Page 31 of Meet Me Under the Northern Lights

Hildur had cooked again and Gunnar knew he should tell her that keeping off her foot was more important right now than preparing dinner, but for two reasons he said nothing.

The first was because Hildur generally never listened to anything that contradicted what she wanted to do.

And the second reason was because the plokkfiskur – fish stew – was absolutely delicious.

‘Is there more?’ Magnús asked, eyes wide.

‘Magnús,’ Hildur said, humour in her tone. ‘When I cook there is always more, no?’

Before anything further could be said the boy was up from the table and heading towards the pot on the countertop in the kitchen area.

‘The trip was good today?’

Hildur had lowered her voice to ask the question even though Magnús was so busy spooning extra food onto his plate he was oblivious to anything else.

‘Yes,’ Gunnar answered. ‘The weather was not too cold and everyone enjoyed themselves.’

‘And the “except”? Did she enjoy herself?’

‘Her name is Chloe,’ Gunnar reminded her. ‘And yes. But the tour is good. Icelandic views are unmatched. There are never any bad reviews about the scenery.’

But, despite Chloe brushing over whatever had happened to her on the black sand beach, he hadn’t forgotten how close she had come to falling off that ridge.

He had kept calm, like he always tried to, made it seem like nothing, but it hadn’t been.

He wondered if she would ever tell him what she had been thinking about in that moment…

‘And Magnús? Did you manage to speak to him about school?’

Gunnar’s eyes went to the boy, piling up food, oblivious to their conversation. He nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘And?’

‘And I will be going to see his teacher tomorrow. I need to make sure that they know the full story and that at the very beginnings of any issues with Magnús they make me aware.’

‘Very good,’ Hildur said, nodding.

‘What is very good?’ Magnús asked, sliding back into his seat with a steaming plate of food. ‘The fish stew? Or the way Gunnar did not tell you he has a date tomorrow night?’

‘What?’ both Hildur and Gunnar exclaimed at the very same time.

Gunnar was quick to recover sense and follow the one word up. ‘I do not know what you mean. I am simply meeting with Chloe to investigate something for her work. She organises events.’

‘Hmm,’ Hildur said, a suspicious smile on her face. ‘So you will be taking your computer with you?’

‘What? No,’ Gunnar said. ‘She has a computer and?—’

‘And the kind of “investigations” do not need you to work your fingers.’ She gasped. ‘With the keyboard at least.’

‘Hildur!’ Gunnar said warningly, eyes darting to the impressionable boy he was responsible for.

‘She seems nice,’ Magnús said, gravy falling from his overladen fork.

‘Does she?’ Hildur asked. ‘Tell me more of what she is like. Or maybe, after your “investigations” you can invite her for dinner. I can cook and?—’

‘No,’ Gunnar said firmly as he felt this conversation was getting out of his control. ‘No one is coming to dinner and you will not do any more of the cooking while your foot is still broken.’

He knew he shouldn’t have raised his voice and both Hildur and Magnús were looking at him like he was scolding them both. He hadn’t meant it to come across that way, but he also didn’t like the weight Hildur seemed to be putting on his getting to know Chloe.

‘My foot,’ Hildur said soberly, ‘is my foot and I have been taking care of that, and the rest of the things that belong to me, for many many years.’ She wriggled in her seat like she was about to get up.

‘Hildur, I am?—’

‘Hildur,’ Magnús interrupted. ‘Tonight would you like me to get the boxes of Christmas decorations for you to look through? We can decide what to get out for this year and which pieces can go on the tree when Gunnar gets it down.’

He had to marvel at how switched on Magnús was. If there was one thing guaranteed to get Hildur to forget about anything it was the thought of her fingers travelling through the decorations of yesteryear and telling them all the stories of when she was a child.

‘I think,’ Hildur began, sitting still, ‘that you are saying all this to make a distraction.’

OK. That had not worked.

‘But,’ Hildur continued. ‘I am happy to let the conversation change, for now, and indulge in reliving the stories of when I was a child and we made our own festive decorations from wood. If that is what you would both like.’

Gunnar and Magnús exchanged a glance between them. Camaraderie in this moment.

‘What I would like is for Brigitta Lundgren’s hair to fall out and her face to be covered in spots,’ Magnús admitted.

‘Magnús!’ Gunnar exclaimed.

Hildur paused before replying. ‘There is a spell I can teach you for that.’

‘Hildur!’ Gunnar admonished.

‘What? If you do not believe in the art of the mystical then it should not matter to you because you will not think that it can work.’ Hildur held a finger in the air. ‘Or perhaps I should see if there is a spell for romance?’

Gunnar stood then, pushing back his chair. ‘That will not be necessary.’ He picked up his bowl.

‘Ah! Such confidence! This is good,’ Hildur said with a smile and a wink at Magnús.

Gunnar took his bowl to the kitchen sink and looked through the window, out into the cold, dark night speckled with stars. When had his life started to feel chaotic? When had order and calm been replaced by feeling like he was plate-spinning 24/7?

‘You know,’ Magnús said, bringing his now empty bowl to the kitchen area.

‘You could ask Chloe if she wants to come to my Christmas show. I mean, I know I have not been at the last few rehearsals, but I have been working on my lines and my dancing and it is traditional, right? It might help with her work.’

Gunnar turned around and smiled at the boy. ‘I am sure Chloe would like that, Magnús but I do not know how long she stays in Iceland.’

‘Then ask,’ Magnús said, his eyes locking on Gunnar’s. ‘Like with my parents. Maybe you need to make your choice.’

Gunnar swallowed, the poignancy hitting him firmly in the chest.

He nodded. ‘OK, Magnús, I will ask.’