The Near & Far Series

by Serena Clarke

  “We’re getting some Sunday exercise,” Malin said. “Family tradition. Sorry to disturb you.”

  “That’s okay.” She hesitated. “Um…would you like to come in?”

  Immediately, Fredrik pushed off towards the steps. “Yes, thank you.”

  Damn it. She’d really thought they’d say no. Malin was nice, but after all the awkward attention from Fredrik, she wasn’t thrilled about spending time with him. It was rapidly bringing her back down to earth from her Jakob-induced high.

  Fredrik had his skis off and was coming up the steps, but Malin was fiddling with her ski boots. “I won’t be long,” she said.

  “Let’s go in,” Fredrik said. “You must be cold.” He took off his ski boots and came inside in his socks, shutting the door on his sister.

  He hadn’t taken much convincing. Zoe excused herself to pull on some thick socks and a jumper and comb her hair, then put the kettle on. She didn’t have anything yummy to offer as fika, but she could make coffee at least. She’d probably need a few to get through the day anyway, after the late night—might as well start now.

  “Where are the girls?” she asked, getting mugs out of the cupboard.

  “Playing at a friend’s house.” He was walking around while he waited, looking at all the pictures and knick-knacks. He stopped and peered into a glass-fronted cabinet. It was full of books, but a framed photo sat in one corner, only just visible. He laughed, and took it out. “I forgot about this.”

  She came over to see. It was a bunch of teenagers, all in swimwear and sunglasses, captured in various crazy poses in front of the cabin. She squinted at the image, trying to see if one of them might be Jakob. No one looked like him—but if it was after his mother died, or while she was sick, he might not have been partying. She wanted to ask Fredrik, but judged it safer not to mention him.

  “Looks like a fun day,” she said.

  He nodded. “We used to have great parties here.” He put a finger on a grinning, gangly kid with one arm around a pretty girl, and the other holding a bottle in the air. “That’s me.”

  Zoe was getting the impression that the various cabins scattered around the Swedish countryside were nothing but mini party venues. Her own teenage self would have loved it.

  “You knew Oscar then? Greta and Bengt’s son?”

  “Everyone knows everyone here,” he said.

  “Which one is he?”

  He pointed to a stocky guy with one arm around someone’s neck and a bottle of beer in the other hand. Even at a low-resolution distance, she could see the resemblance to Bengt.

  “What was he like, before he went to Australia?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged and put the photo back in the cabinet. “Good at school, even though he never worked hard. Clever. Liked computers.”

  “Oh, like you.”

  He glowed at the implied compliment. “Thank you.”

  Oops. She’d meant the ‘liked computers’ part, but he didn’t need any encouragement. She kept talking. “He wasn’t outdoorsy, like Bengt?”

  “Not really.” He leaned an arm against the cabinet, over her shoulder. “Clever, did you say?”

  There was a cursory knock, and Malin looked in from the doorway, still in her boots. Perfect timing for a rescue, thank God. While Fredrik was looking away, she stepped out of range.

  “Let’s go,” Malin said.

  “Already?” he grumbled. “What about my coffee?” But he went over to the door.

  Malin poked him in the belly. “You need more exercise. Staring at the computer all day is bad for you.”

  He sighed in ostentatious resignation. “She’s right. I won’t get any exercise inside. Not the skiing kind of exercise, anyway,” he added, with a wink at Zoe.

  Ugh. She managed a weak smile. “Okay, well, have fun.”

  Outside, he finished putting on his ski boots, and stepped into his bindings. “We’ll have coffee next time.”

  Zoe couldn’t help being relieved. “Yes, of course.” Or not. “Bye!”

  They each put their sunglasses back on, a double dose of Nordic alpine style, then turned and glided away.

  After that strange and brief visit, Zoe was even more ready for that coffee. Especially as she really would have to call The Shark back. Once again, she’d have to massage the truth—say she was working on it, still finding her way into the issues, getting a feel for the research. She’d got a feel for something all right, but there was no way she could tell Alcina that.

  Yes, she was well and truly back to earth now. And unfortunately, the landscape was looking increasingly rocky. She dumped an extra spoonful of sugar into her coffee, and stirred it violently, sending a wave spilling onto the countertop. Sooner rather than later, she was going to have to face the reality of why she was really here.

  * * *

  Jakob wasn’t at the office when she went up to start the volunteer jobs, so she set off on the snowmobile to check the eagle nest, the weight of her situation hanging over her. The fact that it had been such an amazing, sexy, abandoned night made her feel even worse. He hadn’t even had the decency to be useless in bed. She picked up speed, letting the cold air burn her cheeks. Laugh or cry.

  At the nest area she stopped and turned off the engine, then walked a short distance into the woods, surrounding herself with trees and quiet. Her footprints crunched as they broke the thin top layer of snow, and her breath was puffy in the cold air. She made herself breathe more slowly—in…out…in…out. It sort of helped…but not much.

  She sighed and went back to the clearing. The nest still seemed to be uninhabited, and there was no sign of nest-building activity in any of the other trees. Maybe it was still too early, or maybe Greta was right, and home would be somewhere else for the eagles this year.

  She started up the snowmobile, and started to drive away. But just off to her right, she spotted something—tracks running across the clearing, criss-crossing each other in loops and intersections. Pulling out the camera, she went to investigate. How many wolves had been here? Maybe Jakob would be able to tell. She took photos from every angle, then looked at where the tracks disappeared into the woods. It was tempting to follow them, but she was pretty sure that a healthy wolf wouldn’t be as approachable as the one she’d found the other day. Plus, getting lost and freezing to death right now would be extremely inconvenient. She had things to sort out. Like proving something to The Shark without ruining things for Jakob, somehow…and deciding whether she should sleep with him again.

  Images from the night before flickered in her mind. Candlelight, warm skin, her hands running over his body, his mouth awakening pleasure in every part of her...

  Really, she shouldn’t.

  She shook her head and went back to the snowmobile, and set off towards the lodge.

  She shouldn’t.

  But she knew she would.

  Twenty

  Greta and Bengt went off to their luxury bed-and-breakfast getaway like newly-weds that afternoon, as soon as the university club left. Zoe and Stina formed the farewell committee, waving until Bengt’s old Volvo was out of sight around the corner of the long driveway. Then Stina turned to her.

  “Let’s do everything fast, then we can relax.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They raced through the jobs at the lodge, working in tandem to strip and remake beds, tidy the rooms, and get the used linen into the two commercial-scale washing machines in the basement. From there, it all went into the equally supersized driers.

  Jakob turned up at one stage, and found them working in one of the rooms with a king-size bed. At the first sight of him, Zoe felt a hum start up in her body. Memories of all the sweet and sinful fun from the night before washed over her, and her heart beat a little faster, a little lighter. But with Stina there, she didn’t give anything away.

  “About time you came to help us,” she told him, from behind an armload of sheets.

  His reply came with a wicked smile that told her he w
as remembering exactly the same things. “Just making sure you’re working hard enough.”

  He dodged the pillowslip Stina threw at him, and had the last word from around the door frame, before he disappeared. “Bad shot.”

  Stina went to retrieve it from the hallway floor, and paused to watch him go. “When he’s not grumpy, he’s quite cute.”

  Zoe shrugged. “I suppose he is.” She hoisted the pile of sheets higher to hide her smile.

  When they finally stopped for dinner in the guesthouse kitchen—leftovers from the huge final meal Greta had prepared for the outdoor club the night before—Stina pulled a bottle of vodka from her bag.

  “I thought we could toast their holiday.” She took two glasses from the cupboard and splashed a generous amount into each one. “My dad will drive me home,” she added, as she handed Zoe a glass.

  “Well then—skål!” Zoe said.

  “Skål!”

  Stina grinned and threw back her drink with gusto, and Zoe followed suit. She shuddered as the sharply warming liquid went down, then held out her glass for a refill. Apparently her taste in drinks was getting harder.

  They talked and laughed as they ate, and as the conversation went on, Zoe again found herself impressed by someone’s language skills. Here—in a place that felt far from anywhere—she’d found nothing but immaculate English.

  “Everyone speaks such amazing English,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “We all learn it at school,” Stina said. “Not everyone likes to speak English—my sister is too shy. But most of us are happy to practise. A lot of companies want people who speak English too. And if you want to travel, you need it. That’s why I’m doing a course taught in English. Most of the universities offer courses in English anyway.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that. And I didn’t know you were studying.”

  She nodded. “Psychology and counselling. Most of the lessons are online, but I go to Stockholm sometimes. It’s just a diploma, not a degree, but it will be enough to start.”

  “That must be interesting. Sometimes I think there’s no way in hell we can ever say why people do the things they do.” She put down her knife and fork, feeling suddenly flat.

  Stina crinkled her nose in sympathy. “Are you thinking about the wolf?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t add, and myself.

  “People are terrible sometimes. And wonderful. And confused. I think it’s the same everywhere. When I finish my course, I want to go to Australia and work.”

  “That would be fun. Maybe you can visit Oscar.”

  She pursed her lips. “I don’t think so. I heard he’s not very nice.”

  “Really? But Greta and Bengt are so lovely.” It was impossible to imagine such a warm and generous couple producing unpleasant offspring.

  “Oh, I’m sure he’s fine really,” Stina said, visibly backpedalling. “My dad heard he’s living with an English girl over there. Anyway, he’s much older than me. I don’t think we’d have much to talk about.”

  “I’m older than you too,” Zoe pointed out, but Stina shook her head.

  “We’re in the same decade, at least. Now, tell me more about you.”

  With that, the Oscar subject was closed, but Zoe added it to her list of unanswered Lillavik questions.

  After dinner, she waved Stina off with her dad, then went back into the kitchen. Table wiped, dishwasher on, lights out. With no guests, there were no breakfasts to be made in the morning. She didn’t know how Greta managed to feed so many people, week in and week out. Cooking was very low down on her own list of talents—although she might try the Janssons frestelse when she got back to London, just to honour Greta’s enthusiasm for the dish. And the woman herself.

  As she pulled on her boots by the back door, it struck her that she never thought of going ‘back home’—only ‘back to London’. For a person who spent all that time desperate to have one place to call home, she really was making a crappy job of living that reality. Was a decade not long enough to build something real? Become a proper grown-up?

  She paused in the doorway, looking out towards the snowy woods. There’d been no sign of Jakob since he stopped in that afternoon to criticise their housekeeping. He’d probably gone to bed. Which was fine, really. It had been a long night last night, and he’d been busy all day doing…something. She didn’t expect anything from him—didn’t assume that just because they’d had two incredible nights, there would be more. No expectations.

  But sure, she was hoping. Who wouldn’t?

  As she locked up the back door, ready to head to the cabin, she heard footsteps crunching on the snow, and looked up to see a dark figure approaching. Tall, dark, and Jakob. Her heart gave a little flip as he came out of the shadow of the house, and she saw his face.

  “I thought you were in bed.”

  “Not yet,” he said.

  “Not yet?”

  Her emphasis made him smile, and the rush of anticipation almost made her giddy. One more night.

  “Thanks for the photos,” he said.

  She had uploaded the images of the wolf prints, and left a note to let him know.

  “You’re welcome. Can you tell how many wolves there were?”

  “Not really. I’m just hoping there’s no more poison out there. I checked as much as I could today, but I can’t look at every metre of the forest.”

  “No.”

  “Anyway…I have something to show you,” he said.

  “Really? What is it?”

  But he shook his head. “Let me in and I’ll show you.”

  “Hmm. Okay.”

  He took the key from her and unlocked the door, and they went back into the guesthouse, their footsteps echoing on the wooden floor in the entranceway. He took her hand and led her down the corridor towards the great room, but halfway along, she stopped. “It’s so quiet. It feels weird knowing no one else is here.”

  “Just us and the wolves.”

  He pulled her to him, his intentions clear, and she let herself relax against his body.

  She shouldn’t.

  Then he kissed her…and all her shouldn’ts fell to pieces. She kissed him back, heat flaring in her body, caution instantly thrown to the wind. When he broke away a moment later, she blinked, hazy with desire, and he laughed.

  “Come on.”

  They went along to the great room, where guests spent evenings in front of the double-width fireplace, drinking, playing games, and swapping outdoorsy stories—there was no TV anywhere on the Nilssons’ property. It was nice to be removed from celebrity drama, political machinations, and competitive baking for a while. Despite its high ceiling and alarming taxidermy, it was a comfortable, welcoming room, with heavy curtains, expansive sofas, and a well-stocked drinks cabinet.

  He opened a door at the far end, and she looked through. A spa pool sat on a small enclosed deck, with views over the garden to the pond. White fairy lights were strung around the outer walls, and criss-crossed overhead, and steam billowed from the uncovered pool into the night air.

  “I didn’t know this was here,” she said. “It looks amazing.”

  He smiled. “I asked Greta to leave it turned on.”

  She liked his initiative—but all she had in her suitcase was cold-weather gear. She hadn’t expected to be swimming up here in the frozen north.

  “That’s such a nice idea, but I don’t have my…oh.”

  He was taking off his jacket, a challenge in his eyes.

  Okay. She wouldn’t be needing any swimwear.

  Welcome to Scandinavia—leave your inhibitions at the door.

  Twenty-One

  Slowly, piece by piece, they pulled off each other’s clothes, leaving them draped over the armchairs. She knew no one would walk in, but still it felt oh-so wicked to be naked in here, standing in front of an equally naked man. She held her arms in front of her chest, suddenly self-conscious with Jakob watching her in the lamplight, even though he’d seen her from every conceiva
ble angle the night before. High on the walls, the trophy heads from Bengt’s hunting trips gazed over their heads, casting surreal shadows.

  He came closer, and in turn, she let her eyes wander up and down his body. It wasn’t a pumped-up gym body, but it obviously belonged to someone who did physical work every day—lean and strong and muscular, capable of handling anything nature could throw at him. And then there was that spot she had to tear her eyes away from—the bold proof of his unselfconscious wanting.

  He took hold of her arms and gently unfolded them from her chest, standing close. Their fingers tangled, and her breasts, now hard-tipped, brushed against his chest. The answering hardness of his own desire teased against her belly, and every millimetre of her skin tingled with anticipation, but she stood firm, prolonging the delicious agony. She looked up. Did her own eyes hold the same drowning hunger she saw in his? They must do.

  When his lips finally met hers, the tidal wave of need propelled her against him, and he pressed her close, closer, with a moan of relief. She heard herself echo the sound, a day of waiting too long without him. One leg around him, one hand on his broad back. His mouth on hers, his fingers in her hair. Both of them foregoing oxygen to breathe the urgency of their kiss. How had she thought she had any choice about whether to do this again? Only the tiniest, waggy-fingered part of her brain was opposed to it. Every other nerve and particle of her body and mind was a resounding, flag-waving, one hundred per cent in favour.

  Then he broke away, leaving her heated and giddy, wanting more.

  “Spa?” he said.

  Was he freaking kidding? Oh God, apparently not. He was pointing to the door.

  “I…suppose so,” she managed, her breath uneven.

  He took her hand and opened the door, and they stepped outside. The cold air hit her like a slap, cutting through the lingering heat of the kiss, making her gasp as she broke out in instant goose-bumps. As fast as she could, she clambered into the pool, too cold to care about what kind of view Jakob might be getting from behind her. With a groan of appreciation, she sank into the water.