Page 60 of Entwined in Norway

‘Okay, a house. In the centre of Bergen.’

‘Garage?’

She thought about everything she’d want to keep from the house. It was one thing deciding to sell it; she wasn’t sure she’d be able to part with everything inside it at the same time. ‘Yes. For storage.’

‘A couple of bedrooms?’

‘At least.’

‘Here, look.’

It was a large list, cheapest to most expensive, and of the cheaper ones, Ida was surprised to find a few in her price range.

‘That’s part of what stopped me from looking, assuming I could only afford an apartment. That one looks lovely.’ She pointed at the listing for an older style house with two bedrooms but all the rooms were spacious and it had a basement. The horizontal wooden cladding was painted bright yellow with white on the corners and the edge of the roof. ‘It’s not right in Bergen but Sandviken is nice.’

‘It needs some work,’ Erik said. ‘But it’s the kind of house I imagine you living in.’

‘I can get Mats to help. I’m going to make an appointment to view it.’

Erik tapped away. ‘I’ve sent you the link.’

‘Thank you. I don’t know why I hadn’t looked for myself.’

‘Because it’s a big step towards moving on. You haven’t been working at the hotel for long. It’s good to spread this stuff out.’

Suddenly sleepy after the hike and the wine, Ida turned over and pushed her back into Erik’s front, spooning into him and trying not to think that there were fewer and fewer times this could happen before he left.

‘Night Ida.’

‘Night Erik.’

In the morning, with sudden clarity, Ida woke and remembered the torn letter she’d found when she and Becca had been sorting through everything that had been cleared out of the farmhouse before they started work on the hotel. As well as her own family name of Larsen, there was another name on that letter. She couldn’t remember what it was, but she was quite sure it hadn’t been Anderson, although that was a Norwegian surname so perhaps she’d just forgotten.

She left Erik sleeping and went outside onto the veranda to text Mats.

Ida: Are you at home? Can you find that torn piece of paper we found? I need to know the other name.

It was several minutes before she received a reply.

Mats: Olsen. Why?

Ida: I’m not sure. Something Erik said about his family research. Thanks.

Mats: You think it’s to do with that letter?

Ida: I don’t know yet. Maybe.

She felt uneasy. She needed to talk to Erik about it, but now, with Thea in the room next door, it didn’t seem like the right time. It could wait until they got back to Bergen.

Ida made coffee for them all and left the pot on to keep it hot while she sat on the veranda and sipped hers. She gazed, unseeing, across the valley, thinking that she should have asked Mats to send her a photo of the letter. What little she remembered of it was that it was almost impossible to understand what it had said, since the writing was so old and it was torn in half. But she remembered warning Mats about the possibility of someone having a claim to the island.

But Erik was an Anderson, not an Olsen. That felt like something to cling to.

‘Morning,’ he said, coming outside with his own coffee. ‘Want a top-up?’

‘No, I’m good, thanks.’ She smiled, and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head before sitting in the chair next to her.

‘I slept so good.’