could offer. They whooshed through Finland’s forests and over its frozen lakes on snowmobiles. They went ice-fishing, drilling holes and looping fishing lines in an attempt to get dinner for the evening. They visited the reindeer farm too, Milo leading the reindeer around on the figure-of-eight circuit as they followed behind on sledges.
Sofia missed out on a lot of the activities, using the law case she was working on as an excuse to constantly check her precious PalmPilot. Claire noticed Milo watching her disapprovingly sometimes, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he brought her hot chocolate every now and again and Sofia would look up at him, her eyes suspicious. But by the third day, Claire thought she saw a small smile appear on her sister’s face. Milo was finally melting her icy heart.
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