‘Your home is lovely,’ Jonas said as Frankie pulled the heavy door closed behind her.
‘That old place.’ Frankie giggled. ‘I grew up there and I suppose I forget how nice it is sometimes. Although…’ She paused, not wanting to sound ungrateful.
‘What?’
‘Well, it’s not particularly cosy, is it?’
‘It’s big.’
‘Exactly. I’ve always pictured myself living in a cosy log cabin or a barn conversion out in the countryside. Perhaps it’s me being ungrateful or silly but I sometimes find the house a bit… well, I feel… a bit lost.’
‘I can understand that.’
Frankie pulled her hat down to keep her ears warm and tucked her hands deep into her pockets. The late November day was cold and bright as the wind rushed through the London streets, the grey clouds from earlier now blown away.
‘When I was younger… a lot younger… I used to create a den in my walk-in wardrobe. I’d put up blankets and take pillows and my stuffed animals in there just to feel more secure.’
Jonas watched her intently, his blue eyes seeming to reach down into her soul. She imagined that he could see her as she was then, at six years old, a small girl with her long brown hair in plaits, her pink teddy bear clutched under her arm and her tiny feet in fluffy slippers, as she crept into her wardrobe and snuggled in the corner. It certainly hadn’t been like the adverts she’d seen on TV where children ran into their parents’ rooms after they’d had a bad dream and jumped into their bed before falling fast asleep. For Frankie, there had been no night-time cuddles, no words of reassurance. She’d been left to her own devices, hiding herself away from the darkness and the creaking of the old house as it settled throughout the night, comforting herself with toys and dreams of a mother who was out there somewhere thinking of her too.
‘Are you OK, Frankie?’ Jonas asked.
She nodded. ‘Just got sidetracked thinking about my childhood for a moment there. Come on, let’s take a walk.’
They strolled along, through streets that were familiar to Frankie yet strange to Jonas. She pointed out the places where she’d played, drunk wine taken from her father’s cellar and tried a cigarette. She didn’t show him the corner of the immaculate communal gardens belonging to the inhabitants of Royal Crescent Gardens, where she’d had her first kiss, or the garage she’d crept into to throw up after the wine she’d taken had made her head spin. There were some things worth sharing and some best forgotten. Jonas snapped constantly, clearly spotting plenty of sights worth capturing on his camera. Frankie didn’t even need to point things out to him because his eye for detail was instinctive.
‘Your nose is red.’ Jonas smiled at her as they stopped at a crossroads.
‘It’s really cold.’
‘I’m surprised, actually. I didn’t expect it to be so cold here.’
‘Do you fancy a coffee?’ Frankie pointed at a small pub on the corner.
‘Good idea.’
As they opened the pub door, the warmth from inside greeted them like a hug and Frankie sighed with relief. She hadn’t wanted to cut their walk short, as Jonas had been interested in his surroundings, but the cold had been making her eyes water and her nose run. Neither of which were pleasant, or her best look. Not that what she looked like mattered right now; she was merely showing an acquaintance around London, but even so, she didn’t want his memories of his guide to be of a red-nosed block of ice.
They sat in a corner booth opposite the log burner where logs crackled and the flames glowed orange. It was cosy and intimate, and Frankie became fully aware that they were alone. They browsed the drinks menu and Frankie snatched a few glances at Jonas. He really was very handsome and so big, filling the booth with his large frame and his quiet confidence.
He would make someone a good boyfriend…
She shook her head. Where had that thought sprung from? The last thing Frankie wanted was to tie herself down to another man.
A waitress arrived at their table and took their drinks order. Frankie asked her to add two of the pub’s mince pies to it, as they were the best she’d ever tasted.
‘Do you come here often?’ Jonas asked.
‘To this pub?’
He nodded.
‘No, not that often. I’ve been in here a few times, but in all honesty, I don’t spend a lot of time in pubs and clubs.’ She looked around. ‘I’m not sure why I haven’t come here more often though. It is very pleasant.’
‘It’s very cosy.’ He smiled and his eyes crinkled at the corners.
When the waitress returned with their coffees and mince pies, Frankie noticed her eyes lingering on Jonas. She wasn’t surprised, but did think it was a bit rude, as he could well be Frankie’s partner.
‘I’m sorry to ask but…’ the waitress chewed her bottom lip, ‘I don’t want to be rude, but see, behind the bar, we were debating whether you’re an actor.’
‘An actor?’ Jonas’s eyebrows rose.
‘Yes. I promise we won’t hassle you or anything… the manager would kill us… but you look so familiar.’
‘I do?’ A smile played on Jonas’s lips and he winked at Frankie. ‘Who do you think I am?’
The waitress’s cheeks had turned scarlet now and she glanced at the floor before meeting his eyes again. ‘Chris Hemsworth.’
Jonas let out a deep booming laugh that made the waitress jump.
‘Thor?’
‘Yes.’
He nodded. ‘You think I look like him?’
‘Well… yes.’
‘I’ll take that.’ He rubbed a hand over his golden beard.
‘So… are you?’
He shook his head, his shoulders still shaking with laughter.
‘No, I’m not Chris Hemsworth.’
‘Oh…’
‘But thanks for the compliment.’
‘It’s OK.’ The waitress turned to go then paused. ‘Are you sure? Because you look an awful lot like him.’
‘I’m positive.’ He nodded.
‘Right… OK… sorry to have troubled you.’
‘Perhaps Hollywood beckons?’ He directed the question at Frankie but the waitress turned around again.
‘Oh definitely. You should go into acting.’ She glanced at Frankie. ‘Sorry… I didn’t mean to sound like I was hitting on your boyfriend or anything. I was just settling a bet with my colleagues.’ She nodded at the bar where two men and a woman were staring at them.
‘It’s OK. He’s not—’
‘She doesn’t mind, do you?’ Jonas took Frankie’s hand and squeezed it. ‘We get this quite a lot.’
‘We do?’ Frankie watched his face.
‘Yes, angel.’ He raised her hand and kissed it.
‘Enjoy your coffees.’ The waitress smiled then scurried away.
‘Angel?’
Jonas laughed. ‘I was just playing along. It was easier to let her think we’re together.’
‘It was?’
‘Yeah, why not?’
She shrugged, sensing there was more to this than Jonas was letting on but not wanting to go any deeper into it right now.
‘Have you ever tried a mince pie before?’
He shook his head. ‘Freya has offered them but I don’t know… I never fancied one.’
‘Try it now. They’re delicious.’
She watched as he dug his fork into the crumbly buttery shortcrust pastry then scooped some of the brandy butter up on the edge of the fork. The mince pie was gone in three bites.
‘You liked it then?’
‘Delicious.’
‘I’ve always enjoyed them. We used to have them at boarding school in December and it meant that I’d soon be heading home for the holidays. Every year I’d make a wish on the first one I ate.’
‘What did you wish for?’
She sighed. ‘Can’t you guess?’
‘Uh… toys or expensive gifts? New shoes or a laptop? A horse?’
‘No.’ She shook her head, sad that Jonas seemed to think she might be that materialistic. But then, didn’t most children wish for the things he’d named at Christmas? ‘I wished that my mother would come home.’
He held her gaze then, his eyes clear and kind. ‘Of course. I’m sorry. I understand because even though I had my mother and grandparents around, I used to wish that my father could come home too. But that was impossible because he died when I was very young.’
‘I’m sorry. It’s hard growing up without one of your parents.’ Frankie nodded, strangely comforted by knowing that another human being understood how she felt. Even though Jonas’s circumstances were different, he’d still lost a parent so he knew how that left an empty space.
They drank their coffees then ordered more and Frankie began to relax. Jonas was so easy to be with and unlike when she’d been with her peers, she didn’t feel judged or as though she had to act a certain way to impress him. They chatted easily about London and Norway, what they felt was similar and different, and he talked about her mother and how kind she was to everyone she knew. Frankie was hungry to hear more about Freya, so she listened attentively as he told her about how Freya supported local charities and anyone she knew who was in need.
The woman he spoke about was nothing like the woman her grandmother had described, and not for the first time Frankie questioned her grandmother’s motives in painting Freya the way she had done.
Jonas finished his second coffee then placed the cup in the saucer. He was having a great time with Frankie and found her company refreshing. There was more to her than an upper-class socialite from London’s aristocracy. She spoke very well, pronouncing words like a news reporter on the BBC, just as they’d tried to teach him and his classmates to do back in school, but on her it seemed natural. Cute even. He liked to listen to her and could have sat there and done so all day. He also liked looking at her, she was beautiful and every day she seemed to grow more beautiful, as though having Freya in her life was healing her from the inside out. Nothing could come of their acquaintance but he would enjoy being with her while he was in London.
When Frankie excused herself to go to the toilet, he felt someone watching him. He looked up to find the waitress who’d served them their coffees and the other woman behind the bar gazing at him. He looked away quickly, not wanting to acknowledge their attention. What was it with them? He’d told them he wasn’t that famous actor and that he was with Frankie.
He’d actually felt quite uncomfortable when the waitress had been questioning him, even though he’d tried to hide it behind laughter. He’d been mistaken for Chris Hemsworth in the past, and he did find it amusing, but he didn’t enjoy the attention that often came with it. Jonas didn’t want to pose for selfies with strangers, or to make polite conversation with the drunken female tourists who sometimes accosted him in his homeland; he was a private person with a small group of close friends and he didn’t want any fuss. So, even though he hadn’t said as much, the idea of being famous was one of the worst things he could imagine. Why anyone would want the media, hell, the whole world, watching their every move, he had no idea. He hadn’t really got into the whole social media thing and had a Facebook account but that was kept private and mainly used to stay in contact with fellow photographers, clients and friends. He never accepted friend requests from strangers, and the message requests he always denied often made him blush with their proclamations of love as well as the dirty things that the women and men who sent them told him they’d like to do to him. And all because they mistook him for a famous actor.
He’d also laughed off the waitress’s questions because he didn’t want Frankie to think he was hostile or unfriendly. Laughing was one way he dealt with embarrassing situations. And, of course, telling the waitress he was with Frankie had two motives: he wanted the woman to go away, and he’d seen something flash across Frankie’s face when the waitress had interrupted them, something he thought might have been hurt or irritation. He didn’t know her well enough to read her properly. But it had been instinctive for him to say that she was his girlfriend. In fact, he had been quite proud to do so. Even though it had no roots in the truth…
Frankie returned to their table and sat down just as ‘White Christmas’ started to drift from the speakers.
‘Do you ever have a white Christmas here?’ he asked her.
‘Sometimes. Although it’s nothing like you get in Norway. Snow causes utter panic in the UK. We’re just not equipped to deal with it like you Norwegians.’
‘I love the snow.’
‘I do too. I’d love to spend a winter in a snowy climate, to know that every day I’d get up and find a flawless white landscape just beyond my window.’
‘You should come back to Oslo with Freya and me.’
She met his eyes.
‘That would be lovely, but I don’t know what’s going to happen yet. I need to visit my grandmother in the hospital and to see how she does over the next few days.’
‘Of course.’
‘How long will you stay in London?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure yet. It kind of depends on Freya but obviously we will… or at least I will need to get back to the gallery.’
Frankie nodded, causing her brown hair to slide forwards. Without thinking, Jonas reached out and tucked it behind her ears then gently cupped her face. His heart pounded, making blood rush through his ears. The sounds of the pub, the music and the conversations of other people faded away and it seemed that they were the only two people in the world.
‘Frankie, I—’
She gasped then pulled back slightly and he dropped his hands. What the hell was he doing? Had he gone completely mad? This hadn’t been planned. He hadn’t even thought about it. Not in any detail anyway.
‘Jonas…’ She frowned.
‘Sorry.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘I don’t know what happened then.’
Frankie appeared to be dazed.
‘Excuse me for a moment.’ He got up and made his way to the toilets where he ran the cold water over his hands and splashed it over his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, took in his flushed cheeks and wide eyes, and it confirmed what he already suspected. He was, for reasons beyond his own comprehension, very taken with Frankie Ashford. She was beautiful and sweet, easy to talk to and he felt comfortable with her, that he could be himself, but there was more to her than that. Jonas rarely felt a connection to anyone, other than some of his close friends, Freya, and his mother. And now he seemed to be developing a connection with Frankie.
But he had no idea if she felt the same.
It was a new situation for him and he wasn’t sure if he liked it, because it made him feel vulnerable. It was also hard to admit this to himself, especially after he’d internally reiterated the fact that they were too different to ever be anything other than friends. His mother had always told him that the heart wants what it wants, and therefore it often refuses to listen to reason. He’d repeatedly teased her for being a romantic, but now he was starting to wonder if she had a point.
When he returned to the booth, Frankie was buttoning her coat.
‘Are we going back to the house?’
‘Yes, it’s probably best if we do. Dad might have news about Grandma and much as I’d like to sit here all afternoon, I probably need to get a few things sorted.’
He nodded and pulled on his own coat.
Frankie sighed then sank onto a chair. ‘Jonas, there’s something I haven’t told you. My life and my emotions are rather complicated right now.’
‘You don’t have to tell me anything, Frankie.’
‘Sit down for a moment.’ She patted the seat next to her. ‘Please.’
He sat down and watched her face carefully.
‘Jonas, I came to Norway to find Freya but it wasn’t planned. Well, not until that point in time anyhow. See… I was running away from something.’
‘Your grandmother.’ He nodded.
‘Yes, but see I was running away from her because I walked out on my wedding.’
‘You were getting married?’ His heart plummeted.
‘I was. To the grandson of a family friend. We were due to marry at his ancestral home. It was a big affair and was going to be covered by the high society magazines and everyone Grandma knew had been invited. But when the day came, I just couldn’t go through with it. So I ran away.’ She dropped her gaze to her hands and he watched as she wrung them in her lap.
‘Well, if it was wrong then it was wrong, Frankie. Better to walk away before the ceremony than after.’
She looked up. ‘Do you think? That’s what I told myself. Grandma wasn’t of the same mind.’
‘She’ll be OK about it in time, I’m sure.’
‘I hope so.’
‘And it’s your life, anyway, so you have to live it the way you want to.’
She nodded. ‘I didn’t love him. It was all wrong and if I had loved him, then I’d have married him and been Mrs Rolo Bellamy now. He wanted me to take his name,’ she added.
‘You didn’t want that?’
She shrugged. ‘I didn’t love him so the thought of being his wife was bad enough as it was. But I feel awful for the upset I caused by walking away. So much money and time wasted.’
Jonas gently placed his hand on top of hers. ‘You have a right to be happy. No one should ever tell you that you don’t.’
‘Thank you.’
They stood up and Jonas smiled at Frankie, trying to offer some reassurance. It must have taken great courage to get to her wedding day then call a halt to proceedings. It would have been easier to keep her head down and go through with it to save face. Yet she hadn’t, and he admired her for that. Frankie was stronger than he had realized and it made him admire her even more.
They paid the bill then went back out into the wintery afternoon. The sky had darkened now and was positively leaden, as if at any moment it would throw down freezing rain or possibly snow. Jonas didn’t know which, as he was used to the skies of Norway and not accustomed to reading this British sky, just as he wasn’t accustomed to reading Frankie. Something he wished he could remedy, and soon. If only he knew how she felt about him…