‘And how the hell would he know that?’ Jonas snapped.
‘Owning land is a strange concept to us. What right does anyone ever have to claim space as theirs and theirs alone, on this planet we all share?’ Tore said. ‘We have a lifelong agreement with the Bakkens, which we are all happy with.’
‘Is it in writing? Sorry, just putting my legal hat on quickly, in case I can help.’
‘Do you mean a contract?’ I nodded. ‘No, we don’t need a contract. I’ve known Bjorn my whole life. We were at school together and our great-great-grandfathers were the originators of the Firefly concept. We are distant relations in fact, and the agreement has been in place for years. Before either of us were born.’
‘The retreat is part of a long line of Norwegian legacy, passed down through Bakken and Nilsen generations,’ Henrik said. ‘There’s no way Mark or any British investor would be welcome I’m afraid.’
‘Ain’t that the truth. Thanks for the heads-up though,ja?’ Jonas grabbed his coat and headed for the door. ‘I’m meeting Greta in the forest to map out the seating plan. Laters.’
‘Are you getting married here?’
‘Yes, they’re having a winter wonderland wedding.’ Henrik ruffled his hair. ‘Jonas is dressing up as a penguin, aren’t you, bro?’
‘Sure. With you as my best man, the Arctic fox.’
‘Fitting.’ Henrik laughed, as Jonas slammed the door.
I couldn’t bear the thought of his and Greta’s big day being ruined by Mark’s greedy plans.
‘Tore, have you spoken to Bjorn recently? Could you maybe give him a call and check in with him? I’d feel better knowing for certain he hasn’t heard from Mark.’
Tore beckoned me back into the office. ‘If it’ll help ease your mind, I’ll call him now.’
I held my breath as he dialled the number. Mark didn’t lie about money. Conversations were happening and the Nilsens were clearly the last to know.
‘Hei, Bjorn?’ Tore boomed into the phone. ‘Ja! I’m good, and you?’
He nodded along as they chit-chatted, sitting down at his desk.
‘I have an odd question for you, but have you heard of a guy named Mark Pearson?’
Tore listened intently for a couple of seconds, then mindful of me and Henrik stood staring, he put his phone on the desk and switched it to loudspeaker.
‘He said the lawyers would be in touch to smooth everything over with you before we spoke.’
‘About what?’
There was silence as Bjorn realised he’d dropped himself in it.
‘About the title deeds for the land. Why would you be phoning me if you did not know?’
Tore stopped in counter-shock. ‘We’d heard a rumour…’
Henrik butted in. ‘Hei, Bjorn. We didn’t believe it was true. You can’t sell the land from under us without any conversation about it. It needs two signatures, remember.’
‘Mark explained about the expansion plans and the ambition to monetise Firefly and make the most of what you Nilsens have going there. It sounds fantastic.’
‘Monetise Firefly?’ Tore whispered.
‘Optimise, bring it out of the dark ages. And I completely agree with him, with you all. The place needs a lot of investment and cleaning up. Firefly could make a fortune if it was in the right hands. I’d love to see it happen for all of us, Tore.’
‘You don’t think my hands are the right hands?’ Tore croaked.
‘Your hands have done fine work over the years, but we have to face reality. We are old men now. This isn’t my conversation to have, it’s for them to explain. The investor – Mark – was very charming. He said nothing will change for the worse. You’ll all keep your jobs if you want them, and can stay in the farmhouse, if you want to, but with a lot more money to spend. You and me both.’
‘That’s very generous of you, Bjorn. To let us stay in the farmhouse my great-great-grandfather built. Our family home for six generations. How can you even consider a sale?’
