Page 34 of A Copenhagen Snowmance

Chapter Twenty-Four

Anna eyes the Christiania bike in her yard from the window.

The cover across the box on the front is layered with snow, and there are ice crystals across the handlebars.

Against the snowy cobbles, it is rather Instagram-worthy.

She has her Christmas-lunch date with Katrine and the rest of the team in just over an hour, and as the sky is cloudless, she’s feeling the pull of the cycle lanes.

She hears Jamie come into the room and just as she’s about to ask him if he’d consider lending it to her, she realises he’s on a call, earbuds in.

It doesn’t take her long to realise it’s his dad again.

As Jamie said, they seem to be going around in circles on his moving back to Skye.

Or not moving back, as Jamie is steadfastly telling him.

Anna sees the problem. His father must be bewildered that his son is turning down the gift of a generational livelihood and land, but having known Jamie for only a short while, he’s clearly his own man who chooses his own path, has his own interests and is good at what he does.

And of course there are the other ties to Copenhagen…

“Have you told him about Nikoline?” she asks, when he hangs up. “Perhaps that would help. He wants his son with him, but knowing you want to be with your daughter is something he would understand.”

Jamie grimaces and scratches his cheek. “I can’t tell him about that. It’s all a mess, from start to finish. I doubt sperm-fishing is a thing on Skye.” He gives her a small smile now, making light of it, and she sees the subject is closed.

“I’m off out,” he says. “Need anything from the outside world?” She dwells on the hunter-gatherer vibe for a second, but shakes her head.

“Going on your bike?” she asks as if it’s a standard question, not a loaded one, which she will leap on if the answer is no.

“Aye,” he says, loading his backpack. “I can pick up some dinner on the way back.”

“Hmmm, I’ve got a lunch, which I know will be long and snaps-fuelled.

Maybe get something which can be tomorrow’s leftovers if I’ve over-pigged?

” She’s not even going to deny there’ll be shots knocked back throughout the meal.

It is tradition, after all. She’s also not going to give too much thought to the pleasant glow the domesticity of his question gives her.

Perhaps she should think about getting a flatmate when she returns to London. Perhaps it’s the company she craves.

He looks up at that. “I can pick you up later.”

The thought is lovely, to be ferried home, but there’s also something which makes her want to do this herself. And to keep things on an even keel between them. That Happy For Now offer hangs in the air – and like eye-catching bunting inside her head.

“I’ll be fine, but thanks,” she insists, not about to tell him of the maaaaany times she’s cycled across this city drunk. An idea hits her. “Any chance you’d help me get my bike out of the cellar?”

Two minutes later, they’re manhandling a red bicycle, complete with basket, up the stairs and out through the front door to stand next to his. Why hasn’t she thought about this earlier? Oh, yeah, she isn’t staying…

He offers to pump the wheels up, but looking at his arms, and at the thought of his straining biceps as he uses the pump, she waves him off with more thanks.

Morfar had been staunch about the responsibility of bike ownership and maintenance.

Anna is trained. She’s brought the pump and oil for the chain up from the cellar, too.

Although it’s biting cold outside and she hasn’t put her coat on, Anna gets a buzz putting the air back into her tyres and thirty minutes later, bundled up properly and pedalling along on the cycle path in towards the city centre, she has to admit the grin on her face is pure joy and not a frozen grimace.

* * *

Everyone has arrived at Restaurant Sankt Annae ahead of her.

The white building is old in its style, having been established in 1894.

All the windows have been trimmed on the outside with green fir, and the yellow glow from inside is a warm contrast to the cold outside.

Inside, it’s cosy, intimate and today, bouncing with Copenhageners having Christmas lunches, whether with friends, family or business colleagues.

The good-natured revelry can be heard from outside the door and given the many bottles of snaps on the tables, it is not going to get quieter.

Anna winds her way through the tables to reach Katrine and the team, pausing only once to say hello to someone she used to know from journalism school.

He’s on television now, and she’s flattered he recognised her.

Quick hello!s and how are you?s exchanged, she says she’s seeing her editor, with a point to Katrine, because she might not be on the telly, but she’s proud of her guides and not above a name-drop.

He looks Katrine’s way and Anna predicts a LinkedIn search later.

He’s a journalist, he must be writing a book of some kind.

The hugs she gets from everyone are effusive, and she realises that she has missed this team.

The company publishes travel guides in lots of ways, from ebooks and paperbacks to audio and various travel podcasts, to the website Anna contributes to.

Whatever the upcoming medium, they find a way to attach travel to it.

“It has been too long, Anna,” Katrine scolds.

“I had cake with you just the other day and I saw you in London!” Anna fights back, as she sits down. She takes a deep breath through her nose, taking in all the scents of the Christmassy foods some are having.

“The book fair is so busy. I’m exhausted in the evenings.” Katrine pulls a sad face.

Anna laughs and, putting a finger to her chin, says, “Funny, the way I remember it, you still managed to dance on a table by the end of the evening, so perhaps not so exhausted?” The other team members around them laugh knowingly at Katrine.

Katrine tries to look confused. “I can’t quite remember it.”

“Exactly,” Anna says, and holds up her phone. “But I have the receipts. So.”

“Is this blackmail?”

“Not yet. And only if I ever need it.”

Anna was Katrine’s first signing, and Katrine was Anna’s first and only editor, so they have a special fondness for each other. Anna thinks there are times when they think of themselves as toddlers muddling through publishing together, even though both have proven their abilities over the years.

The waiter comes and waits patiently as they order.

Anna forgoes the Julefrokost buffet, mainly because there are far too many herring, instead picking open sandwiches, which the restaurant is known for, from the regular menu.

She plumps for three; roast beef with horseradish, chicken with curried mayonnaise and bacon, and roast pork rib with red cabbage, all served on rye bread.

Katrine orders the first round of snaps for everyone, a Br?ndum.

“So, how’s the fame?” Katrine asks, pouring them each a glass of white wine.

“Pfft. I think it’s blown over.”

The look Katrine sends her says she’s certifiably delulu. “Have you not been on social media?”

Her stomach sinks somewhat.

Immediately everyone is scrolling through their phones.

Katrine pulls up the Tivoli website and there they are on the home page.

Moments later, Josefine opposite her pulls up Facebook where the photo is on not one but three of the Danish tourist pages, and then S?ren along from her finds a separate dedicated page named Copenhagen Snowmance, where other sightings of Anna and Jamie have been posted including that kiss against the safety fencing at Rundet?rnet.

Bloody hell! How are people so quick to this?

It’s there from various angles, plus a later shot of Jamie, arm caging her, gazing down at her.

Someone whistles in Anna’s direction and she doesn’t know if that’s what makes her blush, or the look Jamie is giving her in the photo.

“You’ve become a sport!” Katrine says with delight. Ditte, on Anna’s right, tops it off, finding a cut-out of the two of them being widely used as a meme.

Anna sinks down in her seat. It was probably best she hadn’t seen all that. “Ah,” is all she can say. She takes a long glug of her wine.

“Sk?l,” says Katrine with a laugh, lifting her glass to follow suit.

It’s joy to catch up on everyone’s news, all while tucking into the food and knocking back more snaps.

Anna’s delighted to hear who’s got married (Anne-Marie and Malene, though not to each other), and had children (Kasper), more children (Ditte and Jens, again, not together) or adopted (Josefine and Astrid, this time actually together, which had been a surprise as no one had known they were a couple).

She’s sad to hear about S?ren’s divorce and Henrik’s retirement.

She spends a long time savouring the roast beef sandwich with its layers of thinly cut, perfect pink roast beef, topped with yellow remoulade, fried onions, strings of grated horseradish and pickled cucumber.

It’s an exquisite feat of layering and flavours and it makes her eyelids flutter.

Yes, the snaps might also be taking its toll, but by now, as soon as one table starts sk?ling, everyone else does, too.

Anna can feel by the loosening of her limbs and eyes, and the fuzziness of her head, this is going to be messy.

Eventually, after much chat, singing and copious laughter, Katrine and Anna find they are the last at their table, the others being more sensible, and in a couple of cases having something else to go on to.

“Now,” slurs Katrine, “I want to hear more about your housemate.”

Anna feels the smile spread across her face, even though she’d planned to be more poker-faced.

“Look at you,” Katrine laughs, and pours them each another snaps. “You’re all swoony.”