The Day She Came Back(81)

‘You want to get coffee and sit on the bench?’

‘Sure, bench-sitting sounds good.’ She fell into step beside him, liking his sweet nature and the silences between them that didn’t feel at all stilted or like she needed to fill them with idle banter. They walked to the food truck selling waffles and coffee further along the quayside and, each with a warm cup in their palms, made their way to the bench at the top of the stairs in front of the apartment block.

‘Sometimes I just like to sit on a bench and watch the world go by.’ He stretched out his long legs in front of him. ‘Your weekend has been good so far?’

‘Mm.’ She nodded, taking a mouthful of good, hot coffee. ‘How was your bike ride?’

‘Oh, good, yes. I was going to see my mom. She lives in Grünerl?kka.’

She nodded like she might know where this was.

‘I pop in on a Saturday morning and we have breakfast.’

‘That’s nice.’ She meant it, liking the ordinariness of his routine and the fact that he was happy to share it. It was interesting to her how other people spent time with their mothers.

‘If I don’t make it a regular appointment, time runs away with me, you know?’

‘I do.’ She thought of how time had slipped by since she had lost Prim; the day she’d found her in the chair felt simultaneously like days and months ago.

‘So you’ve had a good weekend?’

She turned to face him on the bench, the pretence being to better consider his question, but in reality she wanted the chance to study him. His straight hair was naturally fair and his features strong. He smiled at her, as if taking the exact same opportunity to study her and her heart did a little rumba.

‘Yes, it’s been busy, you know, but good, cramming it all in.’

‘So what have you seen?’ He rested his elbows on his raised knees and she inhaled the vanilla scent of his aftershave.

‘Oh, the cathedral, the royal palace, the opera house, Vigeland Park and I think just about every café within a ten-mile radius.’

He laughed, an easy, natural laugh, and she liked that he didn’t need to fill the air with an immediate response, happy to just be . . . it made her relax.

‘Did you get out to Ekebergparken?’

She shook her head.

‘It’s the best. You can get a tram from right here or you can drive around, of course, but that’s not as much fun.’

‘Well, no, why would anyone choose car over tram?’

‘Exactly! Who would do that?’ He smiled. ‘It’s a beautiful park, there’s sculpture too, and good hiking – I have a favourite bench over there in the graveyard. It sounds weird, but it’s beautiful. Death doesn’t scare me. My dad died a couple of years ago.’

‘Mine died too,’ she whispered. ‘When I was a baby. And then my gran, quite recently.’

‘It sucks.’ He stared out across the fjord.

‘It does.’ She liked how he didn’t feel the need to give her advice or match her story or talk about feelings, just the simple statement of the truth, because yes, it did suck.

‘Ekeberg has the best view of Oslo. You know how you can only really appreciate something when you are looking back at it, the whole picture from above, and when you’re not in it.’ He made a downward motion with his hands and she thought of Prim, wondering if she was now able to look back from above with the whole view, and what she might now think of the choices she made. She thought of the letter she had read earlier that day. The words burned into her mind and were just as powerful now in reflection.

If I could take your sadness from you and wear it like a cloak for eternity, I would.

I only want for you to be happy, and I want this little baby to be happy. You are both my flesh and blood.

That’s all you wanted, isn’t it, Prim? For us to be happy . . . for me to be safe . . .

‘Yes, Ekeberg is special, and the only way to see the city, in my opinion.’

‘I would like to see it.’

‘Well, I would like to take you there.’

‘Oh! Really?’ The unexpected invitation made her gut leap with joy.

‘Yes. If you are ever at a loose end in Oslo, just knock on my door. You know where I live, right?’

‘I do.’ She laughed, but it was a different laugh, a happy laugh, and not in the least bit doll-like and dumb.

‘Victoria!’ Jens yelled over the balcony, and she looked up. ‘Five minutes! Are you warm enough?’ he hollered, his hands either side of his mouth, as if she were much, much further away.

She nodded and waved her hand over her head, embarrassed to have had her name broadcast loudly over Aker Brygge and even more embarrassed that Vidar seemed to be enjoying the spectacle.

‘Hang on!’ Jens called, and despite her avowal to the contrary, he dangled a mustard-coloured wool blanket over the edge of the balcony, which he dropped when the coast was clear, watching it crumple on the cobbles of the pavement. Vidar jumped up to retrieve it. Victoria was a little bit delighted that Jens cared enough about her welfare to drop the blanket, delighted that Vidar had fetched it for her and grateful to slip it over her legs, realising in that moment that the air had indeed turned a little chilly. Vidar sat down hard, capturing the corner of her blanket under his bottom, not that she mentioned this.