Jonas walked briskly along the promenade. It was a beautiful afternoon and he was out with Luna, his two-year-old husky. He’d been to the gallery in the morning and closed up at lunchtime for Freya, as she’d had a lunch appointment with a buyer and had left early. He slowed his pace and led Luna towards a bench where he sat down. Luna sat on the ground in front of him gazing out at the birds swooping into the water, her ears pricked and her tail curled around her legs. Her high prey drive kept her constantly alert when they were out and about, and Jonas kept a tight hold on her leash, not wanting to see her launch herself into the water.
This was a typical afternoon for him when he was in Oslo – he’d walk Luna to burn off some of her excess energy and they’d often enjoy a stroll along the front – but today something was different. He breathed deeply and tried to enjoy the sensation of fresh air and sunshine on his skin but something had unsettled him. Well, not exactly something, but that English woman he’d found sleeping in front of the cafe.
Of course, it wasn’t every day that he found someone sleeping on the harbour front, but something about that woman had troubled him. She’d seemed exhausted, sad and vulnerable. Jonas hated to see anything suffering, whether human or animal, and he knew he had a soft spot for wounded creatures. His mother had teased him enough about it growing up and told him it was because he was so intuitive and in tune with nature.
But it was more than that. He filled his lungs with air, counting each exhalation out slowly as he allowed his mind a few moments to mull it over.
What had it been about that woman?
She was strikingly beautiful. He’d noticed that immediately, it had been obvious even when she was slouching at the table, her head turned towards the sun. Her silky brown hair had fallen over her shoulder, strands of it deep red and golden brown as they caught the sunlight. Her skin was clear and free from make-up and her dark lashes had fluttered on her cheeks as she slept. And then… when he’d finally managed to wake her, he’d seen her eyes, as green as the northern lights and just as rousing.
He shook his head and smiled. Sometimes he sounded almost poetic but he knew it was the artist in him. When he saw something beautiful, whether scenery, animal or person, he wanted to capture that beauty in a photograph, to preserve it for ever, and that was what he had felt when the woman had sat up and met his gaze. He’d almost asked if he could take her photo, but she’d likely have become suspicious about his motives and he hadn’t wanted to do that to her. She was probably in Oslo on some kind of business trip and he didn’t want to ruin that for her by making her wary of the locals.
But she was beautiful…
And strangely, she also seemed familiar. There was something about the shape of her eyes and the tilt of her chin, a sense of pride and independence he felt sure he’d seen before. Perhaps it was just an English thing and she reminded him of an actress or celebrity. After all, he had accused her of mistaking him for Thor or that Vikings actor, so it could be the same for her.
What did it matter?
Jonas came across many beautiful women in his line of work and many interesting tourists, but that was all they would ever be. He loved his life, his freedom and his job, and no woman was ever going to change that for him.
His mother had warned him that one day a woman would come along and steal his heart but he was thirty-two and it hadn’t happened yet. He couldn’t see that changing.
And that was just fine with him.
‘Dad?’ Frankie answered her phone.
‘Frankie, darling?’
Emotion welled in Frankie’s throat and she swallowed hard.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes… I’m fine, Dad, thanks.’
‘Jolly good. I’m so glad.’
‘I’m in—’
‘No, it’s OK, Frances, don’t tell me.’
‘Why, will Grandma torture you to get the information?’
Her father gave a small laugh at the other end of the line.
‘Well… perhaps not torture but she does have the ability to make my life hell.’
‘Oh, Dad.’ Frankie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘I know. I should have moved out years ago but I hated the thought of leaving her alone.’
‘She’s tougher than you think.’
He didn’t reply and Frankie knew better than to push him on this. Her father was so gentle and kind-hearted and he’d always put her feelings and Grandma’s before his own. Whenever Frankie had tried to get him to stand up to his mother, he’d always explained that Grandma was getting older and that she wasn’t as tough as she seemed. She’d been devastated when her husband had died when Hugo was just fifteen, and it seemed to Frankie that, ever since then, she’d relied on her son more than was healthy for either of them. It wasn’t that she thought her father was a wimp – because he was a strong and successful businessman – more that he was too considerate of his mother’s feelings and never wanted to upset her by standing up to her. But it was something Frankie had tried and failed to get her father to change, so she knew better than to push the subject now.
‘How are you anyway, Dad?’
‘Missing you madly, but glad you did the right thing for you.’
‘But not for Grandma? Did she tell you that I saw her as I was leaving the Bellamy estate?’
‘She did say that you’d had words.’
‘She had words. I bit my tongue… as usual.’
‘She’ll survive, darling. It’s given her a bit of a mission actually… which is why I want you to be careful who you tell about where you are.’
‘She is looking for me then?’
‘Uh…’
‘I had visions of her employing fifty of her private investigators to track me down.’
‘I’ve asked her to leave you alone so you can have some time out, and I explained that you felt you and Rolo rushed the whole wedding thing.’
‘How’d she take that?’
‘Not well but what can you do? She’ll be fine.’
‘I wish you’d had more children then it wouldn’t have all fallen on me… Oh… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that. It just came out.’
Frankie winced, as she knew it wasn’t her father’s fault that she had no brothers or sisters. He’d never fallen in love after Freya had gone. Besides, he’d told her he couldn’t bear for her to feel replaced or overshadowed by any other children he might have had from a subsequent marriage, so he’d preferred not to get involved again.
‘I understand. I know that some siblings would have taken the pressure off you a tad.’
‘As it would have done for you.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Anyway, Grandma will get over it in time. I’ll come back in about ten years, shall I?’
‘To be honest, I think she’s more shocked at what Rolo’s done. Dammit! You don’t know about that, do you?’
‘That he went on our honeymoon with Lorna?’
‘Jen told you?’
‘She didn’t want me to hear it from someone less tactful or to find out via the photos on social media.’
‘I’m sorry, darling.’
‘Don’t be, Dad. I’m fine about it, honestly.’
‘As long as you are.’
‘Well, look, I’ll keep in touch by text and phone call. I don’t know exactly how long I’ll be away but it probably won’t be long. I just—’
‘You need some time. I know and I understand. Love you, princess.’
‘Love you too.’
Frankie ended the call then stretched out on her hotel bed. She could just imagine how furious and frantic Grandma would be right now, and it was all the more reason to stay away for a while. If she went back this week, then Grandma wouldn’t have had time to calm down and that would mean Frankie would be subjected to all manner of difficult conversations. Sometimes, it was as if she was still a little girl, not a 29-year-old woman with a job and a life of her own.
She knew Grandma worried about her – or her reputation, rather – and that she’d taken over the role of mother figure in Frankie’s life after Freya had left, but sometimes, life with Helen Ashford could become… claustrophobic. That was why boarding school had been a surprising blessing for Frankie; she’d been able to escape Grandma’s shadow for weeks at a time, and to have a chance to assert some independence. She wondered if her father had always been so overshadowed by Grandma, or if it had happened after Freya had left. She couldn’t imagine a woman marrying a man so henpecked by his mother and wondered if Freya had stood up to Helen. It would take a strong woman indeed to say no to Grandma. Frankie had experienced the disapproval of her grandmother many times, something that was often followed by a rolling of eyes and mutterings that suggested that she reminded Grandma of Freya, so perhaps her mother had been strong. It could even explain why she had felt the need to walk away…
But without her baby?
The hurt pierced Frankie’s chest and she pulled her knees up and hugged them. She didn’t know if the hurt of abandonment was something she’d ever be able to forgive and forget, whatever Freya’s reasons were. Although she couldn’t deny that she’d like to try – if the simmering anger that hid in the shadows behind the hurt would allow her to.