‘May I play sous chef and help you with dessert?’ he asked, his eyebrows waggling and making her laugh. She hadn’t seen this playful side of him before, and she liked it, although part of her wondered if it was the two bottles of wine he and his friends had consumed.
‘It’s just a very simple Kvæfjord cake,’ she said. ‘Have you had one before?’
Harrison shook his head. ‘I can’t say I have, but then I’ve been woefully inept at learning your language while I’m here, so I may well have eaten it without recalling the name.’
‘It’s what you would call a sponge cake, with meringue, vanilla cream and almonds,’ she said. ‘We call it the world’s best cake, and it was seeing my great-grandmother that reminded me of it. When I was very young, Amalie used to make it on special occasions for us. My brother and I always asked for it on our birthdays, and I’ll never forget when my mother left, Amalie turned up with this cake.’ Charlotte turned around and took the lid off the cake stand so Harrison could see it. ‘She came every Sunday with one after that, and even though my father told her to stop, she kept doing it for years, almost as if it was her way of showing us how much she loved us.’
‘Is that where you get your love of cooking from?’ he asked.
Charlotte laughed as she took a knife and cut the first slice of cake. ‘Most definitely not. I think she spent her entire life perfecting her cake, but she had very little interest in cooking meals. We always joked that she hated being in the kitchen, which was unusual for a woman of her generation, and I have to confess that my first hire will be a pastry or dessert chef.’
Harrison reached over and swiped the first slice, immediately sliding his fork in and tasting it.
‘This is great,’ he said, his eyes widening as he went back for another mouthful. ‘I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.’
She laughed and dished up three more plates. ‘This is the kind of cake I’d serve at home to dinner party guests. I’m not sure it’s refined enough to serve here, although perhaps it could be available for room service, in case guests want a taste of home.’
When Harrison looked up from his plate, she noticed that he had a dash of cream caught in the corner of his mouth. She setdown the two plates she was about to carry over to his friends and reached out, carefully catching it on the tip of her finger.
Harrison’s eyes met hers then, and she found it hard to breathe as her hand hovered, not wanting to pull away from him just yet. But this time it was her, not him, who turned away.
He had a wife. The words echoed through her mind, impossible to ignore.
Hadnothas, she told herself. Hehada wife.
‘Come on,’ she said, taking two plates and indicating for him to carry the other. ‘Let’s go and have dessert.’
‘Charlotte,’ Harrison said, his hand falling over her forearm and almost making her drop the plates. ‘I was thinking, have you ever thought about going to the hotel Amalie talks to you about? The one at Sognefjord?’
‘Have I?’ she repeated. ‘Well, I mean, yes, because I recall it from my childhood and would like to see it again, but?—’
‘It’s come to my attention that I’ll be a national embarrassment if I don’t see the sights before I go home, and I promised Luke and Louisa that I’d show them around. Any chance you want to play tour guide again?’
Charlotte swallowed. Hard. His hand against her skin, his eyes on hers, the shake of her hand as she tried to keep hold of the plates…If only his friends hadn’t told her, she wouldn’t be feeling as if she were betraying someone who wasn’t even there.
‘Tell Daniel you can start next week,’ he said. ‘It’s been a long time since I had a vacation, and I could really do with a few days away. If I’m not being presumptuous?’
She should have told him she’d think about it. She should have told him that there were reasons she didn’t want to go back there. But instead, Charlotte found herself nodding.
‘Sure,’ she replied. ‘I’d love that.’
18
THE MAJESTETISK HOTEL, SOGNEFJORD, NORWAY, 1950
Amalie’s heart ached as Oskar held her hand in both of his, pressing kisses to her knuckles. She’d been preparing for this day, but still, it didn’t make it any easier.
‘This is only for a few weeks,’ he said.
‘I know,’ she whispered, leaning into him so that their foreheads were touching. They were standing by the water, their favourite place to be, but summer was coming to an end, which meant that the wind blowing off the fjord was cooler now, making the little hairs on her arms stand on end. Or perhaps it had nothing to do with the weather at all.
‘When you finish here, you make your way to my home in Oslo,’ he said. ‘I’ll be waiting for you.’
She nodded. They’d gone through every detail of their plan and his address was in her pocket, but it was still comforting hearing him say it again.
‘Everything will be all right, Amalie, I promise you,’ he said. ‘We’re going to be our own family, and no one can stand in our way, do you hear me? It doesn’t matter what anyone says.’ Oskar placed a hand on her stomach, still flat, not showing any hint that their baby was already growing there. ‘I think it’ll be a little boy, as strong as an ox. Our own little Viking,’ he teased.
‘Or a girl, with dark brown eyes just like her father,’ she said, already imagining a daughter. From the day she’d found out she was expecting, she’d felt in her heart that she was carrying a girl.
