The Day She Came Back(82)

‘So, Vic-taw-ree-aaah,’ he enunciated, speaking neither in statement nor question, but rather as a forerunner of more words to follow, as if they were already familiar to each other and not the strangers that they were. ‘I was just going to say: Jens and Sarah are great people.’

‘Yes.’ She bit her lip, aware that this was straying into awkward territory and that this boy from across the hallway had probably spent more time with and exchanged more words with the woman who had given birth to her than she had. It was a sobering thought. ‘Yes, they do seem great.’

‘Oh, so you don’t know them that well?’ She saw his perplexed expression.

‘Well, I do and I don’t. It’s complicated.’ She looked out over the water. ‘But it’s been good. Oslo is such a great city. I’ve loved it. The parks, the sculpture – everything,’ she babbled, changing the subject to spare having to give the detail she felt unready to share.

‘It is.’ He smiled dryly and seemed to take the hint. ‘And where’s home for you?’

‘London. Well, I say London, because most people know that and not Surrey. But, Surrey. Home is Epsom in Surrey.’ She coughed, knowing she sounded about as flustered as she felt and hoping that her foreign tongue might have disguised it slightly.

‘Where the racecourse is? Home of the Epsom Derby!’

‘Yes. Have you been?’ She warmed to him even more, thinking there might be a link to her hometown.

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘But I know that in 1913 it was where Emily Davison died for the cause of the suffragettes, isn’t that right? There’s still debate, I think, over whether she jumped in front of a horse or simply had a terrible accident trying to grab its reins. Either way, she was a martyr to her cause and will always be remembered for it.’

‘Yes, I think so.’ She felt a little embarrassed that he knew detail she was lacking. ‘I’m more of a maths fan than a history buff.’

‘And in England you are only allowed to pick one?’ He laughed.

‘So you like history?’ she deflected.

‘I do, and maths.’ He shifted in the seat and stretched out his legs once again. She pulled the freed blanket into her lap, liking his height and his easy manner.

‘Well, there we go. You are clearly a better scholar than me, or just smarter. You are certainly taller,’ she added, stretching out her own legs.

‘I am taller.’ He nodded. ‘But I haven’t been a scholar for a while. I graduated last year.’

‘In what?’ She was curious.

‘Maths, history and tallness.’

She laughed loudly. He was smart. Smart and funny. She thought of Flynn, with a flash of indifference.

‘So, what do you do now with all that cleverness and height?’

‘I’m a web designer.’

‘For spiders?’ She matched his humour.

‘Yes. Mainly for spiders, but also for silkworms and then, in the off-season, I switch to cocoons – not as pretty, but the money is good.’

‘Nice.’ She smiled at him, not in the least bit awkward for holding his gaze and no longer concerned about the blush that spread from her cheeks to her chest. She pointed towards the balcony. ‘I am not supposed to know, but I have a terrible feeling they are planning a mini party, for my birthday.’

‘Ah, happy birthday! Gratulerer med dagen!’

‘Thank you, I think . . . but actually, it’s all a bit premature. It’s not my birthday for another couple of weeks, but obviously, I’ll be back in Surrey by then.’

‘Obviously.’ He smiled at her, and she liked the way his mouth curved over his teeth and his eyes lifted at the corners. ‘So, a party sounds good.’ He put his coffee cup on the floor and his hands under his arms. She tried to figure out whether he thought he might be invited, which he most definitely was not! The thought of having to navigate an evening with three strangers who all knew each other was, she figured, more than she could handle.

‘Oh, it’s not really a party, just the three of us and a piece of cake, I expect – not a party party. Although I did have a party: a big one, quite recently. I hadn’t planned on it, but it kind of happened and it all ended horribly.’ She closed her eyes and breathed quickly at the memory. ‘I had to call in a man with a gun and he threw everyone out and I had to leave the area for a bit. As I say, all horrible.’

‘Are you a gangster?’ he asked, his smile now a little more fixed.

She laughed loudly. ‘A gangster? What? Oh! Oh, the gun thing, no.’ She tutted, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. ‘That was just Gerald with a pistol.’ She giggled. ‘To be honest, he’s more used to wielding secateurs. He looks after the orchids and tomato plants for me.’ This time, she was fully aware of her babbling and laughed at her giddiness.

‘You are different and interesting, Victoria,’ he surmised, and firecrackers of happiness exploded in her stomach.

‘Thank you.’ She meant it. ‘And so are you, Vidar. What does Vidar mean?’ She was curious.

‘Vidar was the son of Odin, a god.’

‘Wow! More of that history stuff.’

‘Technically it’s mythology, not history. And for the record, I wouldn’t want to come to your party, even if I was invited. Either the mini one with cake upstairs or the one with the pistol-toting Gerald.’