Page 71 of A Copenhagen Snowmance
ChapterThirty
After two days of mainly hiding in her room, avoiding Jamie under the guise of boxing up her things until it’s finally done, Anna feels the need to get out and stretch her limbs. Jamie declines the offer to run with her. As it’s “third Christmas day”, some businesses are open, but it’sgenerally accepted that little is happening. As he doesn’t officially have kids of his own, he’s volunteered to check what, if anything, is going on at the office.
So, with music in her AirPods, and wearing her cobbled-together gym kit, Anna is out running, around the lakes. It’s freezing cold, but the sky is blue, so her sunglasses go on and she’s off, trying to shift some of the calories her Christmas gorging has piled on. She has, she must admit, been a complete pig when faced with all the seasonal food. She forgets she’s a grown-up now and if she wants to cook herself Christmas food in July, she could totally do that. She’s tempted to post a July reminder in her calendar just to try it out.
The run is what she needs, clearing her head and steering her thoughts to think about what she needs to do. She’s better with a plan.
Jamie’s idea about an eco-guide is interesting. There’s something about possibly working with him on it that appeals. It would be nice to have some contact with him still, not just his monthly rent transfer. But would it be tricky between them? Working together, but not acting on this strong connection they have, might be problematic. Anna doesn’t know if she has the strength for problematicyet. And living with Ida, she was only ever used to clean breaks, never hearing from Ida’s partners again, even the ones Anna had formed a bond with.
The flight-ticket quest needs to be stepped up. From what the weather reports are saying, the snow is cleared on the UK side now. Now she just has to fight the backlog and see if she can win one UK-bound seat.
Running on, her panting breaths creating puffs of steam in front of her like an ailing dragon, she eventually rounds the corner back into Eckersbergsgade, and makes it to their door.Herdoor, she means. Or maybe it’s his door. Whatever.
Wrapped in a fluffy towel, post-shower, she sees Jamie’s sent her a text.
A.C. Perch’s tearoom. 1pm. Afternoon tea lunch.
There’s no way she’s missing that. They do the best scones she’s ever tasted, even inside the UK. Apparently, having enquired, the key is obscene amounts of butter, which is something she can buy into.
A.C. Perch’s Thehandel, Denmark’s oldest tea shop, purveyor to the Royal Court, is situated on Kronprinsensgade. The shop itself is small, smells delightful, and regularly has a queue outside it.
Above the shop is the most charming tearoom, where they serve tea, cakes, and afternoon teas with or without Crémant, depending on how fancy you’re feeling. Anna’s spent multiple occasions here celebrating birthdays of girlfriends, before heading out on the town. It’s the kind of place where you usually need to book, so she wonders how Jamie has managed it, but then he seems to have contacts everywhere. “Called a friend,” she can hear him saying. She suspects Jamie’s #makingmemories. Like the Snowmance photos aren’t doing that already. But fair enough, if that’s what he needs then she won’t object. Anyway, she’d do almost anything for the scones.
The town is quiet, as people are still home, but some have ventured out to clear the cobwebs. Købmagergade is empty enough for her not to get off her bike, and she pedals slowly down it, passing Rundetårnet, before turning into Kronprinsensgade. Today there’s no queue outside the shop.
Having locked her bike, she almost skips up the old staircase to the tearoom, where she’s met by a uniformed waitress.
“Booking for Jamie MacDonald.”
The waitress nods and leads the way to a table at the end of the room where the tables are lower, with banquet seats on one side, prettily upholstered chairs on the other. The style is more Japanese at this end. Anna’s delighted as it’s definitely the cosier end of the room, and gives a clear view through to the wall of tea caddies, at the opposite end, waiting for guests to pick their brew from an excessively long menu-card of tea.
The tea-scented room is busy. Obviously, lots of people want a betwixtmas treat. There’s a cheerful hum in the air and Anna settles into her wall seat to wait.
Due to her excitement, she’s a little early, so pulls out her phone. She’s had an idea on the ride over. Replaying her glory moment of explaining to Jamie how she found Lajla, it dawned on her she can do the same for Maiken. She might be in the Kraks directory, too. A quick scoot around the site shows she’s not. Probably best for an investigative journo, who exposes baddies.Buther mother is still in Dronningmølle. The locket is still in Anna’s pocket, so she could drop by a post office on the way home and that’ll be done and dusted. Another loose end tied. The thought makes her smile.
On reflection, she sees her escape from the city a year and half ago was perhaps a little hasty. Notwrong, just hasty. The speed meant she didn’t do things in a tidy or considered fashion. Pølse’s ashes being one case in point. Not that she could have done anything about the locket, as she probably wouldn’t have remembered it if she hadn’t sat by the plant pot the other day. But as it stands, it is something she can get off her conscience now. She could also have put her belongings into storage properly before renting the house out, or even sold the house completely.
Anna suddenly shivers. She looks to the near window, but it’s closed. There must be a draft from the door, and she pulls her coat up around her sides. Returning to her thoughts, she sees that had she sold the house, she wouldn’t have met Jamie. Perhaps, as Ida would say, “Even fuck-ups can turn out for the good. You just have to look at them from the other side, not the midpoint.” Ida doesn’t always come across as “together”, but in this instance Anna might have to agree with her.
Maiken’s mother’s address is screen-shotted, and the phone popped back in her pocket. Scanning the room again, she registers a figure arriving at the far end, one she recognises, but it’s all wrong. It’s not Jamie, and she feels the smile slide off her face as she recognises who it is.
Ah, fuck.
It’s Maiken.
She’s bloody manifested her with her address search!Shit, shit, shit.
Looking about, Anna wonders whether she can fit under the low tea table. Not a chance. Bloody hell. What are the chances Maiken would come here the day Anna’s here?!Allthe bloody chances, Anna thinks with a scowl. Hasn’t she been telling Jamie this all the time she’s been here; it’s a small city. This is just her luck. She’s crossed paths with her two times already,of courseshe was going to pitch up today.
Something niggles in her head about that. The Jamie part. And as she sees the waitress lead Maiken in her direction– which feels like it happens in slow motion– a couple of cogs snap equally slowly but very firmly into place in her head. About how Jamie, the fixer, thinks she should face Maiken. About how it’s just possible he’s engineered this, an ambush, for her to do just that. Anna feels her entire body seize up in defensiveness. She’s completely hemmed in, and escape is not an option.
Maiken arrives at her table, the confusion showing on her face, too, at seeing Anna, and Anna knows she’s hit the nail on the head.
* * *
Neither of them speak at first, other than Maiken thanking the waitress before taking the chair opposite. Maiken recovers first and slides off her coat before settling back in the chair to study her. She’s always had a smart brain, and she seems to get a grip of the situation quicker than Anna does.
“I was supposed to be interviewing Jamie MacDonald. He said he could only do today due to travel commitments. I guess he lied.”
