The Day She Came Back(76)

‘Yep, bye, Vidar!’

No sooner had they watched Vidar run down the stairs than the door opened and a tall man wearing jeans, a white shirt and with stockinged feet stood in front of her. He had short, fair hair and a wide smile, which showed off his large, neat teeth. He shook his head and briefly placed his hand over his mouth, his eyes misted with emotion. This, she had not expected. Her concerns over any potential lack of welcome disappeared.

‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’ He exhaled deeply. ‘I’m Jens, and I don’t need to ask who you are! I could have picked you out in any crowd!’ he managed eventually, with laughter in his voice. He did something then that neither she nor Sarah had so far been able to do when he stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. ‘Oh my goodness, Victoria.’ She was glad he got her name right. He set her free and stood back to stare at her, which was more than a little disconcerting. ‘It is incredible and wonderful just how much you look like Sarah! You must be able to see it?’ he asked with kindly enthusiasm.

‘A little bit, I guess.’ She glanced at Sarah and then back at him.

‘Oh my God!’ Again the hand over the mouth. ‘You even have the same facial expressions!’ He clapped. ‘Wonderful, just wonderful! Come on, let’s go sit somewhere comfortable and you can tell me all about it.’

‘Tell you all about what?’ She was a little confused.

‘Your life! Your whole life! Everything!’

She followed the man through to the open-plan lounge/dining area, which was tastefully modern with the addition of tapestry cushions and faux fur rugs to soften all the hard edges. It was different to Rosebank in every possible way. It was also lovely and warm, homely, and not only because of the furnishings but because Jens made it feel that way. It seemed so neat and perfect; she wondered how a girl like her, a stranger to all intents and purposes, would fit without being intrusive.

‘My whole life?’ She drew breath. ‘It might take a while.’

‘Skal jeg f? litt vin,’ Sarah breathed.

Jens nodded at his wife. Victoria wondered what had been said and her eyebrows rose involuntarily.

‘Sorry, we were just asking about wine,’ he explained.

It was her turn to nod.

‘Now.’ Jens beamed at her and folded his tall frame into a chair, removing the cushion and gripping it to his chest. ‘It doesn’t matter how long it takes, we have all the time in the world.’

‘And I thought I was only here for the weekend.’

‘Ah! You might never want to leave.’ He beamed.

‘Well, I don’t know about that.’ She thought of how, over the last eighteen years, she would have loved to receive an invite like this.

‘I have read letters that Sarah wrote to your erm . . . bestemor – what’s the word in English?’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Grandmother! And oh! Wow! I feel so close to you, even though I have never met you because I know what you went through at the very beginning. Your mother is a remarkable person. Your grandmother too.’ He looked over at Sarah, his eyes drinking her in, as if they were still a new couple. She felt a little embarrassed, unused to this. She barely remembered interactions between Prim and Grandpa, and with her gran and Gerald things had always seemed quite proper.

‘Well, you are a few steps ahead of me.’ She meant that she had yet to read all of the letters, but it sounded very much like she was yet to find something remarkable about Sarah. She looked over to the kitchen island, where Sarah, with both hands on the countertop, looked a little aghast. Victoria felt her stomach sink. This trip was going to be a little harder than any of them might have thought.





TWELVE

There was a brief moment when Victoria opened her eyes that she didn’t know where she was, but the sound of Jens and Sarah chatting in the kitchen anchored her to the place and time. Pulling the fat duvet up to her chin in the small, white-walled bedroom which, judging by the desk and bookshelves, doubled as a study, she lay still, taking in the sounds that, to most, would have seemed quite unremarkable, annoying even if they had woken you from the deepest sleep, but for Victoria they were like music, a composition just for her. She listened to Sarah open and close cupboard doors, click switches, clatter crockery, and the metallic rattle of items ferreted from the dishwasher. She heard her hum and laugh softly, cough twice and chat in both English and Norwegian to her love. These were the sounds that countless people woke to every day of their lives, the sound of family, but for her it was the first time she had slept under the same roof as her mother, the first time she had lain in a bed with her mother on the other side of the door. It was an experience that was both mournful and joyous. Her thoughts flew to Prim, who would call up the stairs:

‘Morning, sweetie! Breakfast is ready . . .’

‘Your bus leaves in twenty!’

‘Don’t forget your PE kit!’

‘Chop chop, Victoria, you are going to be late!’

She wondered if Sarah had lain in her turret bedroom and heard the same from Prim decades earlier; she felt the dull ache of missing her gran in her stomach and wondered if it would ever fade, despite now seeing her gran with the veil of deceit lifted.

Victoria reached for her phone on the desk and fired off a quick text to Daksha.

Morning! Arrived. Obvs. So far so good, bit odd, bit awkward, but a nice apartment and Jens seems great. A day of sightseeing, yay! (Just to clarify – this is a genuine yay and not a sarcastic one.) Hope you and Ananya are having a good time and haven’t burnt the house down (bad) or had a party (worse) – right, loving you and leaving you. Speak later. V Xx