Chloe pulled Kat in for another hug. ‘Thank you, Kat. For being here.’
‘Thank you for having me and putting up with me and for taking me around some of this beautiful island. Now, go and explore the best part of it without me,’ Kat said, grinning. ‘That hot coach driver tour guide of yours!’
Hers. Gunnar was hers. But, in reality, was it even possible?
60
GUNNAR’S HOME, THE OUTSKIRTS OF REYKJAVIK
Gunnar couldn’t remember a time when he had felt so nervous. It was just a Christmas dinner. Yet, somehow it felt like he might be making a feast that would be critiqued as if it was part of a cooking show where there was a prize. He pulled thehangikjöt– hung lamb – from the oven and set the tray on the side of the worktop to rest.
‘That smells wonderful,’ Hildur remarked as she hobbled into the space. ‘Did you add the cloves like I said?’
‘Yes,’ Gunnar replied. ‘Why are you not sitting down?’
‘And did you glaze it like I showed you?’ She leaned in over the meat dish, inhaling as if her sense of smell was going to answer the question for him.
‘Hildur! Sit down!’
She waved a dismissive hand. ‘You need to alter your tone, Gunnar Eriksson. You are about to have a lady friend in our home. We do not want her to think that you shout all the time at this poor, fragile, aged woman.’
‘A poor, fragile, aged woman who I know for a fact was standing on a stool to put more Christmas decorations up this morning.’
Hildur pulled a face. ‘Did Magnús tell on me?’
‘No,’ Gunnar stated, turning his attention fully on Hildur. ‘He said nothing, but I noticed there were more and now you have given yourself away. Hildur, I say again, please rest.’
‘You are like an old worn song that has been overplayed,’ Hildur said, stirring the bechamel style sauce he had prepared on the oven top. ‘Ah! Music! We need to have music. What shall we put on? Something for the season? Or something romantic?’
As Hildur shuffled off to the smart speaker Gunnar took a minute to breathe. What was happening here? He was standing in his kitchen cooking the biggest family meal he had ever prepared in a house that looked like it could star in a Christmas movie. Glitter and goblins and a second decorated tree were all fighting for space, branches and garlands and baubles encroaching a little on the dining space he had set for four… And then he realised something was missing, or rather someone. Where was Magnús?
* * *
The taxi had pulled up outside a lovely looking wood and stone house set back from the road with a yard area at the front that seemed to be a pitch of some kind with a net at either end. It had an apex roof that seemed to be coated in snow-covered turf. Was this it? Chloe paid the driver and got out, feet crunching down on the icy ground.
‘Halló!’ a voice called.
It was then she noticed a boy in the front yard, an ice hockey stick in his gloved hands. He was wearing a bobble hat and a thick coat, joggers on his legs. Magnús. The last time she had seen him, on the coach tour, she had been led to believe he was the son of one of Gunnar’s friends. Now he was someone she was being properly introduced to.
‘Halló,’ Chloe greeted, smiling.
‘Halló, Chloe,’ the boy said, a little nervously.
He was walking towards her now, through the small gate and out onto the road. As he reached her he whipped his hat from his head, displaying his blond flopping hair and gave a bow. ‘I am Magnús. It is nice to see you again.’
When he popped back up, Chloe held out her hand. ‘It’s nice to see you again too.’
‘I think you are very pretty,’ Magnús told her.
She laughed. ‘Oh, thank you.’
‘Gunnar, he is, at best, only a six out of ten so?—’
‘Magnús!’
Chloe looked to the house and there was Gunnar on the top step, dressed in jeans and a navy-blue shirt, a tea-towel over his shoulder. She did not think he was only a six out of ten. She thought he was all the numbers and so much more.
‘Chloe is here!’ Magnús yelled. ‘And I told her she is very pretty!’
