Christmas Island

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Christmas Island Page 16

by Natalie Normann


  There were kids everywhere, holding sticky sweets and most wearing some kind of Christmassy outfit: red hats, bright red dots on their faces, and colourful scarves.

  He remembered the excitement of that age. The thrill of going out when it was dark to see all the Christmas lights and getting a taste of what was to come.

  He discovered that most people were heading in the same direction. Most likely to the market, he thought and followed them down the street.

  A few minutes later he found himself in front of the Christmas market. It was placed on the town square below the town hall.

  The pink one, he thought and smiled. There was something so silly about an Italian style building, brightly pink, in the middle of a west coast Norwegian town.

  At the market, there seemed to be endless rows of stalls, filled with everything anyone could imagine they needed for Christmas.

  Tor ventured into the crowd, hoping that if he just walked around, he’d find Holly.

  The smell of food permeated the air – that, and cheerful Christmas music coming from loudspeakers, strategically placed everywhere.

  Tor walked past all sorts of arts and crafts; both traditional and modern by the look of it, everything from knitwear and decorations carved in wood, to honey wax candles, to all sorts of teas and coffees, and mass produced Christmas decorations and toys. He stopped by a stall selling trolls. They made him smile and he couldn’t resist buying one for Holly. The troll seller pointed vaguely in the opposite direction when he asked if she knew where the islanders were.

  Tor stuffed the troll in his pocket, feeling stupid at once. But it reminded him of Holly and hopefully she’d like it.

  Or maybe she would be insulted, he wasn’t too sure.

  Holly rubbed her hands together. She couldn’t use the thick mittens when she wrapped items or handled money, and it felt as if her fingers were about to fall off. Unfortunately, the heat lamp Tobben had put up in her stall made absolutely no difference.

  Holly blew on her fingers again. Nobody else seemed bothered by the cold. What were these people made off? Did they have no sense of temperature? Alma stood a few stalls down from her, selling knitwear and Christmas cakes. She recognised them from the coffee shop Tor had taken her to. They were the ones made almost completely of marzipan, baked in rings, and put on top of each other. And they were very popular, from what she could see.

  Britt was on the other side of her, together with Tobben. They were selling meat from the stabbur, and of course Britt’s beer, and people were waiting in a long queue. Britt had said that most of the meat had already been ordered and were just there to be picked up by buyers.

  Holly had made several pyramids of Jack’s products on the table, and kept replacing them with new items all the time. Bitter orange marmalade, lingonberry and crowberry jam, Jack’s special mustard and a whole stack of all of his biscuits, packed in lovely, Christmassy paper.

  There had been plenty of people stopping by her stall. She had sold almost all the mustard and the cookies already. Jack would be pleased.

  ‘I brought you this,’ Britt popped inside the stall, holding two paper cups with some kind of steaming brew.

  Britt handed her a cup. ‘It’ll warm you right up. I could hear your teeth chattering from my stall.’

  ‘Doesn’t Tobben need your help?’

  ‘He can manage for a minute. Besides, he’s more effective this way. People are scared to say no to him. Now drink.’

  The cup was blissfully warm and Holly folded her fingers around it. It smelled of spices and she could see raisins in it. Holly frowned. ‘Mulled wine?’

  Britt pulled a face. ‘We call it gløgg. No alcohol in it, I’m afraid. It’s not permitted at these things.’

  The gløgg was a lot sweeter than she expected and Holly wasn’t sure what to make of it. Mostly she was grateful it was warm.

  Britt laughed. ‘Oh, you should see your face. What you have there is the baby friendly version; made with a – oh I don’t know how to explain this – it’s a sort of squash with berries, some apple juice, spices, mostly cinnamon, and raisins. Normally we use red wine.’

  ‘It smells good,’ Holly said, taking another sip.

  ‘That it does. You might want to try Alma’s hot cocoa as well. That’s to die for.’ Britt pointed at Alma’s stall. Jens was busy filling cups from a large pot, handing them out to red-faced children.

  Holly put down the not-wine. ‘Maybe I’ll try that later.’

  Britt looked over her shoulder, and could see Tobben in what looked like a heated argument with a costumer. ‘I have to go back before he does something stupid. You’re doing really well, Holly.’

  Holly was ridiculously happy with the praise. Most people, after realising she didn’t speak a word of Norwegian, happily chatted in English.

  She checked the stock behind the desk. She had already sold so much, she was worried she would run out soon.

  ‘Oh, hi. You must be Holly,’ a chirpy woman said, smiling broadly at her.

  ‘Yes, I guess I must be. Hi.’ Holly had no idea who she was.

  The woman had long, blonde hair, braided into messy plaits and had one kid in each hand. Both kids were dressed in the same red woollen hat and red vest, the same kind of overalls Holly was wearing, and boots.

  She spoke sharply when one of them, the smallest one, tried to pull loose. She was having none of that.

  ‘I have to drop these two over there with the choir. They’re on soon.’ The woman pointed over to a group of children standing by a huge Christmas tree. ‘They’re only going to sing two songs, so I’ll be back afterwards to help you,’ she said.

  ‘Right. And you must be?’ Holly didn’t want to let her behind the stall without knowing who she was.

  ‘Oh, of course. I’m Sigrid, this is Ole and Anja. We have a smallholding on the other side of the island. Jack and my Olav work together.’ She nodded at her children. ‘They have talked about you ever since you took care of Emil’s eye.’

  ‘I was happy to help, but I hope they are more careful with snowballs now,’ Holly said.

  Sigrid laughed. ‘I wouldn’t bet on it, but I did have a stern talking to Ole about not throwing snowballs in people’s faces.’

  The girl, nine or ten, Holly guessed, grinned widely at her and said something she didn’t understand.

  Sigrid looked at her. ‘You can say that in English, Anja. Go ahead.’

  ‘Are you Jack’s sister?’ Anja said, and immediately had the giggles.

  Holly smiled at the little girl. ‘Yes, I am.’

  Anja frowned, clearly trying to formulate new words. ‘Hi, Jack’s sister,’ she finally said.

  Sigrid smiled at her. ‘A bit of stage fright, I’m afraid.’

  ‘No, that’s really good. Thank you, Anja. It’s nice to meet you too.’

  Ole interrupted, not wanting to be outshined by his sister. ‘Hi, Jack’s sister,’ he piped up.

  ‘Hi Ole,’ Holly said. It came out as “Ollie”, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  Sigrid rolled her eyes. ‘This could go on for ever. I’ll be right back, I promise.’

  She hauled the kids with her towards the Christmas tree.

  Holly couldn’t help laughing. She’s something else, she thought. She rubbed her hands together again. The gløgg was finished and so was the heat. She blew hot air on her fingers yet again, and turned back towards the Christmas tree.

  Tor was standing there, looking at her. He had come! Holly lifted her hand and waved at him, but he turned around and disappeared.

  What on earth was he doing? What was wrong with him? Holly gaped. Why would he come and then run away when he saw her? Because that’s what it looked like.

  She was distracted by a few costumers, and then Jens came over to the stall and grinned at her. He held out a cup. ‘Britt told me to give you this.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Holly looked at the cup. There was a large dollop of whipped cream on it, with a sprinkle of what looked like cinna
mon. A spoon stuck out of the yumminess.

  ‘I made that,’ Jens said, beaming at her.

  She took a sip and knew she had cream all over her lip. ‘This is absolutely delicious, Jens.’

  ‘That’s because I add a bit of coffee for the adults. Just a hint, mind you, and also there’s real vanilla in it. It’s my own recipe.’

  Holly could see why Jack liked him so much. He reminded her of an overexcited Santa, especially since he had on a red bobble hat.

  ‘Are you sure you haven’t put anything else in this?’ she teased to make him smile.

  ‘No, that would be naughty and also against the law, sadly.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Well, I will see you later. It seems I am needed.’

  Holly turned her head and discovered Alma waving at him.

  No booze anywhere. Seems a bit overly strict, Holly thought. Right now a drink would have been perfect. She finished the cocoa, then dropped the cup in the bin, together with the cup of gløgg. It’s not an attractive name, she thought. Whenever she tried to say it out aloud, it sounded more like “gluggs”, like something you pulled out of a swamp.

  The music from the loudspeakers stopped and everyone looked at the Christmas tree. The little choir had assembled in some semblance of order in front of it.

  Holly leaned on the counter, smiling when Anja waved at her.

  Then she was busy with more customers and had to concentrate.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tor hesitated before approaching Holly again. He heard the kids singing – out of tune, but their enthusiasm made up for it.

  He could still turn around and leave.

  The clapping started and he got startled. Make a decision, idiot, he scolded himself.

  Holly had already seen him. If he didn’t go to her now, she would likely never speak to him again.

  And suddenly that became important to him.

  He squared his shoulders and headed towards Holly’s stall before he gave himself another reason to go home. He stopped in front of the stall and pretended to look at the jars of marmalade while Holly talked to a woman.

  She didn’t look at him, and so he could study her. She looked happy and a bit flushed. Her hands waved a bit and she was smiling and laughing.

  Tor almost dropped the jar he was holding when she turned towards him. She did not look happy now. ‘Did you change your mind?’

  ‘Uhm, sorry?’ Tor wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

  ‘I saw you, I even waved at you, and then you ran off,’ she said.

  ‘Ah, that. No, that was something else. Here. I got you these,’ he said and handed her what he had bought.

  Holly frowned, but she took the present. The seller had no more Christmas wrapping left, so she had put them in a small brown paper bag.

  ‘Why on earth would you… Oh.’ Holly held up the gloves he had bought. They were brightly striped, in several colours, but most importantly, they were fingerless.

  ‘I hope they fit. I saw that you kept blowing on your hands. These will keep your hands warmer. Or at least warmish,’ he added quickly.

  A huge beam of a smile almost had him backing away for the third time.

  Holly quickly pulled the gloves on and wriggled her fingers. ‘They are lovely, Tor. I love them. Thank you. I can’t believe you bought these for me.’

  Tor wasn’t sure what to say. Or do. He wondered if he should give her the troll too, but had no idea how to do it without making it really awkward.

  Holly pointed at the goods she was selling. ‘Do you like marmalade? On me, of course. I mean, not on me, you know, but as a thank you gift.’

  Tor had a sudden vision of Holly covered in marmalade. He cleared his voice. ‘For what?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? You’ve saved me on more than one occasion now,’ she said. ‘This is a lifesaver too.’

  ‘A jar of marmalade for a life? Seems like a fair exchange,’ he said, only to see her beam at him again.

  ‘You better believe it. This is my brother’s homemade marmalade with lemons and Seville bitter oranges – all organic – and if Jack is to believed, it was bloody hard to get hold of them.’ Holly spoke so fast, she almost didn’t breathe. ‘He said they don’t know what bitter oranges are here.’

  ‘I’ve never tasted bitter oranges,’ he said.

  ‘Try it.’ Holly took a teaspoon and dipped it into an open glass. She put the dollop on a small cracker and handed to him. ‘Here.’

  Tor put the cracker in his mouth and chewed slowly. The smell of orange was intense. It was good. Bitter and sweet at the same time, and with a strong taste of citrus. ‘This is delicious,’ he said.

  Holly looked pleased. ‘It’s Jack’s own recipe. He loves the stuff.’

  ‘And you don’t?’ Tor smiled at her.

  She seemed taken aback by that. ‘Uhm, I don’t hate it, I’m just more of a cherry jam person.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ Tor looked at the pyramid of different glasses she had made, which sat alongside homemade biscuits. ‘What else is good here?’

  ‘Probably everything. Jack is very good at what he does. It turns out that people love homemade mustard and marmalade. Not together, I’m guessing.’

  Tor wracked his mind to find something more he could say, something that didn’t make him feel as if he was fifteen again and had a major crush on a girl. Don’t even go there, he warned himself.

  ‘The mustard probably goes well with gravlaks,’ he said, and almost groaned.

  ‘With what? Is that like smoked laks?’ Holly handed a jar of mustard to another customer.

  ‘No, different processes. You don’t smoke gravlaks, you cure it. It’s good, though. With mustard sauce,’ Tor said, knowing he was babbling.

  ‘I like cured salmon,’ Holly said, pulling her hat over her ears.

  ‘Someone is probably selling it here,’ he said, nodding at the other stalls, all teeming with eager customers.

  ‘I’ll ask Alma for a taste.’ Holly handed a box of biscuits to a man who looked well pleased with it.

  ‘You don’t have to. I make my own,’ Tor said before he managed to stop himself. ‘I mean, gravlaks for Christmas is an absolute necessity, and my grandfather taught me how to make it.’

  Holly cocked her head, smiling at him. ‘Are you inviting me for a gravlaks taste?’

  ‘I might,’ he said, in a defensive voice.

  ‘And what if I don’t like mustard?’

  ‘Not obligatory. You can have it without the sauce.’

  Holly laughed. He liked to see her laugh.

  ‘Fine. What more will you be serving at your feast?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, and I have to warn you I’m not much of a chef. I mean, gravlaks is as advanced as it gets.’

  ‘Maybe we can do a potluck thing. I can bring something too. God knows Jack has made enough food to last a lifetime.’

  He was enjoying himself now. ‘No, you don’t have to bring anything. We can discover what kind of Norwegian food you like or dislike.’

  ‘You’re going to feed me weird food? Like scorched sheep’s head? Yes, Jack told me about that.’ Holly shuddered at the thought. ‘Danny keeps trying to convince me to eat it. I think he has a bet with Dad.’

  ‘I’m not insane. No sheep’s heads for me.’ He shook his head with emphasis. ‘I don’t like my food looking back at me.’

  ‘Good to know.’ Holly served another costumer. Jars of marmalade and mustard disappeared and Tor waited patiently while she worked. From where he was standing he could see that the market was fading.

  ‘How long does this thing last?’ he said.

  ‘I had hoped it would be over by now, to be honest. My feet are killing me and it’s been a long day already. But we’re all returning home on the last ferry, so even if the market stays open longer, we’re not.’

  Holly stretched her neck and looked around. ‘One of the others was supposed to help me, but I think she’s disappeared. Damn it, I could really use a trip to the b
athroom.’

  ‘You need a break? Let me help.’

  Holly smiled. ‘Really? You don’t have to. I’m guessing you came here to do some shopping, taste some beer or whatever is here. Not to be used as free help.’

  ‘I came to see you,’ he said and then regretted his words at once. Keep your cool, he thought and made an attempt to say something that made sense. ‘I mean, you did send me that note with Frøy. It would have been rude not to come, you know.’

  She was laughing now. ‘I see. Well, do you mind stepping inside the stall for a moment? There’s a door at the back.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Tor walked around and Holly let him in.

  ‘I have a price list.’ Holly showed him a piece of paper. ‘All you have to do is follow it.’

  She smiled at him and for a horrifying moment he thought she might hug him. He had no idea how to react to that.

  She didn’t. Instead she pointed at a Christmas tin under the counter. ‘The cash is in there. And there’s also the card reader thingy. Took me a while to figure that out.’

  ‘I have been known to handle small machinery,’ he said, taking it away from her. ‘Architecture isn’t always about building skyscrapers, you know.’

  ‘Brilliant. I’ll just find the loo and be right back, I promise. Please don’t drop anything.’

  Tor watched her leave, then a customer approached him. One dressed in a festive hat and a nose that was a bit more red than it should be.

  Holly found the toilets without any difficulty. Portable toilets weren’t exactly the best things in the world, but when she had to go, she had to go.

  When she got out, rubbing her hands with the wipes provided, she bumped into Britt.

  ‘I was wondering where you were off to,’ she said with a huge smile.

  ‘Call of nature,’ Holly said.

  Britt looked at her with perfect innocence. ‘I just saw Sigrid with the kids, so who’s watching your stall?’

  Holly looked at her for a second, then rolled her eyes.

  ‘Oh, please. You know Tor is there, helping me out.’

  Britt shrugged. ‘I may have spotted him. Did you ask him to come?’

 

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