Chapter Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
Tore put Oliver on loudspeaker so we could all hear what he had to say.
‘I won’t sugar-coat it,’ he said, clear as a bell.
‘The land registry has Bjorn and Nina Bakken listed as sole owners of Firefly Forest and legally it is theirs to sell.’ Jonas screeched his chair back and stomped over to the window.
‘We are therefore looking at three possible scenarios as far as the law is concerned. Option one, you find the covenant to prove the arrangement currently in place is legally binding in perpetuity. In that scenario any sale or changes to the agreement would need to be signed by both parties. If there is no proof of covenant then option two could be that you reach a financial arrangement with the Bakkens direct and draw up something legally binding between you. Option three – they sign with Mark Pearson’s investors, whoever they are, and you become sitting tenants and subject to whatever terms Bjorn and Nina agree as part of that deal. ’
‘FUCK!’ Jonas shouted.
‘Calm down,’ Henrik said. ‘We just need to find that damn agreement.’
‘I’ve looked everywhere!’ Tore said, exasperated.
‘Have any of you ever seen it?’ I asked. ‘Do you know what you’re looking for?’
The three of them shook their heads.
‘Pappa always said it was a promise etched in stone, and I’d never need to worry about it,’ Tore said. ‘What an idiot not to have something that proves this place is ours. We have just as much right to claim the land as the Bakkens do.’
Oliver cleared his throat, and we all looked down at the phone. We’d forgotten he was there.
‘I’ll leave it with you,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘If you find anything send it through.’
‘Bye, Oliver, thank you so much!’ I trilled, trying to keep the vibe up while the others stared despondently into space.
‘Ha det!’ And he was gone.
‘We need to look again,’ Henrik said. ‘We have to believe it’s here somewhere.’
‘Pappa would know if it was here,’ Jonas snapped. ‘Face it, Henrik, we’re fucked.’
‘I can help too, if you need another pair of eyes.’
‘Thank you, Sara, you are very kind to offer,’ Tore said gratefully.
‘Why don’t you and Henrik check the attic?
We are searching for a needle in a haystack, but if there are two of you up there, it will be easier.
Jonas – you and I will go through Besta’s chest again.
My tired old eyes may have missed it. And I’ll check the office and the safe and some of the other places your mother used to put our important things. ’
‘Great idea,’ I said. ‘Could it be with your passports or your banking information?’
Jonas cocked his ear up at that. ‘Do not tell her where we keep our banking stuff. What exactly are you trying to pull here, Sara?’
‘Nothing! I just feel so responsible and I’m trying to help you think through where it might be.’
‘Jonas!’ Henrik glared at his little brother. ‘That’s enough.’
‘What? For all we know, she’s in on it too. Mark is her husband after all. They could be a pair of con artists working together.’
The idea that the Nilsens might suspect me as a thief broke my heart.
I could see where Jonas was coming from, though, and his anger was totally justified.
If it was happening to my parents, I’d be just as furious and suspicious.
All I could do was stand there and hope I could somehow magic up a solution.
Would Mark listen to me if I appealed to his good nature?
Could I blackmail him with a sex tape? (There was no sex tape.) And if there was he’d have no issue with me releasing it to my seventy-eight followers on Instagram.
Strutting around like a peacock with nothing to hide.
‘Jonas, relax,’ Tore said. ‘Sara isn’t the enemy here.’
‘Come on,’ Henrik said, leading the way upstairs.
In another reality, I’d be following him into the bedroom, and I got a burst of butterflies just thinking about it as I skipped up the stairs.
The attic was weirdly clean and virtually empty, a carpeted space with six big boxes stacked neatly on top of each other.
Maybe it was me who should be worried – whose attic looked like this?
‘This is very… tidy,’ I said, opening the first box and eyeing the piles of paper. ‘Where are all the spider’s webs? And piles of crap?’
‘Pappa likes to keep things organised. Even more so since Mamma died.’
‘Do you think it’s in here somewhere?’
Henrik shrugged. ‘There’s as good a chance as any. We’ve got to at least try, right?’
‘I suppose. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll give it a go.’
We each took a box and got to it, sifting through all the random pieces of the Nilsen family history that had been preserved over the years. Anything I was unsure of went into my miscellaneous pile as we worked through the boxes one by one.
‘Peace offering?’ Jonas called, waving a flapjack through the hatch.
‘How many have you got?’ Henrik asked. The hand disappeared and came back with a plate of four. ‘Yes. You may enter.’
He popped up and pushed two coffees in our direction. ‘Keeping it very methodical up here,’ he said, looking at the two of us working diligently through the papers.
‘I like to be organised – it’s my lawyer brain.’
‘And Henrik’s a control freak.’ He chuckled. ‘You’re well matched.’
‘Jonas only has two settings in life: slob or sloth,’ Henrik mused, scanning through one of the papers. ‘He doesn’t understand what it means to be ordered and meticulous.’
‘You’ve missed out chef, drummer, skipper. Lots of precision needed for all those. Don’t be pissed at me, bro, I’m stressing about the wedding.’
Henrik gave him a long, cool look.
‘Listen, Sara, I’m sorry about earlier,’ Jonas said, offering me a flapjack. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I know you’re only trying to help.’
‘I accept your apology and your delicious-looking peace offering.’
‘I’m worried about Pappa, and where we’re all going to live. But mostly I’m worried about the wedding.’
‘We know, Jonas. You’ve mentioned it a few hundred times. Have you told Greta, yet?’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t even think about it. I’m hoping it will somehow get sorted before I need to. There’s no point worrying her unnecessarily.’
Greta was lucky to have a man whose first thought was to shield her like that.
Mark had always shared any and every problem with me – no matter how stressed out it made me.
I sometimes wondered if he enjoyed seeing how far he could push me before I cracked.
A real-life game of Buckaroo. Just one more tiny weight on my shoulder, then watch me crumble.
Jonas slowly ate his flapjack while the two of us worked. ‘A smidge too much honey,’ he said, looking at it carefully. He took another bite and sucked in his cheeks to taste. ‘Any sign of anything?’
‘Not yet, but we’ve still got two boxes to go,’ Henrik said. ‘Are you sure it’s not in Besta’s chest?’
‘One hundred percent sure,’ Jonas said. ‘I’ll leave you to finish up here. Holler if you find Wonka’s last golden ticket.’
‘Will do,’ Henrik said, barely lifting his eyes.
We kept going, trawling through page after page. I put a playlist on and Henrik nodded along to it every now and then, mouthing the words to himself.
The family photos were beautiful, but nosing through them was clearly outside the remit of the task.
Henrik had his mum’s cheeky smile and dimples, and there were hundreds of pictures of the four of them: skiing, swimming, climbing trees, playing tennis.
A happy, healthy, outdoorsy family who clearly adored each other.
The two boys were a melting pot of their parents, with Audhilda’s sparkling brown eyes and Tore’s dark blond hair.
Henrik caught me looking at one of the photos for a little too long.
‘Sorry,’ I said, putting it down and moving on to the next pile.
‘Show me,’ he said.
I turned the photo round and almost heard his heart break as he looked at it.
The four of them stood in front of a Christmas tree, Henrik and Jonas each holding up a ski while Audhilda and Tore beamed into the camera.
No wonder all the memories had been packed away so tightly.
They were still too devastated to share them. Of course they were.
Henrik smiled sadly. ‘I was twenty-one in that photo. My first pair of touring skis.’
‘Such a cute picture. Do you want to keep it out and get it framed?’
‘I want to get them all framed. They shouldn’t be up here gathering dust and getting ruined.’ He yawned and rubbed his eyes. ‘I’ve got pins and needles.’
‘Well, I’m done. My boxes were mostly books and photos, a few paintings you and Jonas did when you were little. Some other bits and bobs. This is the pile of randomness I couldn’t work out.’
‘Cool, let’s have a look,’ Henrik said, taking it from me.
‘I wasn’t sure with all the Norwegian, but then why would it be in there? You wouldn’t put something as important as that covenant in a box of old school reports.’
‘No idea, but if it’s not in any of the places it should be, it must be someplace where it shouldn’t.’
‘If it exists,’ I said, starting to doubt the whole thing. It was late, and I’d been sat on the floor for too long. I’d have to launch myself headfirst down the stairs at this rate.
Henrik was immersed in the final pile, speedily scanning each page.
‘No, no, no,’ he muttered, placing each document back in the box once he’d checked and rejected it.
I thought about sending Mark a message while I had Wi-Fi, but the damage was done.
If he pulled out now, Bjorn would find another buyer.
Mark had meddled with the status quo and a seismic shift would now have to happen one way or another.
Henrik was still and studious as he carefully checked every last detail of every page, a tiny frown on his face.
Another no went in the box as he picked up the next, which had a manila envelope paperclipped to the back.
He opened it and unfolded the paper inside, his eyes flicking back and forth, working overtime.
There was no point me sitting watching him. ‘I think I’m going to head back…’
‘Hang on,’ he said, his frown deepening as he read. ‘I’ve found something.’
I opened my eyes wide. I sat completely still on my numb bum, in case I jinxed it.
‘Have you? Have you found it?’
‘I don’t know…’ he said, still scanning. ‘It’s a handwritten letter that mentions it.’ He flicked to the second page and then the third. ‘Oh. Hang on. There’s something more official looking attached to it. And it’s signed.’
‘Oh. My Godddddd!!!! Is it IT?’ I crawled over to have a look.
‘Yes! Two signatures – a Bakken and a Nilsen. This is it, Sara! This is IT!’
We screamed with excitement and stood up, hitting our heads on the ceiling.
Laughing and hugging, relief palpable as it flooded through us both.
Henrik pulled back and kissed me on both cheeks.
Then I kissed his cheeks, and our celebration kiss turned into a full-on snog, just as Jonas popped his head up.
‘Sorry!’ he shouted, bobbing back down. ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything.’ We stopped, flustered and breathless, staring at each other. I wasn’t sure how that had happened, but I’d been enjoying it and didn’t want it to stop.
‘What are you screaming about?’ Tore yelled. ‘Come down here.’
‘I’ve found it!’ Henrik shouted, his eyes hot and hungry. ‘Actually, Sara found it and I translated.’
Jonas popped back up again. ‘You’re shitting me.’
‘Come down immediately!’ Tore shouted again. Jonas reversed down the ladder and Henrik followed, waving the letter in the air like a winning lottery ticket. Which was exactly what it was.
The four of us sat around the kitchen table, red-faced and excited for different reasons.
‘Read it out then,’ Jonas said.
20th February 1842
My dear friend Ivan,
Today is a blessing for both our families.
The day my daughter marries your son, and the Bakken and Nilsen clan become one.
In honour of this occasion, I want to put in writing our agreement on the future of Firefly Forest. It is a magical place that gives solace and healing to all who visit.
My family have owned the land, and your family have worked the land, for generations, and the forest is part of the dowry that will forever belong to our descendants. The covenant attached makes this so.
Yours,
Aksel Bakken