‘They are. They’re so cute together. Since they retired they just rattle around the house following each other about, making endless cups of tea. Mum reads stories from the newspaper to Dad and he has a grumble about politics or whatever’s bothering him that day. And they cook together a lot. It’s nice.’
Stellan’s lips are smiling but there’s a dark look in his eyes. ‘Yeah, my parents never really had that kind of relationship. Dad’s always been kind of… distant. He worked most of the time when he was here, and when he wasn’t working he was worrying about work. Then his health forced him into early retirement and now he disappears on these long walks alone around Helsinki.’
I can see talking about his father is causing Stellan some pain, but I let him say it aloud, wondering if he’s ever voiced this stuff before.
‘I always thought my mother seemed lonely but I could never talk to her about it. She’s probably still lonely, even now,’ he says, brushing some imaginary fluff from his sleeve. ‘But my sister lives in Helsinki; she sees my parents a lot and helps out.’ I witness the little flicker of guilt cross his face. He gulps his drink.
‘You can’t be everywhere at once,’ I tell him. ‘Besides, you’re giving your all to this place, aren’t you? And that’s for them, right?’
He nods, but doesn’t answer, and is suddenly distracted by the buzz from his mobile on the floor beside him.
‘You should probably get that,’ I say, and am immediately rewarded by the sight of him reaching for his phone and turning it off without so much as looking at the screen.
‘The staff can manage without me for one day.’
He sounds breezy and resolute but I appreciate the effort that took. He carries on eating and I let myself be distracted by Toivo begging for some cheese, which I slip him. I’m realising now how lonely Stellan’s been, working here for years, trying to make his parents proud. There’s been a toll to pay for inheriting the resort.
‘Did you ever, um… have a girlfriend here, or… whatever?’ I tail off, not sure I should push him on this. But he knows all about Cole, so fair’s fair.
He hesitates at first, and when the words finally come, they’re slow and careful. ‘A few. The longest was Karin. She worked here the year after Dad had the stroke.’
He raises his eyes to mine with a hint of caution. Is he wondering if I really want to hear this stuff? I do, and kind of don’t, at the same time. He sees me (fake) smiling my encouragement and presses on.
‘Karin was a ski instructor. She stayed around when spring came, and she helped out in the hotel, because of me, but… I don’t know, I was busy running this place. I guess I wasn’t as present as I could have been. She went home to Stockholm.’ He gives a punctuating nod of his head, before adding, ‘Quite rightly.’
‘Ah, well, it couldn’t have been very serious if she left you here, could it? Maybe it was for the best.’ I’ve said it out loud before I realise how glib and crass it sounds. Stellan noticeably blanches and I want to shrink into a ball and roll under the sofa. ‘I don’t mean she didn’tlikeyou. I mean, she is only human, she probably thought you were some kind of Norse god made flesh…’Shut up, Sylve!‘What I meant was…’
‘It’s OK.’ Stellan laughs, letting me off the hook. ‘I didn’t look after her feelings so she left. And, you’re right, it wasn’t so serious… not compared to us.’
He’s looking right at me and I feel myself freeze. I want to say, ‘But you left me.’ Instead I’m left floundering, feeling my heart skipping beats all over the place and wondering how it’s possible this guy can give me this sudden jolt of hope and happiness at the same time as I’m remembering the sad, sinking emptiness of being dumped by him.
‘Sylvie?’ he’s saying.
I don’t know where to look or what to do, but it’s suddenly very warm here in front of the fire and I could do with some cold arctic air to clear my head.
‘Sylvie? Are you all right?’
I look at his face, all concern and what I’m hoping is regret, and I just know I’m going to say it. I can’t not. The words are already spilling out and I feel fat, stupid tears accompanying them.
‘Stellan, why did you leave me?’ God, this is hideous andnot at allwhat I had planned for our chilled out, one-off lunch date. I put my glass down, flattening my palms against the floor to stop it seesawing beneath me. ‘It’s not like I neglected you, or because I was working too hard, was it? I was there for you, one hundred per cent.’
‘You were there for me, youwere!’ Stellan’s suddenly kneeling in front of me, his plate of food abandoned beside him. His hands grab mine. ‘I didn’t leave because there was something wrong with you, or with us. I had to leave.’
‘Without telling me first?’ Oh no, I’m about to full on sob in his face, which is inching closer to mine. I feel his fingers sink into my hair, holding me as he focuses those light eyes on mine.
‘Do you remember how it was… at the end? We were always together, and we were getting closer and closer?’ he says.
I nod, but can’t speak yet. I think about those last few days, searing flashbacks to us in bed, kissing with flying sparks, and the feel of his skin against mine. ‘Why would you run away from that? It was perfect.Wewere perfect.’
‘We were. Those were the happiest days of my life. I wanted to stay so badly. I could have stayed there my whole life, kissing you.’
The strange tender pain of a teenage broken heart grips me again, as if I’m falling into a time warp. I feel the physical ache in my chest just as I did back then, except I’m not nineteen-year-old me, there is no hurriedly written note on my pillow, and Stellan’s not on a flight home. He’s right here in front of me, and I can’t think of any better way to numb the hurt than to pull him towards me and kiss him, so I do, and he lets me. For a few moments there’s just us and the magical unnamed thing that connects us.
‘Wait, wait.’ Stellan pulls away just as I’m tipping our weight so he’ll tumble on top of me onto the rug. ‘I can’t think when you’re kissing me. I can hardly breathe! I have to tell you what happened. I can’t kiss you like this.’
Nowhe wants to talk? If ever there was a time for silence,thisis it. His eyes are heavy and drowsy and I can see the fight in him to break away. He has the look of a scared sinner at the confessional, and he’s got red lipstick smeared over his mouth. I hand him a napkin and we both set to work wiping the greasy red stains from our faces.
He shuffles closer to the fireside, pulling me by the hand so I move over too, and he passes me my champagne glass again. I watch him take a deep breath that expands his chest and he exhales in a sudden heavy blow, getting ready to speak.
