Chapter Eight
Seven fifty-two.
Darcy sat alone at the table, staring out of the window at the wildflower meadows which were an incongruous luxury in a marine city. The sleek blonde wood room was an homage to eco luxury, with no decoration beyond an antique shou sugi ban table, some hides on chairs, and plants and vines hanging from the ceiling. It certainly wasn’t the sort of place to sit staring at her phone, the ambient noise level never rising beyond a civilized murmur. Everyone was dressed in a sombre but refined colour palette and she suspected that if she checked labels, all she would find was Massimo Dutti, Loro Piana and Celine; just so much as a ruffle or a hint of pink would disturb the peace.
She was trying not to drink her glass of water too quickly, but after the day she’d had, she could have downed a bottle of wine. The minutes ticked by at half speed. The waiters probably thought she’d been stood up. She had known it was silly to arrive so early, but she’d been propelled all afternoon by a need to get going – to get gone – and she hadn’t been able to shake it off when she’d got back to the apartment. Somewhat to her relief, Freja hadn’t been there – no doubt getting ready at Tristan’s – and she’d been able to shower and calm herself down in peace.
‘My God, are we late?’ Freja asked, rousing her from her thoughts.
‘No, I’m just crazy early for once.’ She pressed her cheek to her friend’s.
‘Don’t tell me you’re hungry?’ Freja asked with mock surprise.
‘Always.’
‘Of course.’ Freja was wearing a dark green silk dress shot through with delicate gold thread which Darcy had never seen before. New? she asked wordlessly, with an arch of her eyebrow; Freja winked back in silent reply. Her ringleted hair was blown out and she was wearing chunky gold earrings, also new. Darcy wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her friend look sophisticated before. The two of them very much alternated between Hedge Backwards (running/gym kit), Rotting Corpse (PJs), Basic Bitch (jeans) and Club Rat (anything black, cropped or tight).
Freja looked back, holding her arm out towards someone, a smile enlivening her face. Darcy caught the look of pride in her eyes. ‘Darce, finally, you get to meet Tristan. Tristan – no pressure, but this is the most important person in my life.’
Darcy looked up to finally greet her hitherto-faceless foe, the man responsible for stealing away her best friend and leaving her alone in an empty flat.
‘No pressure at all, then.’ Tristan grinned, his face pleating into easy folds as if it was his default setting as they shook hands. ‘Hi.’
‘...Hi.’ Darcy was taken aback. He was not what she had expected at all. Freja’s usual type was unemployed artist/musician/writer, bouncer or barista. This guy was more barrister. He seemed to be Freja’s opposite in every way: neat to her scruffy; formal to her relaxed; large, open features to her doll looks; an athletic, muscular frame to her long, skinny limbs. He was dressed simply in a black suit and open-necked shirt but had a stealth-wealth vibe that Erik the Property Developer could have learned a lot from.
But that wasn’t what surprised her most. Freja had somehow failed to mention at any point that Tristan was a good ten, if not twenty, years older than them. Of course he had chosen this fancy restaurant, would order the wine, pay for dinner – all of which Freja had forewarned her about. He could be her dad!
‘...Thanks for arranging this.’
‘I take any excuse I can. The food’s very good here. Have you been before?’ he asked.
Darcy suppressed a shocked laugh. ‘No. Never.’ Funnily enough, her student budget didn’t stretch to Michelin-starred restaurants. ‘But it all looks so good.’ She cast an envious glance at the diners already eating. ‘I’m ravenous.’
‘Why so hungry?’ Freja asked.
‘I’ve not eaten since breakfast.’
‘What? Nothing at all?’ Freja asked, looking appalled. She ate hourly and was still somehow stick thin.
‘Yeah.’
‘But there’s leftover curry in the fridge.’
‘I know, but I wasn’t at home. I had to stay where I was to work. Turned out I couldn’t leave the premises with any of the material.’
Freja looked scandalized. ‘But surely Viggo could have made you a sandwich?’
Darcy bit her lip, wondering whether to tell her friend the full story. After the way Freja had reacted to Max last time, she didn’t relish bringing up his name again – especially not in front of Tristan.
‘It was fine,’ she demurred, deciding to change the subject. ‘I wasn’t hungry while I was working. It was only afterwards that it caught up with me.’
‘Tch.’ Freja looked unimpressed. ‘You need fuel, especially after we went harder on the run today.’
‘We did?’ Darcy asked in surprise.
‘Didn’t you notice? We knocked six minutes off our PB.’
‘That’s impressive,’ Tristan said, looking at Darcy.
‘It was nothing to do with me. I had no idea, I just try to keep up,’ she shrugged.
‘You were stressed. It was like a jet engine propelling you along.’
‘Huh.’ Darcy wondered how quickly she would go if she were to run tomorrow, with today’s encounter with Max running through her head. Supersonic?
‘This is precisely why we run, I keep telling you. Stress management. You need it even when you think you don’t.’
Darcy rolled her eyes. ‘See what I have to live with? She never gives me any peace. My Saturday mornings are gruelling.’
A waitress came over with the menus. She automatically handed Tristan the wine list. ‘Well, she’s trying to talk me into doing a Tough Mudder competition with her,’ he said, taking it mindlessly. He looked perfectly at home here.
‘It’d be so fun!’ Freja exclaimed, reaching for his hand.
‘Tristan, escape now while you still can,’ Darcy quipped, reaching for her almost empty water glass instead. ‘The next thing you know, she’ll have you signed up to Iron Man and ultramarathons.’
‘Yeah, that’s what my head’s saying too,’ he grinned. ‘On the other hand, I do like how she pushes me.’ He looked back at Freja and they shared a look so private, Darcy had to look away. She stared down at the menu but the words swam in front of her eyes. Having been alone all day, she’d been looking forward to meeting up with them tonight; she hadn’t expected to feel lonely in their company.
As if reading her mind, Tristan pulled his hand back and cleared his throat. ‘Apologies, we’re still at the “disgusting to be around” stage.’
‘Darcy doesn’t care. Her love life is far more exciting. She’s got them lining up,’ Freja grinned.
‘Now that’s not exactly true is it, Freja?’ Darcy said in a wry tone, before looking over at Tristan. ‘Thanks for the referral to Raya by the way.’
He shrugged. ‘My pleasure. I’m glad it’s working out for you.’
‘That might be a stretch. All I have on my horizon so far is a date booked with a rather reluctant vet.’
‘So he finally asked?’ Freja gasped.
‘No, I did. I couldn’t be bothered with waiting any longer.’ Sitting alone on Max Lorensen’s velvet sofa while he was out lunching with a model and opening a text from Aksel asking her if she could roll her tongue (it was a genetic quirk, supposedly) had been her tipping point. Just date me or dump me, she had thought as she texted back: ‘Let’s meet and I can show you.’
‘Good on you, girl.’ Freja looked back at Tristan. ‘This guy’s been dragging out the conversation for days,’ she explained.
‘ Days ? Surely not,’ Tristan said, bemused. ‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’
‘It is a bad thing. This is modern dating. There comes a point when being endlessly polite is actually just rude. Does he want her or not?’
His smile grew. ‘Perhaps he’s one of those guys who doesn’t want to rush things. I’ve heard there’s still a few of them left out there.’
‘Yeah. Well, he hasn’t met me, but he really respects me,’ Darcy said sardonically.
Tristan chuckled. ‘He could turn out to be a keeper. You never know.’
‘So when are you seeing him, and where?’ Freja demanded.
‘Tuesday night. At the Bastard cafe.’ It was a board games bar, perfectly suited to rainy Sunday afternoons – but he was on call this weekend.
‘Quirky.’
‘Yeah. I figured if the conversation was lacking, at least we’d have something to do.’
‘Good call,’ Freja agreed. ‘Are you excited?’
Darcy arched an eyebrow. ‘Come now – we know better than that. No expectations. No disappointment.’
‘This is a tragedy! You’re both so cynical,’ Tristan exclaimed.
‘You would be too if you had to date men,’ Freja replied.
He laughed.
‘I’m serious. Poor Darce got cheated on in her last relationship. And the one before decided that he was bi, but since then has only dated men.’
‘I turned him gay. I did that,’ Darcy said, thumping her chest with a proud smile and making him laugh harder.
‘You’ve had a bad run,’ Freja consoled, patting her hand and also laughing. ‘Which is precisely why your luck is about to change. Aksel the Vet is everything those guys weren’t. Just you wait. Tuesday night is going to be transformative.’
Darcy rolled her eyes as she looked back at Tristan with a tut. ‘I don’t know what you’ve done to my friend, but could you give her back, please? I don’t recognize this lovesick puppy sitting beside me.’
‘Apologies,’ he grinned, looking delighted and not at all sorry.
Two waiters walked past carrying plates, and Darcy’s nose twitched at the tantalizing scent. ‘My God, what is that?’ she asked, unable to place it.
‘Reindeer brain jelly, if I’m not mistaken,’ Tristan replied.
She suppressed a guffaw of laughter. What? ‘Of course. How silly of me not to recognize it.’
He grinned. ‘As I say, I come here any chance I can get.’
‘Well, I can honestly say I’ve never even seen reindeer brains before, much less eaten them.’
‘It’s more delicious than you could imagine.’
‘I’m counting on it.’
Tristan laughed.
‘I still can’t believe Viggo let you work without a break,’ Freja fumed. ‘I thought you said the guy was lovely!’
‘He is. And it really wasn’t like that.’
‘No? How not?’
Darcy hesitated, unable to see an exit strategy. ‘Because he wasn’t actually there.’
‘Huh?’
‘When I got his text saying the boxes were available, I assumed the address he gave was his, but it wasn’t. That’s all,’ she shrugged.
It was not all, of course. Freja knew her too well. ‘So whose was it, then? Where were you?’
‘Does it matter?’ Darcy replied, as dismissively as she could.
Freja’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yeah...I think it does. Where were you that you couldn’t leave and couldn’t eat?’
She sighed, knowing her flatmate wouldn’t give it up. ‘I was at Max’s house, but—’
‘Max?’ Freja looked at her blankly, before giving a gasp. ‘Max the Lawyer?’
‘Yes.’
Freja sat back in her chair, her hand plastered over her open mouth.
Darcy rolled her eyes. ‘Frey, that’s a bit dramatic, even for you.’
‘You were in his house? But...how? You unmatched with him.’
‘Because he was the one who got the approval for the archive material to be taken off site. He lives on the same road and he’s a trustee, so it was enough to convince the insurers to allow it – but I couldn’t take it away. I had to stay and work there.’
‘Who is this guy?’ Tristan asked, looking bewildered by the sudden drama.
‘A man-whore who she needs to keep well away from,’ Freja said. ‘He is everything Aksel the Vet isn’t. He’s trouble. Toxic.’
‘Do you always describe everyone by their occupations?’
‘It helps keep them...one-dimensional.’
Tristan’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Now who’s toxic?’
‘That’s not toxic. It’s sensible. Until they can prove they’re trustworthy, they don’t get to be fully fledged people in our lives.’
Tristan absorbed this for a moment. ‘So what was I? Tristan the Scientist?’
She beamed at him. ‘Actually no, you’re saved in my phone as Boss Baby.’
‘Boss Baby?’ He laughed. ‘I see.’
‘You’re her boss ?’ Darcy asked in shock.
Tristan froze, his eyes sliding over to Freja. ‘You didn’t say?’
‘...It hasn’t come up!’
‘How not?’
Freja swallowed. ‘Because I didn’t anticipate us getting to this point where we would be meeting each other’s families and friends.’
Tristan reached over and placed his hand over Freja’s. ‘How can you be so young and yet so cynical?’
‘Because a lot’s changed since you were young,’ Freja quipped.
Tristan grinned and Darcy saw again the teasing energy between them.
‘What exactly is the age difference?’ Darcy asked, seeing as they were being frank.
‘Sixteen years,’ Freja answered. ‘He’s forty-two.’
‘Forty-two and your boss,’ Darcy murmured. ‘Right.’
‘It’s not ideal, I know. On paper it looks bad,’ Tristan said, his smile disappearing for the first time since he’d arrived. ‘But Freja’s twenty-six. She knows her own mind, and neither of us was looking for this or expecting it to become what it’s become. We’re more surprised than anyone.’
I doubt that, Darcy thought but didn’t say. She wondered how her flatmate’s parents would take the news when they heard. If they heard. ‘So are you divorced, or...?’
‘No. Never married. I was too focused on building the business to have time for relationships before now.’
‘Building the business?’
‘Black Circle Labs is Tristan’s company. He’s the founder.’
It was Darcy’s turn to gasp, as she heard the name of the company where Freja was doing her work placement. ‘So then you’re the boss’s boss. The big boss.’
‘I’m the boss of everyone but Freja. I’ve yet to win an argument – or to steal the duvet back in the middle of the night.’
Darcy had to smile. ‘...Any kids?’
‘No kids either. Not even any pets.’
‘Oh, well, that’s just worrying,’ she rebutted. ‘Anyone who willingly chooses to live without dogs is clearly sociopathic.’
‘Then I shall get a dog,’ he said, not missing a beat. The man radiated charisma. ‘How am I doing? Do I pass, in spite of my very obvious flaws and dogless state?’
‘I guess you’re passing muster,’ she grinned back.
‘Is that it? Is the interrogation over?’ Freja demanded. ‘Can we get back to the crisis in hand now?’ She turned back to Darcy. ‘How was it, seeing him again?’ She looked at Tristan. ‘He dumped her before they could be a thing. Said they need to be professional because of working together.’
‘Usually I would wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment,’ Tristan said, reaching over and squeezing Freja’s thigh.
‘Well, it was a shock, obviously, given I thought I was going to see Viggo.’ Darcy shrugged. ‘But he was...very nice about it all. Generous.’ She tried to make her words as neutral as possible.
‘Wasn’t it awkward, though, being in his house?’
‘Not really. He wasn’t even there after the first ten minutes.’
‘He left?’
‘Yes, he had plans with his girlfriend.’
Freja’s jaw dropped open as the hits kept on coming.
‘She’s another model,’ Darcy said quickly, anticipating the questions before they came. ‘Angelina or something. Stunning. Exactly what you’d expect for him. Anyway, they went out and left me to it, and I just worked until about six and then went back home, and that’s it.’
She drew a breath.
‘Wait, wait, wait – just back it up,’ Freja said bossily, holding up her hands. ‘He left you alone in his house, all day ?’
Darcy felt relief that she wasn’t the only one to have found it odd. ‘Yes. Working.’
‘But not eating.’
‘He did actually say I could help myself to whatever. But obviously I wasn’t going to do that.’
‘So what, you just starved for seven hours?’
‘I had a glass of water. Two glasses, actually.’ The coffee machine had looked too expensive to use. What if she did something wrong and broke it?
Freja stared at her, analysing her every breath. ‘What’s his house like?’
‘Stunning. It’s a townhouse on Stockholmsgade.’
‘Oh, I’ve got some friends who live along there,’ Tristan said, interested.
Of course he did, Darcy thought. Millionaire’s Row.
‘There are some special properties on that road.’
‘Yes. His is definitely one of them. Ivy-clad, windows overlooking the park; antiques. A few Picasso and Matisse sketches in the downstairs loo.’
‘You went to the loo?’ Freja gasped.
‘Obviously.’ Darcy rolled her eyes. ‘I just told you, I had two glasses of water and was there all day.’
‘Where else did you go?’
‘Nowhere. That was it.’
‘That was it? You didn’t have a quick sneak peek at his bedroom?’
‘Of course not!’
‘The sitting room, then?’
‘Freja! I wasn’t going to go snooping around the place!’ She shot a sideways look at Tristan, who was listening interestedly.
Freja’s eyes narrowed. ‘You think he has cameras?’
‘I mean, maybe,’ Darcy shrugged. She dropped her voice. ‘I couldn’t take the risk, you know?’
‘Yeah,’ Freja agreed, sitting back in the chair and tapping her fingernails thoughtfully on the table.
Tristan chuckled, as if amused by them both.
‘I don’t know how you could bear it, all those hours sitting there...alone,’ Freja commiserated. ‘The temptation to just see his stuff – his life, his world – you know?’
‘Are you getting this?’ Darcy asked Tristan.
‘Oh yeah.’ He nodded. ‘This is why women are terrifying.’
Darcy laughed, but Freja was still on her riff. ‘It could have told you so much about him, though. Homes are so revealing.’
‘Well, it definitely revealed he’s rich. Likely born rich. He’s been there for ten years, he said.’
‘And he’s with a supermodel!’
‘Well, she’s just a model – but she was pretty super,’ Darcy conceded. ‘They definitely looked right together.’
‘Yeah,’ Freja agreed, even though she hadn’t laid eyes on either one of them.
‘Is that a thing, then?’ Tristan asked. ‘Looking right together?’
‘You don’t agree that some people just look like they belong together?’
He looked across at Freja and gave a shrug. ‘Not really, no. I’m not sure you and I are a visual match. And yet...’
‘You’re so sweet,’ Freja murmured, looking into his eyes, her features softening as his gaze held hers.
Darcy cleared her throat to remind them she was still there, still third-wheeling. ‘Well, anyway, it’s none of my business. I was there to work and that’s what I did.’
Freja drew herself back into the moment. ‘But weren’t you distracted? Didn’t you spend the whole time thinking he’d be back any minute?’
Darcy didn’t want to admit it. ‘...Yes. It sort of defeated the point of working the weekend.’ She had somehow made her way through both boxes, leaving a piece of paper on top with a note. ‘All done. Thanks, D.’
Strictly speaking, she could have done with looking back over some diary entries for June 1920 one more time, but the spectre of his – his and Angelina’s – imminent return had her nervous to the point of feeling sick, and she had bolted as early as she could. She really hadn’t wanted to still be there when they got back.
Freja’s eyes narrowed again. ‘Would it have been better or worse if he’d been there?’
‘Oh, worse. Infinitely. I couldn’t have concentrated with him in the vicinity.’ She gave a shudder.
‘Bet you wish you’d gone home and had that shower now, huh?’
‘Yep,’ Darcy agreed. ‘But at least it’s over and done with now. And I won’t have to see him again. He doesn’t work in the same building, so this was a one-off.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Freja’s eyes slid over to Tristan’s and he gave a shrug.
‘What?’ Darcy asked.
‘Nothing,’ Freja shrugged back.
‘No, what?’
Tristan caught the eye of the waitress, and she came towards the table to take their orders. ‘I just feel sorry for the vet.’
‘Interesting case today. I had a hamster brought in that had swallowed a marble. Never seen that before.’
Darcy lay in the dark, staring at her screen. It was well after midnight, and she was home alone; Freja had gone back to Tristan’s after dinner. Why wouldn’t she? He had a penthouse apartment in Islands Brygge. ‘Were you able to get it out?’
‘Yes, eventually. Costly though.’
‘How much?’
‘13,000 kr.’
‘OMG. For a hamster?’
‘People do crazy things for their “fur babies”.’
She smiled, turning onto her side and pulling the covers up over her shoulders. It was a cold night, frost forming on the outside of the window. ‘What’s the strangest medical emergency you’ve ever had?’
‘There’s been a few: had a rabbit that accidentally got stoned a few weeks back, eating a joint.’
‘No! That’s terrible.’
‘The owner swore blind it wasn’t theirs [shrug emoji] And we have a dog who keeps swallowing bees and keeps getting stung. Repeat offender. Doesn’t seem to learn.’
‘Poor thing.’
‘Yesterday a cat was brought in with concussion. It ran headlong into a wall, chasing an infrared laser.’
‘No! Was it okay?’
‘Will be. No lasting damage.’
‘I never knew being a vet was so diverting.’
‘Rarely boring, that’s for sure. How was your day?’
‘I ended up having to work too. But it was nowhere near as interesting as yours – sifting through boxes on my own. I did manage to get a run in with my flatmate this morning though, so that was something.’
‘You like running?’
‘Hate it, but she bribes me with food.’
‘How far do you run?’
‘Usually 8–10k. Depends on whether we have hangovers.’
‘Sounds like you get on well.’
‘We’re very close. She was my first proper friend in the city. Do you live with anyone?’
‘My sister. She’s three years younger and training to be a nurse.’
‘Medical family.’
‘Yes. My father’s a doctor too...’
They chatted for a while longer before saying good night and she switched off her phone, staring across her room and out of the window. She never drew her curtains here. It would be dark until her alarm went off in the morning – not that she had set an alarm for tomorrow. Sunday mornings were sacrosanct and with Freja over at Tristan’s, she had the place entirely to herself. She might bake a cake. Or read that book she’d bought at the airport on her way over in the summer and still hadn’t had time to read. Or go to the gym. Or try dry-slope skiing at CopenHill. Or finally see the Vilhelm Hammersh?i painting Interior in Strandgade at the Kunst...
Or, most likely, sit on the sofa watching Netflix, eating cereal from the box.
What time was it?
Darcy groaned, reaching for the phone, her hand patting around blindly for it on the bedside table. She found it eventually on top of her covers, which meant two things: she hadn’t stirred in her sleep. And she had drifted off to sleep too quickly last night, forgetting to plug it in to charge. She opened one eye and checked the time: 9.48 a.m.
The green WhatsApp icon was still banded across her home screen. Was that what had woken her? She clicked on it, though there was no name attached to the number. Not a contact of hers.
It was a photograph – of three archive boxes. She could see from the codes on their labels that they were the next ones along to the ones she’d worked on yesterday.
There was no hello, no goodbye. Just four words: ‘Ready when you are.’