It wasn’t entirely true. She was making traditional meatballs that she made all of the time. Although she was now planning to change some of the spice mix in order to cater to a broader palette. Amber had spoken about her love of cuisine—Asian food, Indian curries… all kinds of things that Emilia had never eaten.
Swedish food wasn’t the most flavourful. It was focused on being hearty and filling. Meals to fuel a Viking nation in the cold of winter. Spices were mainly reserved for desserts and cakes.
She knew her grandmother had a sort of curried meatball recipe, and Emilia had an entire cupboard full of spices that she bought in the hope of one day being brave enough to try something new. Of course, she never did try anything new. She liked her routine far too much. Why attempt to fix something that wasn’t broken?
“I’d still like to help, if there’s anything I can do?” Amber queried, looking around the kitchen for a task.
The last time Emilia had shared the cooking with someone, she was a child and assisting her family. As an adult, she’d never had to split the workload. She wasn’t entirely sure what kind of tasks to give Amber.
Eventually, she pointed to a cupboard. “Could you get a cutting board from in there?”
As Amber got the chopping board, she picked up a knife from the block on the counter and placed it on the work surface. She walked into the larder and returned with a large red onion.
“Could you chop this into small pieces?” Emilia asked.
Amber placed the board on the countertop and picked up the knife. “Sure, no problem.”
Emilia consulted the recipe and started to gather all of the items she would need. She pulled out the frying pan from the cupboard, the meat from the fridge. She rummaged through the spice drawer to get all the seasonings. After a few minutes, she had everything she needed ready to start cooking.
She looked at Amber and let out a soft laugh.
“How are you getting on?”
Amber had made almost no progress on the onion. She had almost peeled it and cut it into a very wonky half. Now she was holding onto the wobbly half and figuring out where to begin with her knife.
Amber started to chuckle. “Okay, I’m useless at cooking, you caught me.”
She tried to make a cut and the knife slipped from the onion. Emilia quickly took the knife from Amber’s hand, not wanting her to accidentally slice off a finger.
“Why don’t you sit and keep me company? It might be quicker.” Emilia gestured to a kitchen stool.
“Are you sure? I want to help,” Amber said.
“It would be a help to not worry about you stabbing yourself,” Emilia admitted.
“Good point.” Amber nodded and took a seat on the stool on the other side of the counter.
“I can’t remember the last time I chopped a vegetable,” Amber confessed.
“Do you not eat vegetables?” Emilia started to dice the onion.
“Oh, no, I love vegetables. Always have. I just rarely cook at home.”
“Do you not eat?” Emilia asked.
Amber laughed. “Oh yes, I eat. Three meals a day, every day. I just eat out, or I have food delivered.”
Emilia lowered her knife and looked at Amber curiously. “You do that so often you’ve forgotten how to cut up an onion?”
Emilia had eaten out less than five times that year, each of which had been instigated by Hugo. She couldn’t imagine going out to eat so often, it sounded exhausting.
“I suppose I have,” Amber admitted. “There’s just so many different choices, so much great food. It would cost more to source all of the ingredients to make things than it does to buy a meal. And the convenience of having it delivered to the house is great.”
Emilia shook her head and returned to chopping her onion. “I don’t think there are any restaurants around here that deliver food. Even the pizza place wants you to go and pick it up.”
“Wow, that wouldn’t work in Britain. We’re a pretty lazy nation.”
“You’re not lazy, you asked if you could help me,” Emilia reminded her.
“I have a good guest face.” Amber chuckled.
They continued to talk about all the services that were available in Britain in the name of convenience. Apparently, you could get a taxi to take you anywhere by clicking a button on your phone. And you could buy a pre-peeled orange. Emilia didn’t know why anyone would need an orange to be peeled for them unless they had a disability.
It was a surprise to hear about all the differences in their daily lives. Emilia had known that Amber went to work and obviously commuted to an office every day. She thought the differences might end there, other than Amber obviously opting to have more of a social life.
But it turned out that there were so many more differences.
Amber hardly ever cooked. She spent more time out of her apartment than inside it. They ate different food, read different books. Amber loved going to the cinema and the theatre. Emilia couldn’t remember the last time she had done either. And she didn’t even own a television.
But somehow, they found things to talk about. They laughed and were amazed at their differences. Amber couldn’t imagine cooking for herself every single day. Emilia couldn’t imagine going into a shop to buy a boiled, peeled egg.
They were from different worlds, but somehow Emilia felt more comfortable with Amber than she had with anyone else for a long time.
Even so, the weight of her subterfuge lay heavily on her shoulders.
She kept pushing it down, trying to ignore the part of her that felt guilty for lying in order to bring Amber to her. She bargained with herself, promising that she would be honest with Amber the next day.
She reasoned that Amber would be tired from a long journey, not to mention unsettled due to being in a strange place in a foreign country. Tonight wasn’t the night for awkward admissions. Really, Emilia was waiting to confess her sins for Amber’s sake.
Or so she was desperately trying to convince herself.
14
Off the Grid
Amber walked around the bedroom of the guesthouse and let out a long sigh. At ten o’clock, Emilia had declared that it was bedtime. Amber had smothered a smile as she watched the Swede hurry around the kitchen and the dining room tidying up following their meal. It seemed that Emilia was a stickler for bedtime.
Amber couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone to bed so early. Probably when she’d had the flu a few years back.
She held her mobile phone out and circled the room, seeking a signal. As she had dreaded, there was nothing. She was completely cut off from the outside world.
She’d thought that the two-hour power cut on a Sunday afternoon a few months ago had been bad, but that was nothing compared to having no TV, no mobile signal, and no Internet access whatsoever. At least then she had still been able to use her phone, check her email, and play games.
Now there was nothing to entertain her and she wasn’t in the least bit tired.
She sat on the edge of the bed and put her phone on the bedside table. It was like she had been thrown back in time, into a strange world that she felt very uneasy in.
It was a world that Emilia had carved out for herself. Amber knew that Sweden had perfectly good Internet access. They had television, ride-sharing services, food ordering apps.
Sweden was a vibrant and modern country with technology being used for everything. They were the home of Candy Crush, for heaven’s sake. It was as modern and technologically advanced as Britain.
But Emilia’s little oasis, just outside of one of the main cities of the country, couldn’t be further removed from the modern day.
Amber had no idea what they intended to do for the next few days. She couldn’t imagine how to fill the time. There was quite simply nothing to do, and she worried that they had already exhausted their conversation.
Emilia was adorably awed by Amber’s modern-day lifestyle. Amber had deliberately kept some information back, fearing that explaining things
like Tinder would be enough to make poor Emilia implode.
Talking to Emilia was like meeting a time traveller who had been pulled out of the past and had endless questions about how everything worked in this strange, new world.
She opened up her suitcase and pulled out a pair of pyjamas. She’d bought them new from the local supermarket, something else that probably would have blown Emilia’s mind.
Nightwear? In a supermarket? Next to the pre-roasted chicken?
She usually slept naked but had decided to invest in some cheap sleepwear considering the cold temperatures and the fact that she was staying in someone else’s house. She’d had no idea what to expect and only now realised how lucky she was that things had worked out.
Normally she would never have considered jumping on a plane and staying with someone she hardly knew. The threat of unemployment had caused her to act rashly, but thankfully things seemed to be working out well.
She held her pyjamas in her hand, realising that she needn’t have worried about the potentially cold temperatures. While the outside was freezing, both the main house and the guesthouse were toasty and warm. Crossing from one to the other wasn’t exactly fun, but it took less than ten seconds.
She glanced out of the window. The main lights in the house were off, but the lit-up paper stars in all the windows remained on. Amber had seen them in other houses on the drive over. Emilia had explained that they were common Christmas decorations, that many Swedish households liked to display candles or stars in the windows during the winter months.
She let out a sigh and wondered what to do with herself. It had been a very long time since she had been well and truly bored. Of course, she thought she had been bored before, but that passed after a couple of seconds. She had access to friends via text, video chat, email, and good, old-fashioned telephone. Games, movies, television box sets, and music could all be accessed as the touch of a button. Boredom only ever lasted a few moments.
That wasn’t the case currently. Now she was properly bored. She was also pre-emptively bored, knowing that things weren’t going to change anytime soon.
She wasn’t tired, despite Emilia’s insistence that she must be exhausted after her travels. Another throwback to the Victorian era from which Emilia seemed to hail. She acted as if Amber had been stuck on a passenger steam liner for the last week. She’d actually been on a relatively comfortable plane for around ninety minutes.
She tossed her pyjamas onto the bed and then flopped down onto the soft duvet. She stared up at the ceiling.
Part of her wanted to refuse to go to bed so early. It seemed ridiculous. She was a grown woman, she didn’t need a bedtime. She went to bed when she was tired. Not when the clock told her.
She frowned.
“Wait a minute,” she muttered.
She held her arm up above her face, staring at her watch.
“Oh, no… no way.”
She had suddenly remembered the time difference. Sweden was one hour ahead. Which meant, according to Amber’s watch and her internal body clock, it was only nine.
She flopped her arm back down on the bed.
“Oh, well,” she said to herself. “When in Rome.”
She pictured Emilia, presumably tucked up in bed. Probably wearing an ankle-length nightdress buttoned up to the neck. Maybe holding a teddy bear as she slept.
She chuckled. Emilia may have been a little odd, but she seemed happy with her life and happy to see Amber. While Amber was bored enough to consider going out into the nearby forest and screaming with frustration, Emilia seemed genuinely pleased to have company.
It boded well for the currently unsigned contract. Emilia had said she would only do business with people she liked, and she seemed to like Amber. They had chatted and laughed. The evening had been pleasant enough.
She decided to bring up the subject of the contract the following day. That way she could get Emilia’s signature secured as soon as possible and then rest easy. Though rest was the last thing she wanted.
She blew out a frustrated breath as she continued to stare at the ceiling.
She felt sorry for Emilia, stuck out in the middle of nowhere with no one to speak to. She said she was happy, but Amber detected an underlying hint of sadness. And who wouldn’t be sad? Clearly the house had been in the family for generations. It was a house that had grown with the family and was built to shelter many people. Emilia was just one person rattling around a large house. She’d be better off in the guesthouse, Amber mused. Less room to fill.
Emilia spoke about her family only through stories of things that had happened a seemingly long time ago. While she hadn’t said anything specific, Amber got the distinct impression that talking about the Lunds was off-limits.
The fact that Emilia lived alone led Amber to believe that they had all died. Of course, she knew about Charlotte Lund’s death, but knew nothing about Emilia’s grandfather, mother, or father. The fact they weren’t around, or spoken about, was one thing that did not bode well.
She sat up and stretched her hands above her head. She decided to do some yoga in the hope that it would tire her out before bed. Her mind needed clearing, and it wasn’t like she had anything else to do.
Standing up, she shook her body as she tried to clear her mind. Unfortunately, all she could think about was the hike around the lake they had planned for the next day. Amber couldn’t remember the last time she had only had one thing planned for an entire day.
But apparently that was the way Emilia did things. They were going to go for a hike around the lake, as she’d somehow got the impression that Amber would love it. She didn’t go out of her way to dissuade Emilia from the idea. If Emilia would be happy walking around the lake, then Amber would pretend that she was, too.
At the moment, she was in the business of doing things that would make Emilia happy.
Because happy Emilias were apparently the ones who signed contracts. And that would make Amber happy.
15
The Beautiful Lake
They were halfway around the lake, and Emilia couldn’t stop smiling. Everything was going so well. Some snow had fallen the night before and continued to fall intermittently throughout the day. That meant that the walk around the lake was beautifully picturesque. And she relished the idea of showing off her beloved landscape to Amber.
If she’d remembered to bring her camera, then it would have been the perfect day to take some photographs. Although she already had many photos of the lake during all kinds of weather. It was, after all, her favourite place to walk.
Amber had been a little quiet ever since breakfast. Probably still tired from her travel. Emilia didn’t really know how long it took to recover from travel, but she assumed quite a while. Being away from home and in another country was sure to be exhausting.
Emilia put her hands deeper into the large pockets of her thick winter coat. It looked more and more likely that there would be a white Christmas. It wasn’t a guaranteed thing in the south of Sweden, but she often hoped for it. The landscape was breathtaking after the first snow had fallen.
Right now, it was a little more than a dusting. The white powder crunched as it compressed beneath her boots. The lake had a thin layer of ice over it. The ducks walked across the frozen surface and occasionally swam in the melted portions.
“I wish the lake had fully frozen this winter,” she said. “Then we could have skated on it.”
Amber glanced at the large lake. “Skated on it? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Not if it’s been frozen a while.”
“How do you know?” Amber asked.
“You just do.” Emilia didn’t know exactly how she knew when the lake was solid enough to support her skates. It was knowledge she had grown up with. It seemed strange that Amber didn’t have that sixth sense.
“Do you go skating often?” Emilia asked.
“Never,” Amber said. “Never learnt. There’s a temporary rink set up near the office, but I’ve never been. T
oo old to fall and break a bone.”
Emilia laughed. “You can’t be that old.”
“Thirty-two, old enough to know I can’t skate,” Amber replied. “How much longer do you think it is until we get around the lake? I’ve lost my bearings.”
“It’s another mile,” Emilia replied. “Then half a mile back to the house. It’s a nice, long walk for cool winter days. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve walked around the lake.”
“I bet.”
Emilia frowned. Amber was staring steadfastly at the ground. The British woman had been so chatty the evening before, but the longer they were out, the less she seemed to have to say.
Emilia wasn’t any good at initiating conversation at the best of times, but now she found herself carrying the weight for both of them.
She suspected that Amber was overcome with the beauty of her surroundings. London could never look as pretty as the lake on a winter’s day. And, of course, the travel must have caught up with her. She knew people often suffered jetlag after a long journey.
“I used to walk with my grandparents’ dog around here. We’d let him off the lead, and he’d swim in the lake. Only in the summer, of course. Do you have any pets?” Emilia asked.
“No, I’m allergic to cats and dogs. Well, probably just to fur.”
“Oh! So, you’ve never had any pets?”
“No.”
Emilia couldn’t imagine not having pets. She didn’t have any at the moment, except the local feral cat who sometimes walked through her garden, but growing up, there had been lots of pets. She had an entire photo album dedicated to them.
They continued walking and Emilia struggled to think of any other topics. Amber walked beside her silently. Her eyes were cast down, seemingly watching the snow flick from the tips of her boots with every step she took. Her hands were buried deep in her pockets, and Emilia could hardly see her face, her scarf so high and her hat so low.
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