Page 11 of A Copenhagen Snowmance
Anna stares into her mug, losing herself in the depth of the midnight-black liquid.
“Bad break-up?”
“The worst.” She hopes he won’t ask more and she gets her wish. Ridiculously, she feels ever so slightly put out, but then he’s perfectly within his rights to keep things aloof. And besides, she doesn’t want to bring bad juju into the space by spilling her guts about Carl.
“Look, I have some work to do. Why don’t you work on the room. Then this afternoon we can go for groceries. It’ll be good to get out.” The thought of them shopping together sounds bizarre to her, but he probably doesn’t want to leave her alone in his home.
“I don’t know if I’ll be here this afternoon, Jamie,” Anna says. “The flight?”
He gives her a tilted look, like,really?
She refuses to accept she might not be heading back by this evening, but an eye-flick to the window doesn’t bolster her hopes.
However, she knows an olive branch when she sees one. He might be a grump, but he’s willing to spend time with her. “I do appreciate the offer, though. If I’m still here, then yes, let’s find something to do.” She means indoors, because she has no intention of being out and about in the city doing recreational things. No sirree. There’s a perfectly good, unfinished jigsaw upstairs and a television. While none of this has been part of her plan, she’s going to be staunch with her “no engaging with the city” strategy. She doesn’t want to see it or risk seeing people she knows. The chances are too high, even in weather like this.
As the opening to herRomancity: Copenhagenguide details, Copenhagen is a small capital city, perfect for a city break, crossable on foot and explorable in a long weekend. But more to the point, there’s only just over six-hundred-thousand inhabitants, which makes it nearly impossible not to see people you at least recognise. (And yet possible, as it turns out, for your partner to conduct an affair for a year with your best friend, without you stumbling across them, or on the two occasions that you do, it’s totally plausible that they’ve just bumped into each other, as they claim. That part isn’t detailed in the guide, but fact nonetheless.)
Jamie nods and dips his head back to his paperwork.
Anna decides the first thing she’ll do is ready her bag in case the airline says to come straight away. That could happen, right? They might want planes locked and loaded for the minute the snow stops, and the runways are cleared. Once the bag is packed, she’ll call the airline and check others on the internet, if need be, before trying to make more headway with the room.
The idea of being gone again prompts a thought.
“I forgot to ask last night, how long are you in Denmark for?”
“Worried about the tenancy?” he asks, writing something in a moleskin notebook.
She rolls her eyes at him and his table-turning. “No. I mean it’s none of my business, but I think we have a three-year contract, no? I just wondered whether you’re here for a longer working period.”
“Actually, I’m here for the foreseeable. I like it here; I intend to stay.”
She waits and he takes the hint. “My work excites me, Denmark’s stance regarding that work lifts me, the working conditions are great. Your taxes are something to stomach, but I see the pay-off. It’s nice to go back to Scotland when I have to, but I like coming back here more.”
His speech sounds genuine to Anna, but she feels there’s something not being said. Well, she’s not elaborated on her heartbreak, so it’s fair if he doesn’t want to tell her. They clearly aren’t in a trading-personal-secrets kind of place. It’s unlikely they ever will be.
With a nod of understanding Anna stands, picking up her mug to refill and take with her. She’s going to need all the reinforcement she can get to face the cull upstairs.
“Send a search party if you hear boxes toppling, or I haven’t resurfaced by the time you finish. I’ll try to keep the noise down.”
“No worries about the noise,” he says, but doesn’t look up. She’s rooted to the spot for a moment, watching him, the glow of the wax advent candle on the table in front of his work casting a golden light across his concentrating face. Finally, she turns on her heel for the stairs.
* * *
Sometimes Anna doesn’t want honesty. She realises that now. When speaking to the airline, she actually just wants them to say, very convincingly, that it’s all in hand, that we have a plan to get you home, Ms Lundholm, don’t worry. Instead, they’re honest, damn them, and freely admit they have no idea when the airport will be functioning again and that there is, in fact, no plan for Ms Lundholm. And of course, it’s Christmas, so everything is already sold out before and after for days and days. Would she like them to put her on a waiting list…?
The long and short of it is she’s there for at least another day. She decides she’ll ring every four hours to see if anyone’s cancelled their tickets and she can move up the waiting list. She considers it being proactive, which must count for something in the universal scheme of luck. She has to be “in it to win it”, and if she isn’t manifesting her need, then how can the universe know what to send her way? She glances at her bag at the door, primed and ready. She could be on the metro in fifteen minutes, sprinting into the departures hall twenty-two minutes after that. Anna boxes the air to show she’s “got” this.
“Is that to frighten me?” Jamie stands leaning against the doorframe, arms folded and watching her.
God, he’s good-looking. For so long she’s not looked at another man in any kind of appreciative light, and now it’s no effort at all.
She whips her hands behind herself, feeling a rush of heat to her face.
“Noooo. You know, just keeping limber. Can’t get my step count in, thought I should do something else.”
The singular eyebrow that rises on his face is a perfect blend of poise and disbelief.
She busies herself at the nearest box, one for the Red Cross shop nearby.
