Page 13 of Entwined in Norway

The reception desk was unmanned, but there was a note on there saying to call a number, day or night, if you needed anything. A beer didn’t seem enough of an emergency to resort to calling the number. He carried on through to the dining room and found Pål.

‘Hey, is there any chance I could get a beer?’

‘Of course. Any preference?’

‘Something local and cold?’

‘No problem.’

He disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a can of beer from the Oslo Brewing Company and a glass.

‘Thanks. What’s with these weird little figurines I keep seeing?’ Erik had noticed one in his bedroom, and there was one in here too. He nodded towards the mantelpiece.

Pål laughed. ‘There used to be an enormous collection of them right here in this room when the family lived here. Every room has one.’

‘But what are they?’

‘They’re trolls.’

Erik had come across trolls before, the ones who were little pink naked dolls with crazy fluffy hair. These were not those. ‘They look different to the trolls I’ve seen. Like the ones in the movie.’

‘Ah, yes. These are proper Norwegian trolls. There are stories about them. Like fairy tales. They are very traditional.’

‘Okay. Good to know. Thanks for the beer.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Erik went out onto the veranda and chose a chair around the corner which gave him a view of the fjord through the trees. It was so quiet. He sipped his beer and started reading, but kept realising that he wasn’t taking in the words on the page. His mind was wandering onto all sorts of other things, not least Ida and the trolls.

Once he’d finished his beer, it wasn’t long before he closed his eyes for a moment and drifted off, the book open on his chest, dreaming of trolls.

7

The following morning, Ida was at the reception desk checking the computer for the list of jobs she had made for today. There was everything from buying a new mattress because a guest had somehow tipped a bottle of red wine over theirs, to finalising the new area of the website that had the shuttle boat times on.

She’d hoped to run into Erik Anderson this morning but he hadn’t come down for breakfast yet. Perhaps he was jet-lagged. Perhaps he was taking another ill-advised swim in the fjord. Their encounter yesterday had been interesting. Maybe a step on the road to getting to know each other better. There had been a hint of humour behind his words, but without knowing him better, it was hard to be sure.

And now, in lieu of seeing him in person, she was back to googling him before she started on her to-do list. She started where she’d left off yesterday and quickly discovered that his career had been ended by a freak accident with a skier. Only eight months ago. Maybe he’d come here to find himself. It didn’t mention what he was doing now. There was no information more recent than the accident, which had been covered extensively by the Canadian media. He really must have been a superstar.

His Instagram feed was much the same. No posts since mid-October last year. Not even a thumbs-up from his sickbed. But then, if it was a career-ending accident, it was hard to be upbeat about any part of that.

Ida felt for him. She had some experience of what it was like to have your life derailed, although for her it had been more of a choice. Choosing to care for her parents when her mother became sick meant she’d given up a successful career in systems management, but at the time she’d thought it would be a pause rather than the end. But time got away from her, and when she could have gone back to it, she realised her priorities had changed. The challenge of the corporate world held no appeal. The slower pace of life she’d adopted over the past few years was ingrained now, and she wasn’t sure she was capable of anything else.

‘Ida, they’ve missed the flour off the delivery today.’ Heidi poked her head out of the kitchen. ‘I can’t spare anyone.’

‘No problem, leave it with me.’ Most days involved something like this, and that was exactly why she loved this job. The variety of tasks and the problem-solving required were just the right amount of challenge.

She closed her browser window and called the wholesaler, who confirmed that they had indeed forgotten to load the flour and that, even though it was their fault, couldn’t do anything to help other than add it onto the next day’s delivery.

She called Mats, hoping he was still at home and could swing by and pick the flour up and bring it with him when he came over later that morning.

‘Sorry, Ida. Lotta and I have an appointment to see a house this morning. We’re there now. I won’t make it to the wholesaler before they close. Can you get the flour to the shuttle boat somehow?’

It was in the middle of this phone call that Erik appeared in front of her. He seemed agitated, perhaps because he was being made to wait. Ida covered the phone briefly and whispered, ‘I’m so sorry. I won’t be a moment,’ before continuing to talk to the wholesaler about the possibility of them dropping the flour off at the quayside.

The rest of the call couldn’t have taken more than thirty seconds, by which time Erik looked cross.

‘How can I help you?’ Ida said with her best smile. Because he might look angry, but he was gorgeous, and she’d never known a smile and calm manner not to disarm someone who was about to let rip.