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He narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re just making excuses for me.’
‘No, I’m not. You let her say goodnight to her mother, Aksel, she needs to do that. And you put the matches away, somewhere that should have been out of her reach.’
‘She did reach them, though.’
‘Well, you might be able to take part of the blame for that one. She takes after her father in being resourceful. I imagine she has all kinds of challenges up her sleeve...’
‘All right. You’re making me panic now.’
If he didn’t like that, then he really wasn’t going to like the next part. ‘You need to let her know, Aksel, that she mustn’t play with matches.’
He sighed. ‘Yes. I know. Her grandmother always told her off when she was naughty...’
‘Yeah, right. You can’t rely on her to be the bad guy now.’
Right on cue, Mette shifted fitfully in his arms, opening her eyes. ‘Papa, the fire’s out?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you save all the crocodiles, and the penguins?’ Mette was awake again now, and probably ready to play. Aksel’s face took on an agonised look, knowing that the time had come for him to be the bad guy.
‘Yes, the crocodiles and penguins are all fine. Mette, there’s something I have to say to you.’
Mette’s gaze slid guiltily towards Flora and she struggled not to react. Aksel had to do this by himself.
‘I love you very much, Mette, and you know that you can talk to Mama any time you want.’ He started with the positive. ‘But you mustn’t touch matches or light candles when I’m not there. And you mustn’t climb up onto cupboards either. You could hurt yourself very badly.’
A large tear rolled down Mette’s cheek. Flora could almost see Aksel’s heart breaking.
‘Is the fire my fault, Papa?’
‘No. It’s my fault. I didn’t tell you not to do those things, and I should have. But I want you to promise not to do them again.’ He waited a moment for Mette to respond. ‘You have to say it, please, Mette. “I promise...”’
Mette turned the corners of her mouth down in a look of abject dismay. Even Flora wanted to forgive her immediately, and she wondered whether getting to the North Pole had presented quite as much of a challenge to Aksel as this.
‘I promise, Papa.’ Another tear rolled down her cheek and Aksel nodded.
‘Thank you.’ Finally he broke, cuddling Mette to his chest. ‘I love you very much.’
‘I love you too, Papa.’
‘What was it you wanted to say to Mama?’ He kissed the top of his daughter’s head.
‘I forgot to tell her all about our house. And that I like my room...’
‘All right. We’ll go back to the clinic and find your candle. And you can tell Mama all about it.’
‘When?’
‘Right now, Mette.’
Mette nodded, satisfied with his answer, and curled up in his arms, her eyelids drooping again drowsily. Flora handed him the woollen blanket and he wrapped his daughter in it, leaving her to sleep. Finally his gaze found Flora’s.
‘Forget wrestling crocodiles. That was the most difficult thing...’
‘Have you wrestled a crocodile?’
‘Actually, no. Mette thinks I have, but that’s not as dangerous as it sounds because she thinks that her cuddly crocodile is a true-to-life representation. I tell her a story about crocodiles and penguins that I met when I was in the Andes.’
