Christmas Island

by Natalie Normann

  ‘Fisherman by morning, architect by day. That’s quite something.’ She stretched her legs in front of her.

  ‘Not really. I like what I do.’ Tor hadn’t started the boat yet. ‘Don’t you?’

  Holly laughed, but it sounded a bit hollow. ‘Yes, I should, shouldn’t I? Sometimes things don’t work out the way they are supposed to. I…’ She shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine. It’s nothing, really.’

  Tor was sure it was something, and wondered what could have happened at the hospital for them to send her away, but by the look on her face, it must have been something bad since she was being very evasive. He wasn’t going to pressure her. If she didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t want to talk about it, and it was probably better that way. He didn’t want to be part of her life any more than she wanted to be part of his. And he really didn’t want to talk about Linn and how he had basically run away from home. It would be embarrassing.

  He smiled and started the engine. ‘Let’s get back, shall we?’

  Holly smiled back at him, and seemed relieved that he wasn’t pressing the subject. She rubbed Frøy’s head and talked to him, too low for Tor to hear over the sound of the engine.

  Holly hummed when she entered the house. It was warm and cosy, and despite denying it to Tor, she felt cold to the bone. How did he do that all the time?

  She pulled off the outer layers of clothing and went straight up to the bathroom. Lamenting the lack of a bathtub, she hoped a hot shower would warm her up.

  Her feet and the rest of her body were warm enough, but the hot water on her face and hands felt like heaven.

  Afterwards, she put on sweatpants and a sweater, and went downstairs for a hot cup of tea. As she put on the kettle she became aware of an annoying sound.

  On the table was the new phone, which was ringing like crazy.

  Holly picked it up and realised it was chock full of messages from Jack. Pretty hysterical ones as well, she realised.

  And with a lot of swearing. Oh, my, she thought.

  He picked up the moment she called him back.

  ‘Why haven’t you answered your phone? I know you have a new one,’ he said. ‘Dad told me.’

  ‘I forgot it on the kitchen table and I’ve been out all morning. What’s going on? Has something happened to Rosie or Ninni? Or Dad?’ Holly could feel the instant worry in the pit of her stomach. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘No, of course not, everybody is fine, I promise. But I’m having a crisis and you need to help me,’ he said.

  Holly exhaled slowly. Everyone was okay, so that was good. ‘Okay. What kind of crisis? If it’s has anything to do with cooking, you know I’m useless.’

  ‘No, there’s no cooking. You know I wouldn’t ask you to do anything as daft as that, surely. Do you know about the Christmas market?’

  ‘Yes, I think Alma invited me. Sort of, anyway. Why?’ Holly was on tenterhooks now. Whatever he wanted her to do, it was probably something demanding and exhausting. ‘Do I have to peel potatoes for hours again? Because if that’s it, then you’re going to have to pay me a lot more than a Harry Potter book,’ she said, remembering that one time he had asked her to do something in the restaurant.

  ‘That old complaint again? And I gave you all the Harry Potter books and a wand, if I remember correctly.’

  Holly leaned over the counter, smiling at her reflection in the window. ‘Fine. What do you need?’

  ‘Right. Well, the problem is that we can’t get back in time for me to do it myself. Ninni’s mum has taken ill and we’ve had to rebook our tickets. I’m really sorry, Holly, but I need you to take my place at the market.’

  Holly burst out laughing. ‘Are you off your rocker? I can’t do that. I’ll make a mess of it. What if anyone wants me to cook?’ She vaguely remember that Alma had mentioned something about that.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Holly. I need you to run my stall. All you have to do is to sell stuff. I’m sure you can handle that.’

  Holly wasn’t sure at all that she could, but she could hear the urgency in his voice. ‘Fine. What do I have to sell in this stall?’

  ‘All the food and condiments is in the stabbur. You have to organise it and set it up nicely, and sell it to the nice people who want Christmassy things. Everything is already priced, so all you have to do is be helpful and take their money.’

  ‘What kind of food am I selling?’

  She put on the kettle while talking.

  ‘Biscuits and jam, and, well, lots of different stuff. Everything is labelled, so it shouldn’t be too hard, and Britt knows where everything is. Listen, Holly. I’ve put a lot of work into this, it’s supposed to be like a tasting platter for the restaurant. So it’s important. You can manage, right?’

  He was pleading and Holly rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her. ‘Of course I can manage. I’ll talk to Britt and get it all sorted. Don’t worry. I’ll even send you pictures. How does that sound?’

  ‘That sounds brilliant. I owe you.’

  ‘Not really. I’ve been gorging on your food and using Ninni’s winter clothes; the least I can do is be helpful. When does this thing start?’

  ‘Saturday at ten, I think. Britt knows. Well, they all know.’

  In the background Holly could hear Rosie screaming at the top of her lungs. ‘I have to go before she explodes… or someone else does,’ Jack said.

  Holly laughed when she put down the mobile. He was living his best life, as they say. She felt a stab of jealousy. Her life was such a mess and she had no idea how to fix it.

  She brought the steaming mug of tea with her to the lounge, leaving the snacks in the kitchen for now, and patting herself mentally on the shoulder for her self-discipline.

  The laptop was on the little dining table and she brought it with her to the sofa and settled in for a Google session. Perhaps Jocelyn was free to chat. She won’t believe the morning I’ve had, Holly thought.

  From the sofa, she discovered a biscuit box on a shelf. It was red, it had snowflakes on it, and she was willing to bet there was something yummy in there.

  When she opened the box, she laughed. It was filled to the rim with allsorts, coffee creams, even some of Jack’s homemade truffles. This has to be Jack’s stash, she thought. All the goodies from home. He hadn’t become completely Norwegian just yet, she thought with a satisfied sigh.

  She popped a truffle in her mouth and it was so delicious she closed her eyes to savour it. A few allsorts later, she opened the computer and checked emails with half an eye. Nothing from the hospital.

  Holly let out her breath, not sure if she should be relieved or nervous.

  It was such a nightmare. She had never in a million years imagined she would end up in a situation like this. A board of strangers deciding her future. It irked her, but there was nothing to do but bite it down if she wanted to keep her future.

  Another email gave her the distraction she needed. Jocelyn had sent her pictures from the hospital.

  The intention was clear. Everyone who had been on duty with her was waving placards with “Come Home, Holly. We miss you!” written on them.

  Jocelyn held up a different sign that said “Brian is in deep shit. He can’t charm his way out of this, please don’t worry”.

  I so hope that’s true, Holly thought and took a deep breath. She felt a million light years away from home, and suddenly had the worst case of homesickness she’d experienced since she arrived on the island.

  She popped another allsorts in her mouth, and wrote back to Jocelyn. Then she wrote an email to Danny, telling him all about the fishing boat and the crabs, knowing he would love that.

  It didn’t take long until she felt better. No matter what happened, she would soon be home again and life would be back to normal.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Britt was at the door before Holly had managed to make herself a cup of tea the next day. She looked at the clock on the wall. Barely nine in the morning. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ she mutt
ered.

  The knocking made her drop the teabag on the floor, and she greeted Britt holding the bag.

  ‘God morgen,’ Britt said with a wide grin. ‘I’m here to help.’

  ‘God, you people get up at the crack of dawn,’ she said, opening the door.

  ‘Well, the crack of dawn is in half an hour, so you’ll be fine.’ Britt was dressed much like Tor had been, with a heavy coat and matching trousers.

  ‘Jack called you, didn’t he?’ Holly rolled her eyes.

  ‘Yes, of course. He thought you might need some guidance from the wisest woman on the island.’

  Britt stepped inside the hallway and closed the door behind her. She stomped her feet, shaking off snow and rain, before taking off her boots.

  ‘It’s freezing today and I forgot my gloves.’ She rubbed her hands together.

  ‘There’s about a million gloves here. I’m sure you can borrow a pair,’ Holly said.

  ‘Good. I’ll do that. Do you have anything else other than that teabag?’

  Holly lifted up her hand. ‘Yes. There’s coffee and some other types of tea, if you prefer that.’

  ‘Coffee will do.’ Britt hung up her coat and followed Holly into the kitchen. ‘I see Ninni’s gone berserk with the decorations again.’

  ‘Alma said something similar. I wouldn’t know,’ Holly said.

  ‘I don’t bother with it much, to be honest. I’ll put up lights in the window and the garden, and bring in a tree, and have tons of Christmas marzipan and cookies, of course, but that’s about it,’ Britt said, sinking down on one of the kitchen chairs.

  Holly put on the kettle again. ‘I have plenty of food, if you want breakfast.’

  ‘Only if you have something sweet. I’d love some pastry, to be honest.’

  Holly smiled. ‘I’d get you some coffee creams only I polished them off last night. I have some of those cookie men, the white ones. They’re different than the pepper men, right?’

  Britt nodded. ‘Well, there’s no spices in the yulemen. If you have one, I wouldn’t mind. I like those.’

  Holly found the bag in the breadbox and handed it to Britt. ‘I found that on the door handle the other day. I thought perhaps it was from Emil’s parents. How is he?’

  ‘Emil is living up to his name, being as annoying as possible. Which is surprisingly easy when you’re nine years old,’ Britt said, dipping the head of the yuleman in her coffee. ‘He’s sporting quite the shiner, and struts around as if it’s a badge of honour.’

  ‘Did Jack say why he called you?’ Holly held up her hand. ‘No, you don’t have to answer that. I know. He doesn’t trust me.’

  Britt looked surprised. ‘I wouldn’t say that, but there’s a lot to do. Lots of carrying and decorating and whatnot. The market is held in the town square and there will be people from town and from the hinterland coming in to sell their wares and produce. We try to outdo ourselves every year.’

  ‘What? With, like, a theme or something? Wouldn’t that just be Christmas?’ Holly said.

  ‘Sure, we’re not going overboard, but people come to buy presents and goodies to take home. We have people who have been knitting all sorts of things, from baby clothes to potholders. There’s also plenty of foodstuff, from me, Jack, and the few farmers we have left. The kids contribute with Christmas decorations.’

  ‘And they sell?’

  ‘Well, sort of. Mostly to their family members, I’m afraid, but since a lot of their family is at the market, they always sell out. The kids donate their money to a charity. I mean, we have to do something to remind them about the spirit of Christmas.’ Britt looked pleased.

  Holly frowned. ‘Will you have one of those stalls?’

  ‘Of course. I have a permit to sell my beer and other brews, as long as no one drinks any of it on the premises. I know Jack has made eggnog and also experimented with liqueur, but unfortunately nobody is allowed to sell stronger stuff than a light beer or cider.’ Britt shook her head, then immediately brightened up. ‘He actually used cherries from the tree outside this house.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s really pleased about that. Unfortunately it doesn’t seem like he has left any of that here,’ Holly said, smiling at Britt.

  ‘I did taste that eggnog.’ Britt wrinkled her nose. ‘I prefer beer.’

  ‘Me too, but eggnog is part of the Christmas experience, isn’t it? My dad loves the stuff,’ Holly said.

  Britt nodded. ‘We met him last summer when he was here. No eggnog then, but he did enjoy the beer.’

  ‘I remember that. He couldn’t stop talking about it.’ Holly took a bite from one of the cookies.

  ‘Nice man,’ Britt said in a voice that made Holly frown.

  ‘Yes, uhm, what are we doing today? The market is on Saturday, right?’

  ‘It is. Most of us have been there since the start, at the weekends. This weekend’s market is the last before Christmas. We have taken some of Jack’s stuff with us, and there are loads of people asking for it, so you should make a killing,’ Britt finished her coffee and stood. ‘Time to go, I think. I have to catch the ferry in an hour and they really don’t wait for anyone.’

  Holly pulled on the outfit Tor had given her, and Britt nodded in appreciation. ‘You are dressed like a proper islander now. Where did you get the clothes? I can’t remember Ninni wearing anything like it.’

  Holly smiled. ‘I got it from Tor yesterday. We went fishing on his boat, watched the sun rise, and had sort of a picnic.’

  Britt looked surprised for a second, then smiled from ear to ear. ‘So all we needed to get him to join the living was you. I’m not surprised. Did you have fun?’

  ‘I did. I’ve never seen a cat in a life vest before.’

  ‘Yeah, I bet that was the most interesting thing,’ Britt said. ‘Make sure to wear that on Saturday. It can easily be cold in town, especially since we’re outside all day.’

  Outside the wind whipping up a storm. Holly pulled the jacket tighter around herself regretting not using the trousers Tor had given her. ‘Is it going to get worse than this?’

  ‘Oh, it’s lovely,’ Britt declared when they stood on top of the pathway leading down to the farm. She closed her eyes and lifted her face.

  ‘The wind?’ Holly wasn’t so sure. It was biting her face and ears. She pulled down the hat.

  Britt laughed. ‘This is barely a small gale. I love the weather out here. Even now, and especially when it storms properly. I go to the edge of the water when it’s really bad. Makes me feel alive.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ Holly said, grinning at her.

  ‘If you stay here long enough, you’ll catch it. Much like Jack did,’ Britt said, grinning back.

  ‘Catch what?’ Holly said as Britt linked her arms through hers and started walking down the rough path leading to Jack’s farm.

  ‘Island fever, of course,’ Britt said.

  Island fever. Holly pondered the idea. ‘Well, I won't be here long enough for that. I have London fever,’ she said.

  Britt only smiled. ‘Sometimes it doesn’t take long. Although I know what you mean. I get London fever the moment I set foot on Heathrow tarmac.’

  They climbed down until they stood on the farmyard.

  ‘There’s nothing in the house. Everything edible is in stabburet, and lucky me, I have a key.’ Britt pulled out a key-chain from her pocket.

  Holly looked at the building. It was odd, resting on four piles of stones and thick timber legs. Also, the top was bigger than the bottom. The roof had grass on it – dry and brittle grass, but still. It also had protruding gavels and looked ancient in her eyes.

  ‘Why is it built like this?’

  ‘Like what?’ Britt looked at the “legs”. ‘Oh, that. It’s to keep the food safe. Stabburet used to be a farm’s refrigerator slash food storage building in the olden days. It was built this way to keep mice and rats from having wild food parties.’

  Holly could picture rodents giving up trying to get inside, especia
lly since the steps up to the door were high and not for people with bad knees. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said, wondering what Tor would say about it.

  Britt opened the door and pushed it open. ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’

  ‘Oh god, not you, too. No, I don’t.’ Holly followed Britt inside and looked around. ‘But if I did, they would haunt a place like this, wouldn’t they?’

  It was so dark, Holly could barely see her hands in front of her. She didn’t dare move in case there was something she could trip over.

  ‘Smell that. Isn’t it fantastic?’ Britt’s voice seemed to exist on its own.

  ‘It smells like food. Sausages, maybe. And plenty of dust and something burned, like logs,’ Holly said, trying to get Britt to laugh and hoping the other woman wouldn’t notice her voice shaking slightly.

  ‘Voila,’ Britt said and turned on the lights, which went on with a series of clicks and fluorescent shimmer.

  Britt took a deep breath and smiled. ‘It smells like money,’ she said.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘In the old days, when they fished for herring along the coast, they also had factories that produced herring oil. The oil would stink up the town if the wind turned east. I haven’t smelled it myself, but Alma claims it smelled god awful. The fishermen would claim it smelled like money.’ Britt pointed at the ceiling. ‘Except these moneymakers smell delicious, of course.’

  Holly looked at rows of packages wrapped in white gauze.

  ‘That’s from the sheep, isn’t it?’ Holly remembered Jack telling her about it.

  ‘Oh, yes. There’s a lot of work and love behind that. They are the ones already sold and will be delivered to people before Christmas. The ones that were ordered by out-of-towners, we have already sent.’

  She spoke very efficiently and to the point. This is Britt doing business, Holly thought. She tried to nod in the right places.

  ‘Now, all these are what we are bringing to the market.’ Britt pointed at a large workbench on the side. Several cardboard boxes were set up neatly on top of it.

  ‘Jack loves this, all this food.’ Holly followed Britt to the bench.