The Day She Came Back(69)
She felt conflicted by the thoughts that bubbled to the surface, still trying to get her head around the basic and yet almost incomprehensible fact that someone she had believed to be dead was in fact alive and that she had been fed this lie by her own family, while a small part of her wanted to rejoice!
My mum . . . that’s my mum . . . right there, not dead, not at all. Here she is!
Sarah lifted her joined palms under her chin, as if subconsciously offering thanks, and watched intently as she walked towards her. Victoria stared at her, capturing her profile, the curve of her neck, the shape of her nose, building her in her mind, storing her away piece by piece. Will I look like you when I’m older? Did Prim look like you when she was younger? You are it, Sarah . . . the missing link.
‘Here you are!’
Victoria watched as Sarah stretched out her hand, placing it lightly on her forearm, as if this was the closest to a hug she figured she was allowed, whilst at the same time confirming she was real. Victoria had on countless occasions wished to feel her mother’s touch and had certainly missed the feel of Prim taking her in her arms. Yet, in that moment, she felt unable to react, stifled by all she didn’t know, still hungry to understand how her mum could have let her go, and with a throb of loss and longing beating out its rhythm in her chest.
‘Here I am,’ Victoria confirmed.
‘You look absolutely wonderful!’ Sarah beamed.
‘Thanks.’
‘Can I take your bag?’ Sarah eyed the large carpetbag on her shoulder. Victoria resisted the desire to point out that the offer of a bag-carry, a pair of warm gloves, a bedtime story or a piggyback across a puddle were almost a couple of decades too late.
‘I’ve got it, thanks, I can manage.’
‘Of course.’ Sarah fidgeted, smoothing her hair, nervous. ‘How was your journey?’
‘Easy.’ The banality of their conversation as they walked slowly across the concourse gave no clue to the unique and mind-blowing, nerve-shredding situation in which they found themselves.
‘I thought we could get the train, if that’s okay with you? The terminal is right here in the airport.’ Sarah pointed ahead and Victoria could see the up and down escalators in the distance and the sign: Gardermoen Stasjon. ‘Then we can chat and you can see a bit of the countryside – what do you think? Jens wanted to drive, but I thought this might be nicer.’
Victoria could tell she was nervous too and felt a flicker of understanding. Thinking for the first time how it might be just as hard for Sarah to come back from the dead as it was for her to accept it.
‘I think whatever you think. This is your city. Do you live in Oslo itself?’
‘Yes, we’re very lucky. We have one of the new apartments on the edge of the fjord in Aker Brygge. It’s a whole new development of warehouses and restaurants on the waterfront and we are right where the ferries come in and out, taking commuters and tourists out to the inner fjord islands like Hoved?ya and Gressholmen. It’s beautiful. The apartment is small, but what more do we need? In the warm weather we are out and about and when it’s cold it’s less to heat.’
Sarah’s Norwegian accent was impressive. And Victoria was pleased to note that her extreme excitement, which could at times feel a bit like hysteria, seemed to be a little more under control now: her voice a little calmer, cheeks less flushed and her hands still.
‘So, do you speak Norwegian?’ she asked, realising in that moment how utterly crazy it was that this woman had given birth to her, was her mother and yet Victoria didn’t know the first thing about her now: what languages did she speak? Did she play sport? How did she vote? Did she prefer tea or coffee?
‘Ja, litt.’ Sarah nodded.
Victoria smiled at the brief and easy moment of connection, finding it reassuring. ‘It’s nice to have a small apartment, cosy. I think Rosebank is too big, really. A lot to heat in all weathers. Prim used to like real fires in the drawing room.’
‘She did.’ Sarah nodded. ‘The fireplace in the dining room never worked. I think someone said Grandpa put a board halfway across the chimney somewhere and no one was sure how to get it out. I don’t think anyone was sure how he got it in!’ She gave a nervous, dry laugh, reminding Victoria of someone who had been told off and wasn’t sure it was appropriate to laugh. It made her feel awkward. She didn’t want Sarah to feel that way, preferring the ease of earlier.
‘Exactly.’ She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to this woman, a stranger coming in with snippets and shared facts about her home, her family, already known to Victoria. It made her feel conflicted; it brought a joyous flare of shared intimacy, but at the same time it was odd. ‘But I don’t know why we need all that space – don’t know why I need all that space,’ she corrected.
‘You think you might sell it?’ Sarah asked casually, as if it were of no consequence to her either way. Victoria kept her voice steady, remembering both the vicar and Gerald’s warning that she was potentially, as ‘a woman of means’, a target.
‘I literally find it hard to think till the end of a day, let alone any further ahead than that.’ She shrugged. ‘I think I just need to let everything settle. As Gerald said, I’ve been through a lot.’
The way Sarah’s face fell again suggested this felt like a personal dig. She didn’t assuage her.