Chapter Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Seven
‘I’ll translate,’ Ethel said as the registrar stood and opened her book.
Greta looked at Jonas with big eyes and repeated everything the registrar said.
‘I pledge my love and loyalty to you,’ Ethel whispered. ‘As enduring as the mountains and as deep as the fjords.’
How beautiful.
‘With this oath ring, I vow to stand by your side, through storm and calm, now and forever.’
They kissed and then Greta put his wedding ring on the wrong hand.
Eek! Third finger left hand I telepathically communicated, hoping the registrar would correct the situation before there were any awkward laughs.
But she didn’t. She went straight on to Jonas, who had tears in his eyes and had stopped to take a breath.
Henrik put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Jonas struggled through his vows, smiling with relief once he got to the ring. Which he also placed on the wrong hand.
‘Left hand,’ I whispered to Ethel, thinking she was in the best position to intercept. The marriage might not count if the ritual was wrong.
‘What? No, it’s right.’
‘The ring should be on the left hand,’ I insisted, trying to help.
‘Not for us,’ she whispered, holding up her wrinkled right hand, a gold band firmly wedged on the third finger.
I stopped, surprised. Well, that was as good a reason as any to marry a Norwegian. My English wedding finger was far too sensitive to have another ring on it anytime soon. Possibly ever.
The registrar said something in a loud jolly voice and Jonas dipped Greta down for a glamorous Hollywood kiss. I couldn’t help but have a little tear at that myself, as everyone cheered and Tore launched into ‘Romeo and Juliet’ by Dire Straits.
The new Mr and Mrs Nilsen danced their way down the aisle, smiling and waving and kissing. Henrik ushered the little bridesmaids out in front of him, blowing Ethel a kiss as he walked past, and Greta’s mum and dad linked arms to complete the bridal party.
‘I loved that,’ I said, relieved that I’d survived the ceremony without having a breakdown. ‘What a gorgeous couple.’
‘They are very much in love. And now it seems Henrik is smitten, too.’
‘Does it?’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him blow a kiss to anyone in his whole life.’
‘That was to you, Ethel, surely.’ She looked at me, archly. ‘Wasn’t it? To both of us then.’
‘I know my nephew, and public displays of affection are not his thing,’ she said.
We followed the crowd to a second clearing in the woods, where three giant tipis had been erected.
Two were packed with long trestle tables and decorated with fairy lights and flowers, and the third was a bar, with a dance floor and soft seating.
The floor was covered in cowskin rugs and a table of champagne greeted us.
I took two glasses and followed Ethel as she strutted with her stick towards the biggest of the chairs and flopped herself down.
‘Champagne for the lady,’ I said, offering her a glass.
‘Not for me, thank you, I don’t drink anymore.’
‘Oh, sorry, shall I get you something else?’
‘Not for now – you’re OK.’
There weren’t any tables close by, so I stood there like a lemon, double parked, and tried to drink one of the champagnes as quickly as possible, so I didn’t look like an alcoholic.
‘My two favourite ladies.’ Henrik appeared with a big smile and kissed Ethel on both cheeks. ‘One who is obviously very thirsty.’
‘It’s a special occasion,’ I said with a shrug as he kissed me too.
I didn’t mind being champagne-shamed, but two small kisses weren’t enough.
I felt drawn towards him and had to control myself as his aftershave swept over me.
The scent reminded me of our game of naked Twister the night before.
Our bodies touching as we pretended to concentrate.
Henrik’s attempt at left hand, red, had been our undoing and we’d collapsed in a heap of giggles, with me on top, just how he likes it.
‘It is a special occasion,’ he said, repeating it back to me and staring into my eyes.
‘OK, OK, I think we’ve established that,’ Ethel said, rolling her eyes.
‘Sorry, tante,’ Henrik said, kissing her hand. ‘Oh, Sara, did you know Oliver is here? He caved when Jonas and Greta sent the third invitation. Over there, by the bar.’
‘Yes, Ethel told me earlier.’ I followed his gaze to where Oliver was holding court, short and round and laughing loudly. ‘Excuse me for a minute while I go and say hi.’
I made my way over and tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Guess who?’
‘Hmm… English, female, expensive perfume – Sara! I’d recognise that voice anywhere. How are you?’
I gave him a big hug. ‘All the better for your help. Thank you so much for coming to my rescue with this place.’
‘Anytime. Have you had chance to consider my proposal?’
‘I have, and I’m interested if the offer’s still open?’
‘Well, that’s wonderful news! Why don’t we set up some time to chat while you’re over here – maybe tomorrow?’
‘Perfect.’
*
‘Oliver is such a sweetheart. I haven’t seen the table plan yet – am I sitting next to him?’
‘No. You’re sitting next to me. With Aunt Ethel on my other side.’
I blushed, taken aback. ‘I can’t sit on the top table with all the family – people will wonder who I am! I’m fine hanging out with Oliver – I don’t want to be in the way.’
‘You’re not in the way; you’re my guest. And nobody will wonder who you are, because I’ve already told everyone the beautiful girl from London is with me.’
I blushed even harder at that. He pulled me in and kissed me on the lips. ‘Isn’t she beautiful, tante?’
‘Very,’ Ethel agreed. ‘And a force to be reckoned with. It’s a miracle you managed to sort out that situation with Bjorn. He had dollar signs in his eyes.’
‘It came down to the covenant in the end,’ I said. ‘The paperwork was legally binding so there was nothing they could do about it. Although, I do agree with Bjorn that this place could be making you all a lot more money.’
‘I feel for Nina and Bjorn,’ Henrik said, nodding over at them in the crowd. ‘We should find an investor and buy them out. They don’t have anyone to pass the covenant down to and they deserve to enjoy their retirement.’
‘I’ve been giving the situation some thought as it happens,’ Ethel said conspiratorially.
‘You know how much I love this place; I’ve been coming here for years.
And I’ve noticed it getting increasingly tired, while you try and keep it affordable.
I don’t have any children either, so all my money will go to you and Jonas in the future, Henny, but it could make sense to buy out Bjorn and Nina with it instead, then gift you their half of Firefly Forest. That way we keep the retreat forever, and I leave a legacy behind from the Balke side of the family too – your mother would have liked that. ’
Henrik was welling up. ‘That is an incredibly kind thought, tante, but we can’t ask you to do that.’
‘You haven’t asked. I’m offering. And I like the idea of my money spreading future good in the world.’ Ethel gave Henrik a kiss on the cheek. ‘I will want one thing though,’ she said.
‘Anything,’ Henrik said.
‘A tree planted for me.’
Henrik smiled. ‘Done.’
‘We can discuss it another day with Tore, Jonas and Greta,’ Ethel said. ‘Let’s enjoy today for now, and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.’
‘An excellent mantra,’ I said as Tore made an announcement in Norwegian, and everyone bustled through to the dining tents. ‘Can I come with you two, seeing as we’re seat buddies?’
‘And the rest,’ Henrik murmured in my ear as he led the way.
It was a room full of happiness and joy, and I felt privileged to be part of it – even more so to be sitting at the top table.
I waved at Greta’s parents as Tore took to the mic to welcome the bride and groom, and the tipis vibrated with clapping and whooping as Jonas and Greta made their entrance.
‘Is it a vegan wedding?’ I asked Henrik as we all sat down.
‘I hope not. Jonas is a hardcore carnivore.’
‘Is he?’ I said, surprised. ‘Greta too? The whole vegan thing is an act?’
Henrik smiled at me. ‘It’s not an act – it’s part of the offering for the retreat.’
‘You watched me suffering through asparagus stew, while you were stuffing down sausage rolls up at the farmhouse? No wonder it was out of bounds for guests,’ I said, swigging my champagne.
‘Yes, sausage rolls day and night – a top Norwegian snack.’
‘Hei, Sara,’ Greta called, waving down the table.
‘You look so beautiful!’ I shouted. ‘Congratulations!’
An army of groovy-looking waiters, with imaginative moustaches surrounded the tables with small plates. They were wearing three-piece tweed in claret and looked like a foodie flash mob, putting on a show.
‘God ettermiddag!’
‘Good afternoon,’ Ethel said, giving me a wink.
Our waiter had a blond handlebar moustache and mischief in his eyes. ‘To start we are having a Nordic shrimp toast, with rye kernel and tarragon salad,’ he said, while two other waiters did the rest of the top table.
‘Takk,’ Henrik said, then leant in and whispered, ‘Jonas went to chef school with these guys. They own a restaurant in Copenhagen and their food is unbelievable.’ He tucked in and did an A-OK sign, his leg wrapped around mine under the table, our chairs as close as they could be.
There was no mistaking our body language.
The starters were melt-in-the-mouth delicious and so were the main courses. I’d been unsure about roasted reindeer with pickled herring dumplings, but it was a taste sensation.