‘Really?’
‘Yes. Only six thousand five hundred years.’
‘That sounds old to me,’ Chloe replied.
‘But not when you consider how old the Earth is: over four point five billion years. If you believe science that is. The Bible would suggest that all the Earth is only as old as this crater but how reliable is a book that suggests that water can be turned into a wine and a baby can be born like magic.’
‘Well,’ Chloe said, turning away from the crater view to face him. ‘Many people do believe that book. And Christmas will be here soon, the season celebrating the birth of the book’s magic baby.’
‘You are angry,krúttio mitt. Did I do something?’
Chloe sighed. ‘I’m not angry.’
‘Come on,’ Gunnar said with a tut of frustration. ‘We know each other a little now, no? I can tell that something is inside you and you want to shout it at me, but you are holding it back.’
She shook her head, but he knew she was lying. It was obvious and written right the way through her body language.
‘OK,’ Gunnar said. ‘So, do not shout it at me. But why not shout it into the crater.’
‘What?’
‘Come,’ he said. ‘We will go down, close to the water’s edge, into the crater and you will shout whatever you are angry at into its core. Maybe this will be perfect for your event. Your guests can shout celebratory messages across the water by candlelight or maybe something like… moments of truths. Reflection about the ten years that has passed for this company, the challenges they have overcome and plans for the future. Maybe a local choir can sing.’
‘Are you taking the piss?’ Chloe asked, hands on hips.
‘What?’
‘Making fun of me and the ideas I have? Like they’re stupid.’
‘No!’ Gunnar exclaimed. ‘No, I was being serious. It was something I used to do with my mother. Please, let us go down to the water’s edge.’
He held out his hand and wondered if she would take it, or whether he might never get to touch her again.
‘OK,’ she said, walking past him towards the trail.
Maybe he had his answer.
* * *
Chloe was unfocussed and that was the very opposite of what she wanted to be. This trip today had meant to be about her new vision for the Sinclairz Chairs event, but she had also wanted to take the chance and tell Gunnar her truth. But how could she now when the very reason that his relationship ended with Kirstin was because Kirstin didn’t see children in her future. Chloe didn’t just not see them in her future, she could not have them! This was the aged-however-old-the-universe-actually-was kicking her when she was already lying at the bottom of a crater.
But it was spectacular down here at the water’s edge though, staring up at the red rock interspersed with vegetation covered in an icy sheen. Whether Gunnar had been serious or not, she could really envisage a choir and candlelight.
‘The lake is partially frozen now,’ Gunnar said, alongside her. ‘When it is even colder and frozen harder, people will ice skate. You know, some people will probably try to ice skate now but that is crazy and could lead to death so we will not do that and I suggest that you do not add ice skating here to your event plans.’
One thing she couldn’t see was Lincoln Sinclair in ice skates.
‘So, if we shout something it will echo around here?’ Chloe asked.
‘You do not trust your tour guide?’ Gunnar queried.
She wanted to trust him. She hadn’t known him very long but the quality of their connection, the sizzling undertones and the almost soulful way their minds intertwined had begged her to carry on leaning into it. What had changed? Had anything?
‘OK,’ Gunnar said. ‘Do not answer that. I will go first. To put you at ease.’
He cleared his throat and then put his hands either side of his mouth and shouted into the crater’s centre.
‘Huldufólk!’
