Nineteen
Thursday 24th September
I was getting good at this.
I hugged Willow tight, and I swear I could feel her leaning into me. She wasn’t like the other trees. She was warm and malleable and full of good vibes. Just how I liked my hugging partners.
It was official. I was going mad. I’d be on Sky News next, telling the world how we’d fallen in love and defending our decision to marry. My one tree-love.
There were whoops and squeals coming from the forest, and I followed my ears to find the others. I’d planned a cheeky five minutes with Willow on the way through, knowing everyone else would be down at the bonfire. That way I could get the benefit of tree-hugging, without the embarrassment of anyone knowing I was doing it.
The group had gathered in a clearing next to the water and everyone was dressed up for a party. There was a queue at the buffet table, with its towers of marshmallows and a rainbow of fruits to skewer up for the fire: strawberries, banana chunks, mango and grapes. And then there was the sauces and sprinkles section. White and dark chocolate sauce, honey, sesame seeds and chopped nuts. I didn’t even need a marshmallow – just give me a spoon. Will and Ethel were sat on a log together chatting, and Kimi and Yuto were building marshmallow kebabs.
‘Sara!’ Greta skipped over, her orange dress dragging on the ground. ‘I made this for you.’ She held out a flowery headdress, in reds and pinks, that matched hers.
‘So pretty! Thank you!’ I said, putting it on. ‘What’s the occasion?’
‘It’s for the fire dancing. Our ancestors would have danced naked – so we like to make hair and body decorations,’ she said, pointing to the daisy chain around her ankle.
‘I won’t be dancing naked – if at all,’ I said, zipping my coat up tight. ‘I’ll catch my death.’
Greta laughed. ‘You must! You don’t want to risk angering the Nordic gods!’ she said dreamily, wafting around in a circle. ‘You’re way too young to be so… uptight.’
‘It’s not uptight to stay dressed,’ I said, loud enough for people to hear. And considering how cold this country was, they were over-indexing on activities where you could (but never should) take all your clothes off. Just… keep themon, please. There was nobody here I wanted to see dancing naked about the place. Except, maybe… Well. It wouldn’t be awful if Henrik got his kit off again, but I wasn’t keen to see Tore’s todger or Ethel’s lady garden, thanks very much. Or to show anyone mine for that matter.
‘S’mores, m’lady.’ Jonas handed me a bag of marshmallows and a jousting stick.
‘Thank you, chef. These are a bit risky, aren’t they?’ I punctured a couple of white puffs onto the skewer and cast it into the fire. Toasted marshmallows were the best.
‘And an oat-milk hot chocolate?’ he said, offering me a mug.
‘Oooh – yes, please – delicious.’ I was being converted to veganism by stealth and would be tellingeveryonewhen I got home. There was a cool Enya vibe playing and I spotted Celeste in the corner, strumming away on a harp. Greta picked up her flute and Jonas got on the drums to make a transcendental trio,and the music had us all swaying as we stared into the fire on a collective sugar high.
‘Evening,’ Will nodded over as he dipped his melted marshmallows in dark chocolate sauce.
I smiled; mindful Henrik was also trying to catch my eye on the other side of the bonfire. He was wearing one of Greta’s headdresses too, in blues and blacks, and his hair was loose. I gave him a wave, feeling hot at the memory of us together.
‘Sara! Watch out!’ Will shouted, pointing at my marshmallows, which were now engulfed in flames.
I screamed, dropped my skewer and backed away from the decimated goo. The smell of burnt sugar reminded me of the fire alarm going off when I’d attempted a banoffee pie for Mark’s birthday. I was not a natural chef. And anyway, I didn’t need to barbecue my marshmallows; I’d just pop one on top of my hot chocolate. Or better still, straight in my mouth.
‘I’m the resident fire officer here, ma’am. What seems to be the problem?’ Henrik said in a Deep South drawl as he stamped on the gluey white fireball, getting sticky mess all over his boots.
I giggled at his heroics. ‘Why thank you, kind sir,’ I said, clutching my hands to my chest. Will looked at us both then turned away, leaving us to it.
‘Sorry I had to leave so early yesterday,’ Henrik whispered. ‘I was on morning meditation duty.’
‘That’s OK. I wasn’t expecting you to stay and make me breakfast.’
‘I’d have been happy to,’ he said, smiling. ‘That’s the least I could do to thank you for such a great night. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.’
I blushed, suddenly self-conscious.
No matter the butterflies swirling in my stomach, surely last night could only have been no-strings sex – how likely was I to ever come back to Norway? And Henrik hated big-city life.I had to look at the pros of the situation: knowing you can be as wild as you like if you’re never going to see each other again. That was how we’d been – reckless and free – so it was slightly embarrassing standing next to him like this. Knowing the positions of all his tattoos, and the positions I’d been in when I’d seen them. Knowing how he’d pulled me down on top of him with those arms as he’d kissed me. Knowing exactly what his abs looked like under that linen shirt.
‘Oooooo, look.’ Celeste stopped playing abruptly and pointed up at the sky, but there was nothing to see apart from a couple of glittery stars and a wispy cloud.
‘Behold the aurora borealis,’ Tore announced, proudly. ‘Or as some of you call them – the Northern Lights.’ He waved his hands dramatically, like a magician revealing a rhino in a previously empty box.
