The Girl, the Dog and the Writer in Lucerne (The Girl, the Dog and the Writer, #3)

by Katrina Nannestad

  Freja shuddered, relieved that it wasn’t her on the trampoline.

  Turning around, she walked to the bed and watched as the dog ripped her brand-new marmot slipper to shreds.

  ‘Good puppy,’ she said, much to Finnegan’s surprise. ‘Wonderful, marvellous puppy.’

  CHAPTER 35

  New tundras

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Lady P. ‘Yesterday, when you mentioned the fidgeting hands, Freja, I did think of Jane. It gave me quite a turn. But it seemed so crazy. Impossible. I thought she’d have stolen Lord P’s gift and fled the country a week ago. But you are telling me that Jane has been here in Lucerne the whole time.’

  Freja nodded.

  ‘And now she’s in jail!’ cried Lady P.

  ‘Well, sort of,’ said Freja. ‘She’s handcuffed to a hospital bed until they can plaster her leg. And then they’ll take her to jail.’

  ‘It’s justice,’ said Tobias, ‘that Jane should fall from the turret. Now she might understand a little of what she did to you, Lady P.’

  ‘You’re right, Tobby!’ said Freja.

  ‘And Jane never found the key?’ asked Lady P.

  ‘I wouldn’t tell,’ whispered Freja. ‘It was your key, Lady P. Your safety deposit box. Your precious gift from lovely Lord P.’

  ‘So brave,’ murmured Clementine. Her eyes remained closed, but she squeezed Freja’s hand.

  ‘A real live heroine!’ cried Tobias, his eyes shining with pride.

  ‘Our heroine,’ added Vivi.

  Reaching into her pocket, Freja pulled out the little key and pressed it into Lady P’s hand. ‘Safety deposit box number 1054A, Barclay’s Bank, Zurich.’

  Lady P stared at the key.

  Finnegan, who was lying at her side, licked the key.

  Lady P’s mouth opened and closed several times before she could speak. ‘Oh, Freja,’ she whispered. ‘Such a gift!’

  Freja blushed and smiled. ‘And I have something for you too, Mummy Darling Heart,’ she said, suddenly remembering.

  Clementine opened her eyes.

  ‘I was going to bring the chocolate family,’ said Freja, ‘but you know what happened to that. So instead, I’ve brought you this.’ She drew her wooden seal from her pocket. ‘I thought you might like to hold it. I thought it might bring back memories of all the special times we spent together in the Arctic.’

  Clementine smiled and brushed her fingers across the smooth timber. ‘Your father made it for you when you were a baby,’ she said.

  Freja’s eyes darted to Tobias. He pressed his hand to his heart and shook his head, ‘No, old chap. Not me.’

  Freja’s heart sank. She had hoped so dearly, for so long, that Tobias might be her father.

  ‘Svend,’ murmured Clementine. ‘Your father was Svend. A Norwegian biologist with a kind heart, blue eyes and wild golden curls.’

  Freja reached up and touched her own curls and tried the name out. ‘Svend.’

  ‘And your mother,’ continued Clementine, ‘was Anna, a Norwegian photographer with a brave heart, hazel eyes and a smile that sparkled like the sunshine on the fjords.’

  Freja’s ears filled with a whooshing sound. Her head began to spin, and she felt dizzy and scared and sick, all at the same time. It was like being pushed out of a turret. She was falling, falling, falling.

  She flopped down and pressed her face into her mother’s side.

  No! Not her mother!

  She pulled back, confused and angry.

  Her muscles tensed. Ready for action. Ready to leap from the bed, run and hide.

  But she had declared, just yesterday, that she would never run away again. She would be there for Clementine. No matter what.

  So she stayed.

  She shivered . . . and took a deep breath to make herself still.

  ‘Svend and Anna,’ Clementine whispered. ‘They were my dearest friends in Norway. They died, tragically, in a scuba diving accident, but left the very best part of themselves behind.’

  ‘The wooden seal,’ whimpered Freja.

  ‘No!’ gasped Clementine. ‘You, Freja . . . their beautiful, darling two-year-old girl . . . And I had the honour . . . the joy . . . of taking you into my life . . . into my heart . . . into my soul . . .’

  There was a pause and Freja wondered if Clementine had fallen asleep once more. How could she fall asleep at a time like this?! Surely, any minute now, her eyes would snap open and she would laugh and say that she had been confused and this was all nonsense.

  But suddenly, Freja recalled something she had overheard when Tobias first came to London to take her away.

  ‘She’s just like us,’ Tobias had said.

  ‘Please don’t tell her,’ Clementine had replied. ‘Not yet.’

  Freja had thought the ‘just like us’ meant that Tobias was her father. And, of course, she’d never questioned the idea that Clementine was her mother. Why would she?

  But now, with a jolt, she realised that ‘just like us’ meant that Freja was an orphan. Just as Tobias and Clementine were orphans.

  Freja stared as wet drops fell from her cheeks and darkened the linen of her smock. ‘But that makes me nobody’s child,’ she whispered. ‘Not Tobby’s. Not yours. I am nobody.’

  Clementine smiled. She actually smiled!

  ‘Oh, Freja,’ she sighed. ‘You are my child! You are my precious girl. Don’t you see? I chose you.’ She reached up to press her hand against Freja’s cheek. ‘Remember the Arctic fox pups with the reindeer mother?’

  Freja nodded.

  ‘They didn’t start life together, and yet, they became a beautiful family. A happy, loving family. But they were more too. They were a miracle.’

  ‘A Siberian miracle,’ whispered Freja. She couldn’t help smiling at the memory. It was, perhaps, the most wonderful thing she had ever seen.

  Clementine smiled back. ‘We are a miracle, Freja . . . You . . . Me . . . Us. And nothing, absolutely nothing, can ever take that away.’

  Freja stared into Clementine’s loving blue eyes and saw that it was true. What she and Clementine had was a deep and perfect love. She had never questioned it before, so why now? Did it really matter where that love had begun, or that Freja’s blue eyes had not sprung from Clementine’s? What mattered was that the love was real and deep and lasting. That love had made Freja’s childhood rich and beautiful. That love had sustained her, even when she and her mother were far apart. And now, at this late and difficult hour, that love was the most precious thing in this room.

  Freja nodded. ‘Mummy Darling Heart,’ she whispered, and she and Clementine moulded into one. They lay arm in arm, silent, soothing, loving and, finally, sleeping.

  Sometime during the night, Freja woke. Clementine’s head was cradled in Tobias’ lap, her left hand wrapped in Vivi’s. Finnegan lay at the foot of the bed, silent and still, his nose pressed against the sole of Clementine’s foot.

  Something had changed.

  Freja sat up.

  Clementine whispered, ‘I’m going on a new adventure now, Freja.’

  ‘No,’ said Freja. ‘Please, Mummy Darling Heart. Not yet!’

  ‘It’s okay, precious girl. I’ll see new tundras . . . new fjords . . . new forests . . .’

  Clementine now looked up into Tobias’ face. ‘Hero Boy . . .’

  Tobias stroked her cheek. ‘It’s all sorted, old girl,’ he whispered. ‘Freja is already as much a part of my life, my heart, as she is yours. I will be proud to call her my daughter.’ He reached out and touched Vivi’s shoulder. ‘And Vivi will be proud to do the same.’

  Vivi nodded and smiled and began to weep.

  And, even though Freja realised that the worst thing of her life was about to happen, she knew that the best was also here.

  Love.

  Family.

  Eternity.

  Because love and family have no limits.

  As morning approached, Vivi drew back the curtains and Tobias pushed Clementine’s bed to the windo
w. The girl, the dog, the writer and the pretty chef watched the sun rise over Lake Lucerne and the Alps. And as the light fell on Clementine’s face, she stepped silently, peacefully, out onto a new wide tundra.

  CHAPTER 36

  Surprising endings

  Tobias stumbled into the late September sunshine. His bowtie was unravelling, his coat was buttoned into the wrong holes and his blue silk pocket handkerchief was a sodden mess, having just been used to wipe the snout of one of Herr Ummel’s piglets. A clump of notes for his next novel, The Casket, protruded from his trouser pocket and a blunt pencil was tucked behind his left ear.

  ‘Well, old chap?’ The writer smiled and ran his ink-stained fingers through his unruly mop of hair. ‘How do I look?’

  ‘Perfect!’ said Freja. ‘You look exactly the way Vivi will be expecting you to look.’

  Tobias tugged the bottom of his coat to straighten out the wrinkles and one of the buttons popped off. Finnegan dived at it, snapped it up between his teeth, rolled it around his tongue, then swallowed.

  Freja giggled.

  ‘What a marvellous laugh!’ cried Tobias. ‘You sound as merry as a marmot dancing around a bowl of berries. And you look magnificent.’

  Freja blushed.

  Tobias stepped back and spread his arms wide. ‘You’re a vision of loveliness. A pale yellow dress with a hem of fresh edelweiss. A pink mohair cardigan worn inside out. You know that’s my favourite way to wear clothes, although mine are often back to front as well. And your hair! Why, it looks as though a golden eagle has swooped down from the Alps, caught you in its talons and dropped you into a field of edelweiss, a steep field through which you have tumbled and rolled for quite some distance. The way you have tangled those flowers so thoroughly through your wild golden curls is a wonder to behold. My precious girl! You have never looked more beautiful.’

  Freja gasped. ‘Clementine used to call me her precious girl.’ She stared at Tobias, her blue eyes filling with tears.

  Always the tears.

  Even when she was in the middle of feeling happy.

  And then she realised that Tobias’ eyes, too, were flooding, threatening to overflow.

  ‘I’m sorry, Tobby,’ whispered Freja. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his middle. ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’

  ‘But what on earth for?’ cried Tobias.

  ‘For crying,’ whispered Freja. ‘For making you sad on your special day.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with crying,’ said Tobias. ‘I did it at least seven times yesterday, three times in front of Vivi, and once while I was writing a very jolly scene in my crime novel. If a thrilling kidnapping can’t keep the tears away, nothing can, old chap.’

  Freja pulled back and wiped her sleeve across her eyes. ‘But today!’ she sobbed. ‘I promised myself I would not cry today.’

  Tobias squatted down so that they were eye to eye, and rested his hands gently on her shoulders. ‘Clementine will always be in our hearts and minds. We will think of her first thing each day as we wake, and last thing at night before we fall asleep, and a thousand times in between. When we are sad, we will be reminded of just how much we miss her. And when we are happy, it will be the same because we’ll be thinking how much she would have loved being here, sharing in these special moments. Today, especially, we will miss her. But missing her also makes her feel ever so real, don’t you think?’

  Freja sniffed and nodded and began to weep, gently and quietly, but from the depths of her aching heart. Tobias pulled her close, wrapped his gangly arms around her and soaked the top of her head with his own tears. And the dog, unable to bear their sorrow, joined them, poking his nose into their earholes, nibbling their earlobes, licking their cheeks, nuzzling his way deeper and deeper into their embrace, until all three tumbled and sprawled on the grass.

  Freja suddenly found herself laughing and realised that Tobias was right. Sorrow and tears could mingle with sunshine and edelweiss and laughter and love.

  ‘But what is this?’ snapped Herr Ummel, barrelling around the corner of the barn. He was dressed in his best leather knickerbockers, a crisp white shirt and a black vest covered in brightly embroidered flowers. A large, festive feather poked from his green felt hat. ‘Schnell! Schnell! It is time that you join the priest in the meadow beneath the arch of flowers!’

  Freja and Tobias sprang to their feet. Tobias used his sodden handkerchief to wipe his eyes, then Freja’s.

  ‘Ready, old chap?’ asked Tobias.

  ‘Ready,’ said Freja.

  ‘Boof!’ agreed Finnegan.

  The girl, the dog and the writer watched as Vivi walked towards them through the meadow. One of Herr Ummel’s curious cows followed close behind — a fat caramel bridesmaid.

  Vivi wore a frothy white dress that looked like it was made from whipped cream and summertime clouds. Her head was encircled in a wreath of pink and white roses, their blooms wide and full. She carried no bouquet, but as she approached, she reached out and took Tobias’ ink-stained hand in her right, Freja’s small white hand in her left.

  The ceremony was short and sweet. Before the priest had finished declaring, ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife!’ Tobias grabbed Vivi in his arms and kissed her on the lips. Drawing back, he sighed, ‘Raspberry-gelato lips!’ and kissed her once again. Their guests leapt up from their seats, clapping and cheering. They surged forward, shouting their blessings, hugging their love — Manfred and Wilhelm Tell, Frau Niederhauser, François-Louis, Daniel, Herr and Frau Ummel, Herr Basil, Vipp, Vopp and Vupp, Madame Belmont and Fifi, Frau Isch, Rolf, Herr and Frau Berna, Vivi’s mamma and papà, all the way from Rome, and Lady P leaning on a walking stick.

  Together, in a jumble of joy, they walked through the meadows to Herr Ummel’s barn, where they sat at two rough timber tables and ate sausages and schnitzels, Raclette and rösti, apple strudel and cream. And just when everyone thought their tummies were stretched as far as they could go, Frau Niederhauser, François-Louis and Daniel brought out the wedding cake — a five-tiered chocolate gâteau covered in chocolate flowers, leaves, mushrooms, beetles and butterflies. The top was oddly bare.

  Frau Niederhauser invited Vivi and Tobias to stand by the cake. François-Louis opened the lid on a gold cardboard box and held it towards Tobias. Tobias peeped inside and smiled, his green eyes sparkling. He took out a chocolate bride and stood her on the cake, followed by a chocolate groom.

  Freja clasped her hands together and cried, ‘It’s beautiful! Just perfect.’

  ‘Beautiful,’ sang Vivi. ‘But not perfect. I think it still looks a little bare.’

  Freja gasped. How could Vivi say such a thing about this magnificent cake? Her eyes darted from François-Louis to Daniel, then on to Frau Niederhauser. But they did not seem offended. They were nodding, agreeing.

  Tobias shrugged and held the gold box towards Vivi. From it, she took a small chocolate girl with wild curly hair, and a large chocolate dog with shaggy fur, and placed them on the cake with the bride and groom. Stepping back, she tilted her head to one side, pouted her raspberry-gelato lips and nodded. ‘Now it is perfect!’

  The cake was cut and everyone managed to squeeze a slice or two into their already full bellies.

  While fingers and lips were still being licked, Freja climbed to the top of a haystack and waved. The barn fell silent and everyone looked her way. Her legs turned to jelly and her heart leapt into her throat, but she stayed put. She returned their gazes. She even managed to smile.

  Not so very long ago, if just one person had looked her way for too long, Freja would have run away and hidden — behind a cow, beneath a table. But not now. Freja knew that she could do this. After all, she had already done so many new and challenging things this year. She had left Clementine and everything familiar to live with the strange and mysterious Tobias Appleby. She had lived in Rome, Provence and Lucerne, making new homes and new friends in each and every place. She had solved crimes, righted wrongs and ta
ken a stand against thugs and thieves. And she had said goodbye to her beautiful mother and, somehow, carried on. Even though she thought it would be impossible.

  Yes, she could do this!

  For Tobias.

  For Vivi.

  For Clementine.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen and dogs.’

  ‘Boof!’ said Finnegan, grinning and dribbling on the table.

  Freja giggled and felt the wobble leave her legs. ‘When people are kind, we say they have a heart of gold. Tobias Appleby is so very kind and loving and gentle that he has something even more special than a heart of gold. He has a heart of chocolate.’

  Frau Niederhauser sighed and pressed her hands to her cheeks. Herr Berna took his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes.

  ‘My mother, Clementine, knew this,’ said Freja, ‘which is why she trusted Tobby to take care of me . . . forever.’ Freja felt two big tears fall from her eyes. She let them run freely down her cheeks and smiled through the wetness.

  ‘But a heart of chocolate is rare,’ Freja continued, ‘and not something that can be melted together with a normal person’s heart. One chocolate heart deserves another.’ Freja looked down at Vivi and smiled. ‘Vivi, your heart is made from the same pure chocolate as Tobby’s. I am so glad you have found each other and I am so very honoured that you will both share your chocolate hearts with me.’

  Manfred let out one great sob, then stuffed his fist into his mouth. Lady P blew her enormous nose so loudly that somewhere outside a cow replied.

  Freja nodded and Herr Ummel passed her a glass of creamy milk. Holding it up, she shouted, ‘To Vivi and Tobias. May your lives be full of chocolate and love!’

  ‘It is the same thing!’ cried Frau Niederhauser.

  Everyone laughed and raised their glasses and shouted, ‘Chocolate and love!’

  Tobias stood up to reply. He looked from one guest to another, bringing his gaze to rest on Freja. ‘Wonderful words!’ He flung his arms wide and toppled a jug, flooding the table — and several laps — with beer. ‘Whoopsy-daisy!’ Grabbing Frau Isch’s beaded silk shawl from the back of her chair, Tobias used it to mop up the mess.