Love at the Northern Lights

by Love at the Northern Lights (re

  In light of what she’d told him, Jonas said it was completely understandable, but he got the impression that it would take a lot to convince Freya of that now. His main concern was what she intended on doing about what she’d told him. She thought that Frankie knew and that it was why she’d come to Oslo, but she wasn’t certain and therefore wanted to handle her daughter carefully; Freya wanted to know more about her daughter and why she had come before having a frank conversation. If Frankie was oblivious to who she was, then she wanted to tell her but it would need to be done gently.

  It had made Jonas’s head hurt just thinking about how complicated it all was. He cared deeply about Freya; she had been friend and mentor to him and like another mother. Finding out that she’d carried this heartache all this time, that this was in fact the reason why she’d always seemed haunted by something in her past, made him sad. She always came across as strong and independent but she’d been so hurt and so wronged that it made his blood boil. Whatever happened though, he knew that he’d be there to support Freya. It was evident now that he was all she had.

  However, if she could form some sort of relationship with Frankie, who seemed like a lovely young woman, then surely that would be a good thing for them both?

  ‘You should come with us.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You should come away this weekend, Freya. It will give you the chance to find out more about Frankie.’

  ‘But what if she doesn’t want me there?’

  ‘I’m sure that she will do. Whether she knows who you are or not, it’s clear that she likes you. When you go shopping with her tomorrow, tell her that you’re coming too and see how she takes it. Besides, I hate to think of you here alone after what you’ve told me.’

  ‘Jonas, I’m old enough and tough enough to manage on my own. I’ve been doing just that all these years.’

  ‘But now it is different.’

  ‘It is?’

  He nodded. ‘Now I know that you have reasons to be sad and I’m worried about you.’

  ‘Well, that’s very kind of you but I’ll be fine. Although, perhaps you’re right and coming would be a good way to get to know Frankie.’

  ‘Then it’s agreed. And, Freya, it is OK to rely on some people. I’m here for you, just as you have been here for me.’

  ‘Thank you. That means a lot.’

  ‘You can trust me. I will not let you down.’

  ‘You’re a good man, Jonas.’

  He smiled then raised his glass.

  ‘To family.’

  ‘To the family we create for ourselves.’

  They clinked glasses then Jonas sipped his drink, savouring the smoky taste and the warmth as he swallowed the twelve-year-old single malt.

  He meant every word. Freya was his family and he would be there for her, and hopefully ensure that she didn’t get hurt again.

  Chapter 15

  Freya had sent Frankie a text and asked her to meet at the gallery at eleven the next day. She’d said she had some paperwork to sort before they went shopping.

  When Frankie arrived at the gallery, she paused outside, her stomach feeling as though she was on a roller coaster. The dinner she’d had with Freya and Jonas had been an intense experience and she was still trying to work out how she felt about everything. For a start, there was Freya, who seemed nothing like the woman her grandmother had told her about, and then there was Jonas. Frankie had not been expecting to meet a man like him when she came looking for her mother. Jonas was undeniably a welcome addition – her emotions about Freya were so complicated, and so long developed, that he was proving a useful distraction. Even if she had to admit that she was confused by her reactions to him. Jonas was everything she’d never have gone for in a man before but she was starting to question her previous thoughts and behaviour, to wonder at what she’d thought was attractive in a man.

  Preconceptions… hers were certainly being blown apart since she’d come to Norway.

  ‘And long may it continue,’ she said as she pushed open the door to the gallery.

  ‘Good morning.’ Jonas was sitting at the desk going through some papers with a customer opposite him.

  ‘Morning.’ She smiled but didn’t go over, as he was clearly busy.

  ‘Freya’s out the back,’ Jonas said. ‘She won’t be long.’

  Frankie nodded then went to look at a new display of photographs that had been set up on one of the central boards. They were beautiful depictions of Norwegian wildlife, from foxes to squirrels to wolves, all going about their daily routines, oblivious to the fact that they were being captured on camera. There was a name next to them that Frankie didn’t recognize.

  ‘She’s a friend.’

  Frankie turned and gazed up at Jonas who had joined her, leaving his customer at the desk looking through a brochure.

  ‘The photographer?’

  He nodded. ‘Sigfrid Nilson. Aren’t they incredible?’

  ‘They are. She has such an eye for detail.’

  ‘She’s very talented.’

  Frankie was surprised by the pang that pierced her at Jonas’s praise of his friend. For one thing, it was irrational on so many levels to feel, what was it… jealous, and it was so unlike her to experience that emotion. She’d never been jealous when Rolo had praised other women; she hadn’t even been jealous when Jen had told her that Rolo had gone on their honeymoon with another woman. Well… perhaps a tiny bit peeved that he had moved on with his life so quickly, after Frankie had given him years of hers, but not jealous.

  But now it was as if she were waking up from a long sleep in which her emotions had been dulled or not properly formed. She didn’t even mind experiencing a flash of the green-eyed monster in this instance, even though it was irrational, because she was just glad to be experiencing more intense emotions. It proved that she could care about other things, that she did have a range of emotions available.

  ‘I’ll have to introduce you to her when she’s back in town.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ I think…

  ‘Frankie!’ Freya breezed through the gallery, her black waterfall cardigan billowing around her slim frame. She kissed Frankie’s cheeks, leaving a wave of floral perfume in her wake. ‘Apologies for the delay. Have you been waiting long?’

  ‘No, I’ve only just arrived.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Jonas said to them both, ‘I’d better get back to Mr Hanslow. He’s trying to decide upon a suitable gift for his wife for their thirtieth wedding anniversary.’

  ‘Thirty years?’ Frankie gasped. ‘Wow!’

  ‘Exactly what I said.’ Jonas nodded. ‘See you later.’

  He returned to the client and lowered his large frame into the desk chair. Frankie watched him for a moment, admiring how his black shirt showed off his broad shoulders and strong arms. She could just imagine him working out. But then, he was probably one of those naturally muscular men, who stayed in shape doing traditional manly things like chopping wood and pulling a sled.

  Chopping wood? Pulling a sled? Jeez…

  She realized that Freya was watching her watching Jonas and heat rushed into her cheeks.

  ‘He’s very handsome, isn’t he?’ Freya smiled knowingly.

  ‘Uh… yes. Yes, he is.’

  ‘And a good man.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Frankie willed the heat to leave her cheeks. This situation could have been so different if Freya had been there to raise her. Would they have discussed things like boyfriends and crushes? Would Freya have advised Frankie about all the things mothers traditionally did? Frankie had relied upon Jen and the girls at boarding school, magazines and blogs for advice about things like romance, periods and growing up. It was at times like that that she’d missed having a mother more than ever. She’d longed for a mum to hug her and make her dinner, then cuddle her on the sofa as they’d watched a movie together. There’d been none of that with Grandma; it just wasn’t her style. And as for celebrations such as Mother’s Day, birthdays and
Christmas… Frankie had endured them rather than enjoyed them, wondering all the time what life might have been like had her mother stayed and what type of mother Freya would have been. For Frankie, this knowledge sat between them like an eight-foot wall, a lifetime of hurt and loss, of wasted love and simmering resentment. Could they ever make up for that? Frankie sincerely doubted it and the knowledge made her feel as awkward as a teenager standing in front of school assembly.

  ‘Shall we go shopping then?’ Freya asked, saying words Frankie had dreamt of hearing for almost thirty years.

  She shook herself, trying to clear her head of the obstacles that could prevent this relationship from getting off the starting blocks. If she didn’t even try, then what was the point of being here?

  ‘Yes, I’d like that.’

  ‘Me too.’

  *

  Freya was efficient and experienced, guiding Frankie around the appropriate shops and telling her exactly what she’d need for the trip, and Frankie was really grateful because she wouldn’t have thought of half the things she’d need. In the past, on skiing trips and cruises, personal shoppers had whizzed around stores such as Harrods and Selfridges, then arrived in the private VIP rooms and placed whatever Frankie would need right in front of her. It had been effortless, too easy in fact, and although the items provided had been lovely – and always expensive – Frankie had missed being able to select things for herself. She loved browsing the rails of the department stores, running her hands over the different materials of dresses, trousers, jackets and lingerie. It was a pleasure to combine colours and textures, to create whole outfits that would mix and match. But her shopping trips had to be done without Grandma’s knowledge, because Grandma was of the opinion that ladies of their class didn’t need to trail around shops; that was what the personal shopper service was for. Grandma would have been even more horrified if she’d found out about Frankie’s penchant for vintage clothing. She loved having the chance to scour the charity shops and small emporiums that smelt of leather, mixed washing powders, fabric softeners and mothballs. Finding a vintage garment was a secret thrill that would never die for her, and she loved the fact that those clothes had a history; they weren’t brand new and soulless. Someone, somewhere, had also worn the clothes – possibly twenty, thirty or fifty years ago – and it made Frankie feel connected to the past. Of course, she suspected it could have something to do with her need to feel that she belonged somewhere, to connect with her mother in some way, even if it was just by wearing something that had been fashionable when she had been younger. Frankie always hid the vintage clothes from her grandmother or claimed that they were new but retro, as Grandma would never have empathized with wearing a second-hand garment.

  Within two hours, Frankie had wool underwear, hiking boots with thick insoles, a pair of arctic boots, thick woollen socks, two hats, two pairs of gloves, a scarf, a wind-and waterproof coat – that was even warmer than the one she’d bought already – and down-padded overalls. According to Freya, layering was key. The clothes weren’t exactly glamorous but they were practical. Frankie wondered if anyone had ever thought to make an outdoorsy range that was more aesthetically pleasing. She knew that some of the surf and skateboard style brands did some ski wear but surely there was a whole market available here for the right range?

  Before they’d gone to the counter to pay in the first shop, Freya had asked Frankie if she was all right for money, and Frankie had replied that money wasn’t an issue. If Freya wondered why Frankie was able to spend money without worrying, then she didn’t show it. Frankie did earn money from her job and didn’t just spend her father’s and Grandma’s.

  ‘Shall we go for coffee?’ Freya asked.

  ‘That’s a great idea.’

  They found a coffee shop, went in and found a table.

  ‘I’ll just pop to the loo.’

  Freya got up and Frankie was left alone. She pushed her bags under the table to make sure that no one passing would trip over them then took her mobile out of her bag and swiped the screen. Every time she did that at the moment, she held her breath, wondering if there would be an unpleasant text message or missed call from home. Thankfully, it was clear, but she had alerts from Facebook on the app, so she opened it and scrolled down.

  And there it was; even more evidence that Rolo had moved on very quickly indeed. Photo after photo of him and Lorna, tanned and grinning, in the villa, on sun loungers, in the sea and even in the king-size bed with the white-muslin canopy as he fed Lorna chunks of pineapple. A twinge of something flickered through her and she paused, trying to work out what it was, but she couldn’t pinpoint if it was jealousy, anger or relief. It was likely a combination of the three.

  Rolo and Lorna looked so… right together. As if they fitted.

  Frankie exited the app then opened her photographs and scanned them until she found one of her and Rolo. It had been taken in the spring. Months ago! She couldn’t recall having a more recent one done and Rolo’s mother had taken this. They sat together at a table in a restaurant and Rolo had thrown his arm around her shoulder. They smiled at the camera but something about her expression suggested that her smile was forced. She thought of the easy smile on Rolo’s face when he was with Lorna, then examined his smile on the photo with her. It was clearly different. Rolo didn’t look relaxed or happy and neither did Frankie.

  Had their relationship been such a strained charade then? Were they trying to find something that wasn’t there, as if a personal shopper had paired them up like a jacket and trousers, because they were a good match, making them push their personal preferences aside?

  How sad it would have been for them both if they’d got married. They could have spent years together living a half life, never knowing fulfilment.

  ‘Looking at anything nice?’ Freya asked when she returned to the table.

  ‘Oh… no, not really.’

  ‘No? I’m not prying but it looked like a photograph of you and a man. Do you have a boyfriend then?’

  Frankie turned her phone to show Freya.

  ‘He’s handsome.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Boyfriend?’

  ‘Fiancé. Was my fiancé, I mean.’

  Freya was frowning. ‘You were getting married?’

  ‘Yes. Last Saturday.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I couldn’t go through with it.’

  ‘I’m sorry. That must have been a hard decision to make.’

  ‘It was. But it was the right one.’

  ‘How did your… family react?’

  ‘Well, my father told me to do what was right for me but my grandmother…’

  ‘Was furious?’

  Frankie nodded. ‘I saw her as I was heading down the driveway, basically running away from my fiancé’s family home, and she said a few unpleasant things. Then I spoke to her last night and she gave me a more severe dressing-down.’

  Freya reached across the table and patted Frankie’s hand. ‘I’m sorry. Sometimes, people can be difficult.’

  Frankie gazed into Freya’s eyes. There was understanding there and it comforted her. Freya knew Grandma and would have an idea of how formidable she could be, although in this case she didn’t know that Frankie was talking about Helen Ashford. Of course she didn’t, because as far as Frankie could tell she had no idea who Frankie was. And that was the way it was going to stay. For now. Until Frankie felt certain that she could tell her who she was. Until she felt that she could trust her.

  ‘Shall we order some lunch as well?’ Freya asked.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  And in spite of the fact that a secret sat between them, a secret that could send Freya running for the hills, Frankie felt a bit closer to her. Even if their relationship would never be what she had longed for, at least she had this moment, a moment when she sensed an understanding between them. It was a step in the right direction.

  Chapter 16

  Friday morning, Frankie was packed and ready
to go. She’d managed to get all of her new clothing into the rucksack Freya had suggested she purchase after they’d had lunch, and although it was heavy, she could manage it more easily than her Versace suitcase. The latter wouldn’t have been at all practical for an expedition.

  She walked through the hotel lobby, then through the automatic doors. Outside, the morning air was chilly so she pulled the feather-filled jacket closed over her chest and stuffed her hands into the deep pockets. Jonas had told her that he’d collect her in his car then they’d head to the airport.

  The thought of seeing him again was exciting, even at six in the morning. He’d sent her a text yesterday, telling her to rest as much as possible, because the next three days would be busy. She’d tried to take his advice, flicking through her ereader and trying to lose herself in a fictional world, but her mind was too restless to focus for long. So she’d tried to watch a movie but that hadn’t worked either. She just hoped that getting away from everything as she headed to the largest city of northern Norway would be what she needed to clear her head.

  A dark grey Volvo pulled up in front of the hotel then Jonas got out, so she hurried towards the vehicle. He took her rucksack and hefted it into the boot.

  ‘Morning, Frankie. You OK?’ he said once they were sitting in the front seats.

  ‘Yes, thank you. Are you?’

  ‘All good, yes. Looking forward to the tour?’

  ‘Very much.’

  He started the engine then drove them through the quiet streets.

  ‘We just need to stop and collect Freya.’

  ‘She mentioned she was hoping to come along but she wasn’t sure. I take it she was able to get her friend who occasionally works at the gallery to step in for a few days?’

  Jonas nodded but kept his eyes on the road.