‘Sounds like you got out just in time. Sometimes I wonder if my work is breaking me, but it’s hard to see it when you’re in it.’
He opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘It’s none of my business, but the panic attacks are a big clue, right?’
I stopped at that. I had been trying to convince myself that they had nothing to do with work and everything to do witheverything else. The divorce going through, forgetting to eat then eating and drinking too much, moving back home… the non-stop juggle of life. It was bound to stress me out every now and then. But if Henrik could clock it that easily…
‘Work is fine. I’ve just had a lot of big changes recently.’
‘Fair enough,’ he said, but he didn’t look convinced.
‘It must have been a culture shock coming back to all this quiet,’ I said, looking around. I wanted to keep talking about him, this unexpectedly fascinating man. ‘From the city that never sleeps to a handful of people at a time.’
‘I much prefer the peace,’ he said, pouring another bag of soil across the pots. I followed behind to smooth the tops, tucking in our radish babies.
‘Just call me your gardening sous chef,’ I said, standing back to admire them.
‘They look good, don’t they?’ Henrik spritzed them with his water bottles, managing two full sprays before it started to sputter. ‘Can you turn the hose on, at the wall?’
I walked to the back of the greenhouse and turned on the tap. Henrik stood there with the hose, but nothing happened. I waited a few seconds then turned it up, just as the water shot out all over him. The hose leapt out of his hand and thrashed around on the floor like an angry snake, pissing water everywhere.
‘Sorry!’ I yelped, turning it off and running back to where Henrik and the radishes were now drenched. He’d wrestled the hose into a watering can but not before it had soaked him through. His T-shirt was translucent, and he had to wring out his beard.
‘Luckily I needed a shower,’ he said, smiling as he untied his apron and stripped off his soaked shirt.
I smothered a giggle. ‘I didn’t think it was on.’
‘Well, now you know it was.’
I couldn’t help but stare at his big arms and smooth, muscly back as he disappeared into the bathroom to dry off. I wondered if he had a Norwegian girlfriend these days to go with the hip, Scandi lifestyle. Surely he couldn’t be single?
‘Do you want to borrow my scarf?’ I called, not that it would be much use on its own. ‘And gloves? Or I can run up to the house and get a jumper from Jonas?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve got a spare. Just don’t tell anyone you saw me in it.’ He reappeared in a T-shirt that was far too small for him with a glittery Cinderella on the front. As he got closer I could see it was covered in shapes and scribbles.
‘Big Disney fan, eh?’ I said. ‘Your secret’s safe with me.’
He laughed. ‘Greta’s goddaughters came to visit in the summer and brought me a present. It was the biggest size they sold apparently – in kid’s sizes – but I managed to squeeze it on.’
I couldn’t help but smile. ‘How cute. What did they write on it?’
‘Uncle Hen,’ he said, pointing out the letters. ‘Then there’s a carrot, an apple, some broccoli and a chocolate cake.’
I melted at the thought of this big handsome Viking letting two little girls draw all over him.
‘Are they vegan as well?’
His eyes were back to twinkling. ‘No chance. But they know I do the growing and Jonas does the cooking. They like to help me water the plants when they come, and on a good day they are angels. On a bad day… chaos, of course.’
‘You can’t beat the chaos of kids,’ I said, wistfully.
‘Too true. Do you have any?’
‘No. But hopefully one day.’
Henrik nodded. ‘Ella and Kaja are Greta’s flower girls so we’ve been seeing them a lot recently, for dress fittings and to explain what will happen where. It’s been fun having them around – I’ll miss them after the wedding.’
Could this be? A man who actually liked spending time with children. A proper family man. So they did exist. Henrik’s New York girlfriend must have been an idiot. Fancy having this tall drink of water by your side and letting him go.
