Chapter Seven
Seven
I boarded the flight to Bergen with ten minutes to spare.
Old habits die hard, and I wasn’t one for hanging around in airports – get on the plane, get the job done and get home.
Like a legal hitman. Well, hitwoman. I’d spent my student years travelling up and down the country on the Megabus for a quid, and I didn’t fly anywhere until I was twenty-five.
My entire focus as a teenager was on getting into law school and any spare money I managed to scrape together went in the pot marked ‘fees’.
I started saving when I was fourteen after watching a particularly fascinating episode of Suits.
I decided there and then that I was going to be a barrister and that was all there was to it.
Mum and Dad helped me out as much as they could, but a career in law was expensive and it was my bill to pay.
It meant saying no more than yes to holidays, clothes and nights out at uni, but the delayed gratification had been worth it.
Now I was qualified, I could afford to do things properly, and I made damn sure I did.
Ahhh. Business class. One of life’s true pleasures. Or so people said. It had mostly been a necessity for me, so I could stay online, charge my phone and have enough space to work during the flight. The clock never stopped and Antony needed to allocate those fifteen-minute slots.
A stewardess dressed in navy with a big blonde bun came sauntering over with a tray of drinks, a huge smile plastered on her face. ‘Welcome on board, Ms Pearson. Champagne?’
‘Yes please!’ I said, taking two. Dr Fielding could do one.
I unwrapped my pillow and blanket and made a little hamster nest, then plugged my phone in, whipped out my laptop and connected to the Wi-Fi before remembering I didn’t need to do any of that this time.
I was pre-programmed to work when travelling on my own, and it felt alien to me that this time I couldn’t.
The flight was only two hours, but on Kat’s advice I’d popped a couple of CBD gummies and was already feeling warm and snoozy.
Medicating myself to force some chill. I planned to tick every treatment off the spa menu while I was there – I had a whole month to try them all, and they were bound to have all the latest therapies and techniques to keep the A-listers coming back for more.
Massages, facials, reflexology. I couldn’t wait to get in there and loll about.
Oil me up boys, then rub – me – down. I took a photo of my set-up, making sure the business class logo was visible in case Mark was watching, and posted it:
Seatbelt sign ON. Out of office ON. Time to take OFF. #TimeOff #TakingOff
*
I was off the plane and breathing in the fresh Norwegian air within ten minutes of landing. The sky was clear and blue, with stunning greenery in every direction as I clomped down the steps and onto the tarmac.
I felt healthier already. I jumped in a cab to the harbour and bought a ticket for the fjords trip that would take me to Firefly Forest. There was only one boat a day that did the route I needed, so I had to be on it.
The drive took over an hour and I much preferred the thought of arriving by boat.
I had some time to kill, but it was a relief to be in the right place and well ahead of time.
Bergen was beautiful. Bright and cold, with a rainbow of wooden buildings along the waterfront and a cable car taking people up and down the mountain. The sun felt hot on my face as I took a seat in one of the outdoor bars and slid my coat off.
‘Hallo!’ A gangly teenager with flawless skin called over. ‘Would you like to order something?’
‘White americano, please.’ It was nearly six, but I needed some caffeine. I was only halfway to heaven and there was so much more to see. I wanted to be awake for it.
‘Coming up!’ the waiter said with a shiny white smile.
How were the Scandis all so bloody gorgeous?
! They must have teeth brushing parties to pass the time instead of going to the pub.
Lots of running and swimming while brushing their teeth, then trekking up mountains in oversized skis – presumably to avoid paying for the chair lift. Nothing else made sense.
I finished my coffee and wheeled my cases down to the waterfront which was still and shiny, mirroring the shoreline. An old-fashioned riverboat with a waterwheel chugged into the harbour, cutting gently through the sea.
‘Is this the boat for Firefly Forest?’ I asked the girl on the dock as it parked in front of her.
‘Hei-hei! Ja we stop at Firefly. Are you booked in with Tore?’
‘Yes, under Sara Pearson. He’s expecting me.’
‘Excellent. I’ll let him know we have you,’ she said, the sun bouncing off her white-blonde hair.
Bergen was a small place. It made sense that everyone would know everyone else.
‘Jump on and make yourself at home. You can leave your bags there. Lars! Two cases, please.’ A salty sea dog with bright blue eyes grabbed my cases and hopped onto the boat, holding his hand out to help me.
‘Thanks,’ I said, pulling my sleeves over my hands to keep them warm.
An icy breeze whipped along the water, and it was a relief to get out of the wind and under cover, where the heaters were on full blast. I sat by the window and stared out at Bergen from the boat, with its pretty harbour, old buildings and narrow alleyways – so vivid and full of colour, it looked like a photoshopped spread from a holiday brochure.
The wooden huts on the waterfront, or Bryggen as it was famously known, stood gable to gable, smart and sharp in muted tones of red, yellow, orange and white.
Mother Nature provided a stunning view, with the mountains protecting the fjords on both sides like enormous steel gates, leaving half an inch in the middle for the boats to pass through.
The rock was its own work of art, the sheer size of it awesome to look at: dark grey and blue-black stone with a broccoli of moss covering the lower levels in a salad of different greens.
A sliver of turquoise then separated the two sides, the water sparkling in the sun.
All the beauty of the ocean, without the worry of a hungry shark snaffling me up for lunch.
Norway was an absolute vibe of nature and wholesomeness so far – and even better that I could admire it from the heated passenger deck, before I got to the hotel and ordered a cocktail.
The trip was billed as a sunset cruise to the South Rock Fjords, with a chance to spot puffins and whales, and there was a buzz of excitement as the seats filled up with silver-haired couples in waterproofs, carrying binoculars.
Two guys in orange jumpsuits walked past with tripods and helped each other carry them up onto the top deck.
There was a mass feeling of anticipation as people stared anxiously out the window, but I didn’t have that pressure – I was just hitching a lift and in desperate need of a martini.
I wondered if Emma Stone had got on this same boat when she came over.
Surely not. There must be a helipad at the airport to chopper in the elite.
Although I hadn’t seen it as an option when I’d booked.
The boat sounded its horn, belching bright white clouds up into the sky as it reversed out of the harbour.
Even the pollution looked clean over here.
And with the chocolate-box promenade of Bergen soon in the rear-view mirror, I was relieved to be on the final leg of my journey, gliding through the glassy water towards Firefly Forest.
A loud clicking interrupted my thoughts, and a lady started speaking over the Tannoy.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome on board this Bergen Ferries Wildlife Cruise. We are happy to have you with us today and will be keeping you updated on any animal activity we spot from the captain’s deck.
Please use your eyes to update each other also.
If you look starboard, to the right of the boat, we are passing a bearded seal.
There are plenty of seals in this region and people come from all over the world to photograph them. ’
There were lots of excited ooohs.
‘If we are lucky, we will see the puffins and maybe a walrus, and of course I know you are all hoping to see the whales. There are five different pods living in this part of the fjords, so I hope they come out to play with us today.’
The water didn’t look wide enough to hide one whale, let alone five different families. How was it possible not to see them? I imagined their massive bodies bobbing up to the surface against their will as they tried to hold their breath and hide.
‘And of course the wildlife on land is just as exciting as that in the ocean,’ her clipped voice continued.
‘Keep your eyes up and you will see the famous white-tailed eagles flying above us, and perhaps there will be an Arctic fox or two on the mountains. The reindeer and elk also graze at the edges of the forest. A common sight in Norway, but not so much everywhere else.’
I was following the route on Google Maps and could see my blue dot getting closer to Firefly Forest as a shriek sounded throughout the boat, and everyone stood up to see what was happening.
‘Whale!’ a little boy shouted, pointing out to sea. ‘Over there!’
There was an excited scupper and shouts of ‘where?’ and ‘I can’t see!’ as the boy pointed emphatically.
The Tannoy clicked back on. ‘Hello, everyone. We heard a call of whale and are looking to see if one of our animal friends is close by. We are using sonar radar, as well as our professional spotting telescope, which has a large, objective lens.’
The photographers were already clicking away, hoping to land that one shot that would make them a fortune should Moby Dick decide to leap out of the water.
‘We now have confirmation of the animal,’ she said, continuing the slow reveal.
‘And if you look to the left, by the pink buoy, you will see some disturbance in the water.’ The binoculars went up as everyone tried to see.
‘Around ten o’clock from the buoy. If you look very closely you can see a w…
walrus.’ There was a collective groan. ‘A fantastic example of a beautiful creature, I’m sure you’ll all agree. ’
It wasn’t even a full walrus. It was a break in the surface where we had to imagine a walrus was chilling underwater.
The photographers might have bagged themselves a photo of his nose and whiskers if they were lucky.
There were lots of disgruntled mutterings and one of the team was handing out sick bags.
The further we went, the bouncier the ride, and the roiling lurch of the boat was playing havoc with my stomach.
Lars appeared out of nowhere and flashed me a silver smile. ‘Your stop is next.’
I followed him down to the lower deck, out into the bitter cold, relieved to be on the move.
The wind rattled through the tarpaulin, ruffling up the blow-dry I’d managed to fit in before I left.
I could just about see as I shuffled forward, using Lars as a human shield.
Emma Stone couldn’t possibly have suffered all this.
‘Firefly ahoy!’ the girl shouted, getting her rope ready.
The boat edged towards a wooden jetty surrounded by conifer trees, and the soft scent of pine reminded me of Christmas.
A man stood waiting by the steps, bundled up in a fur hat and ski jacket, with his hands in his back pockets.
He watched as the rope unfurled in the air, then stepped forward to catch it.