Chapter 14
The weekend before Lotta was due back in Oslo, Mats returned to Bergen and headed over to the island with his boat full of supplies.
He went alone, partly because Anders and Becca had gone back to Iceland having helped Ida sort out the contents of the farmhouse, and partly because he didn’t want anyone knowing what he was up to.
It felt like something special and he didn’t want to share it.
There had been a lot of progress since his last visit. Lars and his team had started work on the farmhouse, and the clearing it sat in was now cluttered with tools, machinery and materials, all of which had been brought across on barges that Knut had organised.
It didn’t look as unspoilt and wondrous as it had before they’d started, but once he walked into the woods towards the far end of the island, that part was still as untouched as it had been before.
The cabins that were scattered throughout the woods on this side of the island weren’t part of this phase of the development, but eventually, hopefully next year, it would be their turn for a makeover.
Today, as he wandered from cabin to cabin, he was interested in finding one that still had its roof and windows intact.
After he’d looked at about half of them, he found exactly what he was looking for.
It was a small cabin that still had some of its red paint on the outside walls, a window that had all its glass and a roof that was sturdy and thick with moss.
The door stuck a little when he pulled it, probably damp had got into the wood, but with a good tug it opened.
The cabin was just one room and empty save for a cast-iron stove in the far corner.
It was dusty and had cobwebs hanging from the rafters but otherwise Mats was happy that it could work very well for what he wanted.
He headed back to the jetty, making a careful note of the route he took back to the farmhouse so that he’d be able to retrace his steps to the right cabin.
It was going to take several trips back and forth, but first he needed to clean.
This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment plan, so he was sure he’d got everything he needed, including a broom.
Nothing he did was spur-of-the-moment, which was probably why he’d stuttered over getting Lotta’s number that first time they met.
He’d been planning this from the moment he’d invited Lotta to see the island.
If they stayed in Loddefjord with Ida for the weekend, he knew he’d come away feeling as if he’d hardly seen Lotta, and he wasn’t sure he could cope with Lotta having another sisterly interrogation so soon after Ingrid’s.
He tied a cloth handkerchief around his face as a makeshift mask, then began.
First, he threw the window open and propped the door ajar to get some air inside, then he swept the rafters and walls with the broom before sweeping the floor.
But it turned out that years of dust are not that easily removed, and the cabin filled with clouds of it, forcing him to stand outside to contemplate his next move.
He grabbed the bucket he’d brought with him and headed to the shore to collect some water from the fjord.
The water was icy, so he tried to dip the bucket in without getting his hands wet, then carried it back to the cabin and stood in the doorway, throwing the water out of the bucket and across the floor as best he could.
It did the job of settling the dust, but he needed another bucketful.
Once the floor was wet, he swept it again, feeling satisfied when he saw the brown colour of the water sloshing over the threshold.
He repeated the whole exercise, taking the broom to the fjord to rinse out in between, and after the third thorough sweeping, he was satisfied that the cabin was clean.
He walked back to the farmhouse where the old log store was still intact, for now at least, and still stacked half-full of logs that were decades old and Mats knew would make a good fire.
He carried an armful back to the cabin, wanting not only to warm the place up but to dry it out before he brought the rest of the things from the boat.
He piled the logs neatly by the front door, collected a few twigs from the ground outside and laid them in the stove.
He lit them, then went outside to check he could see smoke coming from the flue before he lit a proper fire.
It could easily be blocked after so many years.
But twists of smoke came out from the top, and there was a good draw, so he took a couple of logs inside and added them in. It would be dry in no time.
He sat on the step and poured a cup of coffee from the flask he’d brought with him.
Was there anything better than doing manual work like this that left you feeling fulfilled?
Yes, he had plenty of job satisfaction at work, but that was different.
The work he’d done this morning had a clear aim, and every bucket of water he fetched, every sweep of his broom took him closer to that.
At work, it was a very gradual, very hard-to-pin-down victory most of the time.
It took careful analysis over a period of time to prove whether a strategy had been successful, and Mats had a natural talent which is how he came to be where he was today, but it didn’t give you many moments where you felt like you were achieving anything.
After he’d finished his coffee and eaten a piece of cake that Ida had made, he could feel the heat from the stove coming through the door.
He took another couple of logs in to build the fire up and was pleased to see the floor drying out.
Before he took his cleaning supplies back to the boat, he wiped the window inside and out and then closed it to keep the heat in.
By the time he’d finished, it was mid-afternoon, and he’d turned an abandoned cabin into a cosy retreat for him and Lotta.
There were a couple of bright rugs on the floor, and a piece of fabric that he’d pinned up at the window and then clipped to one side to make a curtain.
The most expensive blow-up mattress he’d been able to find was inflated and made up with brand new bed linen.
There was a small wooden crate next to the bed with a modern rechargeable lamp in the shape of a mushroom, and on the other side of the room, a couple of old wooden chairs and a table that he’d pinched from a neighbouring cabin.
He stood back, grinning as he surveyed the cabin.
It was exactly as he’d imagined in his head, and he couldn’t wait to show Lotta.
He reached into his backpack and took out a small troll figure, one that Ida had rescued from the farmhouse, and placed it on top of the doorframe.
To Mats, it represented the first part of the island to be finished.
Lotta arrived back in Oslo on Tuesday the following week and stayed at Mats’ place as they’d planned. Her project seemed to be on track and she was out for most of the day having meetings with various people before they met in the evenings for dinner, or just to hang out at the apartment.
By the time he left work on Friday, he felt as if he’d been waiting forever for this moment to arrive.
Finally, he was going to take Lotta to the island.
The weather was on their side, so he was hoping the flight would run on time and that they could land in Bergen and still make it over to the island that evening.
It would be dark when they got there, but he hoped Lotta wouldn’t mind that.
He was desperate to spend the entire weekend on the island rather than just heading over for one day and night.
‘We’ll say hello and then head out,’ Mats said as they stood at the front door of the house in Loddefjord later that evening.
‘It’s a beautiful house, Mats.’ Lotta was excited about the weekend and perhaps less invested than he was about leaving here as soon as they could.
‘Hei!’ He called out as they walked into the hall.
‘Hei!’
They left their bags in the hallway and Lotta followed him through to the kitchen where Ida was seasoning a pan of something that smelled delicious, making his stomach rumble. He’d been so focussed on getting here, getting to the island, that he hadn’t factored in what they would eat tonight.
‘You must be Lotta,’ Ida said, smiling and coming over to them. She hugged Lotta which was quite out of character for Ida since they’d never met before. ‘I’ve heard all about you from Ingrid.’
It was a good sign if Ida had warmed to Lotta based on Ingrid’s report, and Mats relaxed a little.
‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ Lotta said. ‘Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious.’
‘I don’t know if we’ve got time to eat,’ said Mats.
Both of the women looked at him.
‘You’re seriously going over to the island now? In the dark?’ Ida said, in Norwegian.
‘We could go in the morning,’ Lotta said, her eyes pleading with him.
He could understand her reservation about going across the fjord in the dark. She wasn’t used to it like he was.
‘You speak Norwegian?’ Ida said to Lotta.
‘I understand it more than speak it,’ Lotta said. ‘My father’s half Norwegian.’
‘I’m sorry. I was trying to tell Mats he’s an idiot without you knowing.’
Lotta laughed and then so did Ida. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
Ida pointed to the cutlery drawer and asked her to set the table. ‘If you’re staying to eat.’ She raised an eyebrow at Mats.
Mats shrugged. ‘I guess we are,’ he said, and Ida and Lotta looked at each other and laughed again.
Mats couldn’t remember the last time his sister had laughed like that, and suddenly it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world to stay the night, even if it felt like the two of them were ganging up on him.
‘Mats has never brought a girlfriend home before,’ said Ida once she’d dished up and they were sitting around the table.
He groaned but smiled at his sister because he could see she was enjoying herself. Perhaps he’d let it be at his expense for now.
‘That’s not true. Maria used to be here all the time.’
‘You were fourteen! It doesn’t count.’
‘In that case, none of us have brought anyone home except for Fredrik,’ Mats said.
‘Sad but true,’ said Ida.
‘You’re not seeing anyone at the moment?’ Lotta asked her.
It was something he never talked about with his sister and he was curious to know what the answer was.
‘No. All the men around here are either happily married or I went to school with them. Maybe when we sell the house and I move somewhere else.’
Selling the house was a difficult topic that the five of them hadn’t sat down to discuss properly since their father died. He suspected the others felt as he did, that it was unfair to ask Ida to leave when she had been the main carer for their parents in their final years.
‘Sometimes the right person turns up when you least expect it,’ Lotta said wistfully.
Ida smiled at Mats, telling him she approved and it meant so much more to him than he’d expected. He felt stupid for thinking it was too soon to introduce her to Lotta. What had he been worried about?
‘So you’re actually going to stay on the island tomorrow night?’ Ida asked.
Mats nodded. ‘I’ve got everything set up.’ He didn’t want to give it away by describing it in too much detail before Lotta saw it. ‘We need to pack some food and water, that’s all.’
‘I love that you were thinking of going tonight. Had you even thought about food?’
‘I’ve thought about everything else,’ he said, defensively, feeling exactly like a teenager again in the face of Ida making fun of him.
‘It’s okay,’ Lotta said, squeezing his hand. ‘Can we pick some supplies up on the way?’
‘We can. We could take the boat into Bergen.’ It would make more of the trip to show her the city so it was a good change to their plan. ‘We could leave early and get coffee and pastries.’
‘That sounds perfect,’ Lotta said.
Later that night, they lay in the dark in Mats’ bedroom. He insisted she take the bed, and he made up a bed on the floor next to her for himself.
‘There’s enough room for both of us,’ she said.
He grinned into the dark because there was barely enough room for him in that bed when he was in it by himself.
‘You can’t survive for one night without me?’
‘I don’t want to. I miss you even though you’re right there.’
‘Scoot over then,’ he said, coming to lie next to her, on his side so that neither of them would fall out.
The noise she made into his chest once they were in each other’s arms was one of deep satisfaction, and he decided he was here for the night. How could he resist that? He could sleep some other time when he couldn’t be in Lotta’s arms.