Chapter 24
24
JULY 2018, TROMS?, NORWAY
‘Thank you, Cecilie, that was wonderful as ever. Liv’s whole being lights up when we come here, I’m so, so grateful to you.’ Cecilie looks at the woman with the tired face and pointy chin. Her greying hair is scraped back and her delicate toddler is balanced on one hip as the mum leans down to pick up a soft giraffe from the floor of the library basement.
Cecilie takes Liv’s hand in hers, to steady her as an anchor as her mother bends with difficulty. She looks into the little girl’s far-apart eyes and slides a finger down from the flat bridge of her nose to the delicate tip, where she gives an affectionate double tap.
‘You sang beautifully, Livvy Loo,’ Cecilie says to the little girl. Enchanted eyes gaze back. Her mother stands and hands the soft toy back to her daughter. ‘Come back and see me next week, yes?’ Cecilie smiles.
The girl nods with an open mouth. An indebted mother smiles and slips away to gather bags, cardigans and coats and put them all on the buggy .
Cecilie collects the books scattered around the floor and stops at the feet of a pair of familiar tan-coloured brogues.
‘Did you collect your order at the desk?’ she asks, looking up.
‘Yep, got it from Fredrik,’ says Morten as he raises a puckish eyebrow above gnome-like eyes. He looks around conspiratorially to make sure the mothers, babies – and Fredrik up the short flight of stairs to the ground floor – can’t hear him. ‘He is so darned hot, Cecilie. Is the man not for turning?’
Cecilie gives a flustered smile. Twenty babies and toddlers in the basement of the library left her a little hot.
‘For you or for me?’
‘For you, my darling,’ Morten says, tucking his book into his messenger bag. ‘Although I wouldn’t say no. Has he dumped that dreary yoga teacher yet?’
‘India’s OK, they’re very happy together.’
‘But you would make such a beautiful couple. And have you seen his thighs?’
Cecilie smiles and deftly changes the subject to the book in Morten’s bag. ‘What was it he called in for you anyway? Anything I need to know about?’
Morten thinks Cecilie must have read most of the books in the library, so she will know about this one, although Fredrik did have to call it in from Deichmanske Bibliotek in Oslo, and they only had an English-language copy.
And then it occurs to him that this book might be a bit sensitive for Cecilie right now.
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ve read it already,’ he says, pushing his frameless glasses up his snub nose and reluctantly opening his bag again to take the book out. Cecilie takes it out of Morten’s soft hands and looks at the unfamiliar cover.
Instead of a Letter .
‘No, I don’t know this…’ ponders Cecilie as she reads the blurb on the back out loud.
Morten talks awkwardly over her, as if that will distract her from what she’s about to find out. ‘Oh, she’s an English writer. She wrote about how she was engaged to an air force pilot but he stopped writing to her, then she got a letter out of the blue saying he wanted to marry someone else…’ Morten feels terrible.
‘Oh.’
‘ Ja , she’s amazing. Saucy old woman. I read one memoir she wrote about ageing – it made me want to fit a lot more in during my life – but I wanted to get my hands on this. Apparently, it’s quite uplifting,’ he says with a hopeful smile. ‘I can pass it on to you?’
Cecilie busies herself tidying away the iPod dock with all the nursery rhymes stored on it and So, ro, lillemann pops into her head. ‘Yeah, sure, no hurry,’ she says, looking more sheepish than heartbroken.
Morten’s eyes narrow. He can tell Cecilie is keeping something from him. She’s a terrible liar and won’t let him see her face as she bends down to pick up the last of the soft books.
‘What is it? Cecilie…?’
She stands and looks at him, cheeks flushed. ‘Oh, we’re back in touch. The Mexican and me.’
Morten already knew who she meant. ‘Is that wise?’
‘Probably not.’
‘So why do you torture yourself, sweetie?’
‘Because talking to him and being sad is better than not talking to him and being sad.’
Cecilie’s hot flustered face drops and her eyes well up.
‘Here,’ Morten says, bringing her to his chest.
‘Don’t tell Espen, hey?’
A man mountain lingers at the top of the stairs .
‘Oh, Cecilie…’ says Fredrik quietly.
She breaks away, looks up and smiles. Fredrik runs his fingers through his tied-back hair and rests his hand at the back of his vast neck. His forearm swells under his ribbed jersey top.
‘I’m just going to the first floor to reset a machine for Mr Mosvold. Can you cover the desk please?’
‘Sure.’
Fredrik walks off and Morten looks at Cecilie and mouths three words.
‘So. Fucking. Hot.’