Under One Sky

Chapter 30

30

AUGUST 2018, TROMS?, NORWAY

Andreas inhales the view as the cable car rises.

‘Amazing, my boys would love this!’ His face is that of an enchanted little boy himself, although his minky hair is greying at his temples.

Cecilie smiles. She finds other people’s smiles infectious. ‘You’ll have to bring them!’

They marvel at the rising view of the green slopes, the blue fjord, and the bridge connecting the mainland to the town. Despite the dark secrets the bridge keeps, it surges majestically out of the water. Cecilie is glad she agreed to this date; the view is breathtaking, and living at the foot of the mountain means she takes it for granted and doesn’t summit the peak nearly as often as she should.

‘Look!’ She points to the white roof of the library, a tiny wave across the water. ‘It’s easier to spot it in summer. Come December, everything looks white over there!’ Andreas leans into Cecilie so he can look down the length of her arm, her finger. Their sides touch.

‘Wow, you’re so lucky to live in such a magical place. ’

At the top of Mount Storsteinen they sit on metal chairs at a table at the cafe on the terrace, crisp thin air filling their lungs with feelings of newness, of excitement.

‘Ready to order?’ asks a stout woman wearing sunglasses and earmuffs.

‘What would you like?’ Andreas asks, looking down at his menu and stroking his nose.

Cecilie, still exhausted from not having slept the night before last, needs comfort food. ‘Burger for me, please,’ she says with a smile.

‘Bacon and cheese?’ asks the waitress, smoothing down her pinny.

‘Yes please.’

‘Potatoes and coleslaw?’

‘Yes please.’ Cecilie laughs and closes her menu.

‘And I’ll have the fish gratin please,’ says Andreas, handing the menu back to the waitress and lifting his sunglasses onto his head. In the lunchtime light of day-and-night brightness, Cecilie can see white glasses tracks wrapped around Andreas’s crow’s feet, highlighted by a summer tan. His eyes are blue and kind.

‘Anything to drink?’ asks the waitress. ‘How about a bottle of white? Cecilie?’

‘Sounds great, thanks.’

Andreas turns to the woman wobbling at their table. ‘Whatever your best bottle of white is please.’

Fresh air and fatigue make Cecilie feel happy to be looked after today. And there’s something very comfortable about Andreas that doesn’t make her want to ruin the moment with chit-chat. But he is intrigued by the beauty in front of him and wants to know more.

‘So, your brother. Wow, he’s quite a whirlwind. You seem very different; much more…’ He makes a gesture with his hand to in dicate a calm, steady line. Cecilie looks calm, but Andreas doesn’t know how she can rage internally while she delicately plays the harp.

‘We are – I am!’ Cecilie laughs, her cheeks rising playfully. ‘He’s very driven, like our mother. She’s a politician. She works harder than any woman – any man – I’ve ever met.’

‘You work pretty hard! Three jobs?’

‘Keeps me out of trouble.’

‘So, what do you do when you’re getting into trouble?’

‘I come up here,’ Cecilie lies. She hasn’t been up in ages. ‘I read. A lot. I play my harp.’

‘I’ve never met anyone who plays the harp. How does one learn to play the harp?’

Cecilie remembers Mr Lind and smiles fondly.

‘With patience. Which is another difference between me and Espen – he never sat still long enough to learn a musical instrument.’ Cecilie always finds it easier to talk about Espen than herself; he is the easier half of her to talk about. ‘My mother isn’t very musical either, she is always so super busy, so… away. ’

‘So, do you take after your father?’

Cecilie looks down at the bridge taunting her and lowers her own sunglasses over her eyes. She feels a tug inside her chest for a man she doesn’t know.

‘I guess. Anyway, what about you?’ Cecilie says, swerving the question. ‘What exactly is this business that brings you to the Arctic from cool Copenhagen?’

‘Well, I’m no brain surgeon as your brother seems to think, however many times I tell him. I import fish oil. And up here, in these waters, it’s the purest in the world.’

‘Fish oil?’ Cecilie curls her delicate nose as she remembers being spoon-fed the stuff as a child by her mother. Espen made an even bigger fuss than she did and insisted on putting a clothes peg on his nose before Karin went near him. ‘Is it really worth it? I stopped taking it as soon as I could.’

Andreas laughs. ‘Totally worth it!’

‘Why?’

‘Heart health, brain function, kidney function, lower cholesterol, healthy skin, hair, eyes…’ Even as he’s saying it, Andreas’s eyes sparkle, and Cecilie suspects that he is a man who practises what he preaches. ‘The results are unbelievable. Recent research has shown fish oil can even help ease symptoms of certain genetic disorders. The benefits are just incredible.’

As Andreas extols the virtues of his virtuous business, Cecilie closes her eyes and listens. As she listens to his measured, comforting voice, she drifts, over the bridge towards a faraway land, to another fatherless child, an orphan, who she can’t locate right now. She can’t see through the haze and clouds; Popocatépetl’s mighty peak obscures her view. She can’t see Hector sleeping alone in his marital bed. She can’t see his eyelids flicker as he dreams about her.