Chapter 43
43
JANUARY 2018, DAY 1,661
‘Happy New Year!’ Cecilie giggled as she slumped onto the swing chair of her mother’s veranda. The tumble of snow from the sky had stopped and a chink in the clouds revealed a green beam arcing over the mountain behind the Wiig residence. The light of her mother’s en suite bathroom was suddenly switched off, making an illuminated rectangle disappear on the white lawn in front of her. Stars peeped through to brighten the inky sky, before retreating gallantly to let the aurora have her moment.
Cecilie narrowed her eyes and peered into her screen. Perhaps her vision was blurred but Hector didn’t look ready to party. His military cap was lowered and almost covered his eyes. ‘What does 2018 look like?’ Hector asked with a forced smile.
Cecilie turned her phone to face the dark snowscape of the front garden. Hector could just about make out the lights on the bridge, twinkles in the town beyond it on the other side of the harbour.
‘That’s what it looks like!’
‘Looks cold.’
‘I feel warm. ’
Cecilie’s Aperol-infused cheeks were so warm she didn’t feel the bite of the Arctic blast as it whipped across the Barents Sea and onto the veranda, where it started to push her swing. She had spent the evening at a private party at the Iskrembar. Abdi took over the kitchen and made a big vat of lamb stew served with lentils and muufo flatbreads. He created a special coconut and cardamom ice cream that was so tasty Grethe insisted it become a regular on the Iskrembar offering. Espen was working, but Morten popped in to say hi, and as midnight struck, Grethe whispered her secret to Cecilie and pressed both their hands to her stomach.
Hector was silent. He didn’t seem chatty, or excited about another New Year’s Eve of hedonism ahead of him.
‘The lights are on show,’ Cecilie said with pride as she turned her phone to the sky.
‘Oh, I can’t see them.’
Hector seemed polite and functional, his manner unusually brusque. There was no sign of his sparkle or his playful soul, which hadn’t ever had problems crossing two seas, a gulf and an ocean to get to her before.
‘Everything OK?’ Cecilie asked as she curled her legs underneath her on the swing chair. The breeze made it rock gently. Everything OK? was usually code for Are you alone? or Can we talk? but Hector didn’t have to answer her FaceTime call if he hadn’t wanted to talk. Cecilie started to feel frustrated.
‘Yeah, sure. Pilar’s out getting her hair done for the party.’
Cecilie’s heart sank and she put one boot on the decking to stop the swinging motion; it was starting to make her feel nauseous.
‘Where’s the party at tonight?’
‘Elias’s house. It’s gonna be a big one. ’
Saying it made Hector feel bad, so he looked out the window, away from the screen.
Double celebration.
Cecilie was thrown by the awkwardness and changed the subject.
‘Hey, I had some good news tonight. Grethe is pregnant!’
‘Wow,’ Hector replied flatly. ‘Great news.’
‘Not due until the summer, very early days, but gosh, I can’t believe I’m going to be an auntie. Well, of sorts…’
‘Congratulations.’ Hector removed his cap, ruffled his hair, then replaced it low, almost over his eyes again. ‘Hey, mira , I have news too.’
Cecilie suddenly sobered up. She pulled her knees in to her chest on the swing and pulled the phone closer in. Her vision didn’t seem blurred any more. She could see everything in Hector’s faraway face.
‘What is it, Hector? What’s wrong?’ She wished she could rise up out of the swing chair, float over the fjord, to half a world away so she could see him, touch his arm, look into his eyes.
‘I’m, erm…’
A shipping container tooted its horn on the harbour, wishing revellers a happy new year while drowning out Hector’s big announcement.
Cecilie laughed at the timing of it. She knew something terrible was about to happen, that her world was about to turn upside down. She almost appreciated the captain’s censorship.
‘What did you say?’
‘I’m, erm… I’m getting married.’
What?
‘We decided yesterday and we saw the priest this morning. We’ve booked the church. For March.’
Double celebration .
By the glare of the screen under the light of the aurora, Cecilie’s glassy green eyes filled and her pretty face crumpled. She turned the phone up to the sky so she could stifle and silence her cry. Tears tumbled, but no sound came out of her open mouth. She took a deep breath and looked back to her phone, at Hector’s warm brown skin, his sad cinnamon-flecked eyes, finally looking right back at her, lovingly, apologetically, pleadingly, cruelly.
And with that, Cecilie realised Hector didn’t have to see her cry, so she hung up.