Chapter Twenty-Three #2
I marched up to the Wi-Fi lounge and changed my flight again.
Another ￡200 up the swanny. I didn’t want to go back on the same boat as Mark, or on the same plane, or live in the same country.
The conniving bastard. Cheating good, hard-working people out of their livelihoods behind their backs.
I’d have to tell Tore myself. There was no way Mark would speak to him, and I couldn’t let them find out from a solicitor’s letter – it would be too late to do anything by then.
They needed to know as soon as possible to have any chance of fighting back.
My stomach churned as I made my way up to the farmhouse.
‘Sara! Back again even though you know our home is off-limits?’ Jonas said, languidly hanging off the door. ‘Hennyyyyy! Your girlfriend’s here!’ he called up the stairs.
‘I’m here to see Tore, actually.’
‘To ask for Henrik’s hand in marriage? I’m happy to speak on behalf of the family when I say – please, help yourself. You can take him with you right now.’
Henrik ran down the stairs, two at a time, his eyes wide and hopeful. ‘Hei,’ he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His hair was sticking up and his beard was soft and fluffy, neatly nestled into his Scandi jumper. He probably just called it a jumper.
‘Hei! I was hoping to have a word with Tore. Although, seeing as you’re both here, maybe you can join the conversation too? I’ve got something to tell you all.’
‘Sure, come in.’
Jonas and Henrik led the way through their dining room which obviously hadn’t seen any guests for a while.
An eight-seater glass-topped table with faded leather chairs, a hostess trolley from the nineties and a dusty sideboard with an enormous mirror.
Candles waiting to be lit sat in candelabras, next to a box of yellowing silver cutlery.
‘Ignore the mess. This is the quickest way,’ Henrik said, marching through and creaking the office door open.
Tore looked up from his paperwork. ‘Hei, boys. Sara! Is everything OK?’
‘Not really, no. I’m so sorry guys, I don’t know where to start.’
Jonas stayed in the doorway, ready to leave as soon as he could, and Henrik perched against the desk. ‘Take your time,’ he said, relaxed and calm as always.
‘I’m just going to say it. Mark didn’t come here for a holiday. He’s been sussing the place out for one of his clients. A venture capitalist group he works with is looking for land in Scandinavia and Mark is recommending they buy Firefly Forest and invest in the retreat.’
Jonas frowned. ‘And how would they do that, exactly?’
‘It’s not for sale,’ Henrik said firmly.
‘I know, but…’
‘Please thank him for the interest, but we aren’t looking for investors,’ Tore said with a smile.
I felt awful. The three of them were so unassuming and pure of heart, looking at me with their handsome, beardy faces and matching brown eyes. How was I going to make it clear that Mark was out to shaft them, whether they were open to it or not? I decided on the softly, softly approach.
‘He said something about the land belonging to someone else?’ I ventured.
‘And how the hell would he know that?’ Jonas snapped.
‘Owning land is a strange concept to us. What right does anyone ever have to claim space as theirs and theirs alone, on this planet we all share?’ Tore said. ‘We have a lifelong agreement with the Bakkens, which we are all happy with.’
‘Is it in writing? Sorry, just putting my legal hat on quickly, in case I can help.’
‘Do you mean a contract?’ I nodded. ‘No, we don’t need a contract.
I’ve known Bjorn my whole life. We were at school together and our great-great-grandfathers were the originators of the Firefly concept.
We are distant relations in fact, and the agreement has been in place for years. Before either of us were born.’
‘The retreat is part of a long line of Norwegian legacy, passed down through Bakken and Nilsen generations,’ Henrik said. ‘There’s no way Mark or any British investor would be welcome I’m afraid.’
‘Ain’t that the truth. Thanks for the heads-up though, ja?’ Jonas grabbed his coat and headed for the door. ‘I’m meeting Greta in the forest to map out the seating plan. Laters.’
‘Are you getting married here?’
‘Yes, they’re having a winter wonderland wedding.’ Henrik ruffled his hair. ‘Jonas is dressing up as a penguin, aren’t you, bro?’
‘Sure. With you as my best man, the Arctic fox.’
‘Fitting.’ Henrik laughed, as Jonas slammed the door.
I couldn’t bear the thought of his and Greta’s big day being ruined by Mark’s greedy plans.
‘Tore, have you spoken to Bjorn recently? Could you maybe give him a call and check in with him? I’d feel better knowing for certain he hasn’t heard from Mark.’
Tore beckoned me back into the office. ‘If it’ll help ease your mind, I’ll call him now.’
I held my breath as he dialled the number. Mark didn’t lie about money. Conversations were happening and the Nilsens were clearly the last to know.
‘Hei, Bjorn?’ Tore boomed into the phone. ‘Ja! I’m good, and you?’
He nodded along as they chit-chatted, sitting down at his desk.
‘I have an odd question for you, but have you heard of a guy named Mark Pearson?’
Tore listened intently for a couple of seconds, then mindful of me and Henrik stood staring, he put his phone on the desk and switched it to loudspeaker.
‘He said the lawyers would be in touch to smooth everything over with you before we spoke.’
‘About what?’
There was silence as Bjorn realised he’d dropped himself in it.
‘About the title deeds for the land. Why would you be phoning me if you did not know?’
Tore stopped in counter-shock. ‘We’d heard a rumour…’
Henrik butted in. ‘Hei, Bjorn. We didn’t believe it was true. You can’t sell the land from under us without any conversation about it. It needs two signatures, remember.’
‘Mark explained about the expansion plans and the ambition to monetise Firefly and make the most of what you Nilsens have going there. It sounds fantastic.’
‘Monetise Firefly?’ Tore whispered.
‘Optimise, bring it out of the dark ages. And I completely agree with him, with you all. The place needs a lot of investment and cleaning up. Firefly could make a fortune if it was in the right hands. I’d love to see it happen for all of us, Tore.’
‘You don’t think my hands are the right hands?’ Tore croaked.
‘Your hands have done fine work over the years, but we have to face reality. We are old men now. This isn’t my conversation to have, it’s for them to explain.
The investor – Mark – was very charming.
He said nothing will change for the worse.
You’ll all keep your jobs if you want them, and can stay in the farmhouse, if you want to, but with a lot more money to spend. You and me both.’
‘That’s very generous of you, Bjorn. To let us stay in the farmhouse my great-great-grandfather built. Our family home for six generations. How can you even consider a sale?’
‘Is it already agreed?’ Henrik asked, sharply. ‘What does Nina say about it?’
Bjorn sighed. ‘Less convinced but taking some time to think it through. It’s a lot of money, Henny.’
‘How much? Fifty pieces of silver?’ Tore shot back and Bjorn went quiet. ‘I didn’t think our family legacy was for sale.’
‘Don’t be an old dinosaur about it, my friend. None of us are getting any younger and it might be nice to retire before we’re dead, don’t you think?’
I sat quietly watching Tore’s face as it dawned on him what was happening. I couldn’t let Mark do this. It would break all three Nilsen hearts at once and ruin their family wedding.
‘Is there anything we can do at this stage to change your mind?’ I asked, gently. ‘Even if it’s just a chance for us all to discuss the situation in person, before any firm decisions are made.’
‘It isn’t all down to me of course. Nina needs time to consider the proposal as well.’
‘Can we at least all get together and talk face to face?’ I said, desperately trying to buy some time.
‘You know where we are, Tore. You are always welcome. Let me know when. Farvel.’ The phone went dead.
Tore put his head in his hands. ‘I always feared something like this might happen.’
‘There will be a way, Pappa. Don’t be upset.’ Henrik hugged him tight. ‘Nina will never agree to it. We’ll make Bjorn see sense together.’
Tore shook his head. ‘Not if he’s made up his mind. He can be a stubborn old goat. Money does strange things to people, Henrik. It changes them.’ I thought of the glint in Mark’s eye when he’d offered me a finder’s fee. As if that would make it OK.
‘This is all my fault,’ I said, miserably. ‘If I hadn’t come here, Mark would never have known it existed.’
‘There is no blame, Sara,’ Tore said. ‘Money-grabbers always find a way.’
‘Let me see what I can do – please. I have a lawyer friend in Bergen who might be able to help.’
Tore shrugged. ‘I imagine it’s too late, but you can try.’
‘Thanks Sara, but we’ll take it from here,’ Henrik said. ‘We just need some time on our own to figure out what’s going on. You understand.’
I nodded. I understood only too well.