Page 19 of A Copenhagen Snowmance
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“It’s still my winner’s evening,” Jamie states. The soup vanished in minutes, but then there were a few more cups ofgløggconsumed and Anna thinks he might be buzzed. The bar serves them stronger than the street vendors. She’s certainly feeling the effects herself, in that pleasantly tipsy way. The happy mood in the bar is infectious. The kayakers have made it back, to another rendition of the carol, plus further traditional songs once back on the solid ground of the bar deck. Anna and Jamie have managed to get a table and, as well as their being warm in their bulky outwear, are wrapped in the blankets all the bars have to loan. There are candles on every table, and strings of pastel-coloured lights the full length of the quayside bar, all of which is reflected in the harbour water, creating a nocturnal glow around them all.
Anna checks her watch to see if it’s gone midnight, but not even close. It’s only half eight. The darkness feels much darker here, thicker even, than back in London. Her concept of time is skewed. Or maybe that’s thegløgg.
“What now?” she asks, hoping he’ll say “Home.” She’s been lucky so far. She’s seen only a single person she recognised, an old colleague, but they were on the other side of the canal and didn’t see her. Probably because she pulled her hood back over her head.
“Last stop for the night,” he says. “Tivoli.” She should say no, that she’s fulfilled her part of the bet and been out– orexposed, as she sees it– enough already, and more would be pushing her luck. And yet. Thegløgghas done a good job; the mood in the city is bouncing and Tivoli’s Christmas lights have always been something special. Thousands oflights in all the trees around the park in addition to all the Christmas trees they add for the season. Christmas market stalls and the scent of hot, cinnamon-coated almonds. And the screams and laughter from the rides– all this adds tothe ambience and right now, the temptation.
“No rides,” she finds herself saying.
“Not even the Starflyer?” Just the thought of being spun in a swing round and round eighty metres above the city makes her stomach twist. “The view of all the Christmas lights across the city will be amazing from up there.”
“Not tonight, Jamie. Too much soup andgløgg. I know my limits.” She doesn’t mind a ride, but not on a bellyful of fish soup. Barfing on tourists doesn’t feel very festive or welcoming, for that matter.
“Just the walk, then,” he concedes.
“Just the walk,” she says, and follows.
ChapterNine
As Kayak Bar has provided the dinner, Tivoli apparently stands for dessert. Having grabbed anothergløggat the Christmas market at Thorvaldsens Plads, they’ve walked on to the famous pleasure garden. Once they’ve passed under the sparkling entry arch and into the park, they both suddenly crave all things sweet. And moregløgg. Anna’s logic is simple; she’s leaving, she won’t be back in the foreseeable future, so she needs to taste every single thing for memory’s sake. Jamie seems to be along for the ride and happy to try new things. They scoff caramelised almonds and hot chestnuts, moreæbleskiver(they share a plate; they aren’t complete gluttons, they tell themselves) and somejødekagercookies. She also introduces him toklejner, deep-fried dough cookies, which are an instant hit.
Lulled by the alcohol, Anna dares to lower her hood. The hat is donned instead because being surrounded by thousands of lights doesn’t make it less December; there’s still snow on the ground and it’s dog-cold, as the Danes would say. It’s the dry, crisp cold, not the damp kind that seeps into your bones, but cold nonetheless, and so the hat is pulled firmly down over her ears.
“Tell me about the hat. I mean I like it, it’s ridiculously cute,” now-definitely-tipsy Jamie says, flicking the pompom with his finger, “but it’s not the normal Copenhagen wear.” Thegløgghas lowered his guard and oiled his jaw.
“What do you mean?”
“Copenhageners are far more subtle in their colourings.”
“Do you mean stylish?”
“Like I said earlier, there seems to be a basic colour palette with little deviation after puberty. This hat does not follow that palette, although I do appreciate it’s the colours of the Danish flag, which, knowing how passionate Danes are about their flag, might be the answer in itself.”
“You think I wear this to show everyone I love the flag?”
“Maybe?” He offers her aklejnefrom his bag as a peace offering, not sure whether he’s insulted her.
“I’ve had this hat since I was one,” she says.
“Toddler Anna clearly had an enormous head.”
She bumps him with her hip and an “Oi.” Yes, so Anna is squiffy, too, otherwise she would never have instigated actual physical contact.
“Mymormorknitted the original for my first winter. I loved it and wore it all the time, even in summer and sometimes when I slept. It was mine, and consistent, I suppose. I can tell you it looked far odder when we lived in Malta. As I grew out of one, she would knit me another. At first my mother just subbed them, and I didn’t really understand it wasn’t the same one, and no doubt I would have thrown a hooley had I realised, but later I did, and I appreciated it. It was something from her, and something she knew I valued. This was the last one she made me. She knew she was dying, and she wanted to make sure I had a fresh one.”
Jamie looks somewhat chastened. “I wasn’t taking the piss out of the hat.”
“I know. I get that it might sound a bit strange, but if you grow up without much consistency, and find it hard to create your identity because you have few foundations to build it on, you hang onto the small things,yourthings. Do you see?”
“I do.”
They walk past a willow which seems to have every single bough strung with lights. It’s exquisite. And how unlucky that they happen to pass yet anothergløggstall. Jamie suggests another cup each, “to stave off the cold”, although their rosy cheeks are more from the drink, as opposed to the low temperature. Anna doesn’t say no. As much as she doesn’t want to be in Denmark, or in Copenhagen, she is very much enjoying being back in Tivoli. It feels like a light-spun dream world. Or, again, maybe that’s the alcohol.
“OK, then,” she says, “One for the road.”
It’s getting late now, and tomorrow she intends to call the airline early. The snow has stopped and she assumes the twenty-six snow ploughs are caning it up and down the runways.
