Page 101 of All I Want for Christmas

I hope this place will do its work quickly. Mama has the weddingarrangements all in hand and the minister will marry us in the cathedral three weeks from now. Lilja is my sister in spirit and law, and I couldn’t bear to think of her not being there, but she is still so fragile, it is hard to believe she will be strong enough to attend. I am going to mention her in my prayers from tonight to help her rally. Casper will be coming back from London especially and after all the sadness they have endured, any opportunity to celebrate would be healing for them both.

I know Mama feels it isn’t right that Lilja should be spending her convalescence here without a companion; in that regard, my engagement is terribly timed. But she and Papa are so taken up with their commitments in the city that it’s almost impossible for them to get away either. Lilja assures me the solitude suits her very well but she has always been a stoic. I am resolved to try to come down here at least two more times before the wedding. If I can.

14th July 1920

Summer is in full blaze at Solvtraeer! Lilja is taking a nap and I finally have a moment to set down these precious memories. We are just returned from a walk on the beach, which gladdened my heart. I always forget how the sun carries in the wind here and Lilja had to remind me to bring my parasol, lest I should walk down the aisle with burnt cheeks, five days from now!

She cares not herself whether she is as brown as a berry and she has taken now to wearing her hair in a braid, as we did when we were very young girls. She says it is easier than struggling to shape a bouffant in the sea breezes and I must admit, my combs required repositioning on our return, but it seems to me a shame to fall back into girlish ways when we spent so long yearning to be fashionable young women.

Her convalescence appears to be coming along well, however. She reads and paints and sews most days; Papa has decided to have apianoforte sent down here as a surprise so that she might play at her leisure. She used to enjoy it when we had our lessons together and as Mama always says, any house becomes a home when it has music within it.

This has been the first time in years that Solvtraeer has been inhabited continuously through the colder months. The old place usually has a neglected, forlorn feeling when we visit in summer but it almost feels as though the house has woken from a long sleep and is breathing deeply again. Lilja has become quite adept at flower-arranging. Old Sally brings baskets of flowers through into the cutting room every other day so that there are now posies and bouquets in every room in the house. The fragrance is quite astonishing, and I am resolved to do the same in our new home in Toldbodgade after the wedding. Henrik is keen that I should pursue some hobbies, so this shall please us both, I think.

However, I cannot put a brave face on everything. As feared, my dearest sister shall not be coming to the wedding. It is not that she does not wish to but that Dr Beck has advised against it. Her constitution is not yet robust and the melancholy is proving difficult to lift. Some days she does not remove from her bed at all and Mrs Sally has to bring her food in on a tray. Lilja says those days are increasingly rare but that when they come – and she cannot predict when they will– she is quite helpless. It is frightening to think of her like that and I know it troubles my brother that he cannot support his wife in the way he would like, but we must remind ourselves it has only been a few months. Better days are coming.

‘What are you doing sitting in the dark?’ Viggo asked as he came down the stairs into the oval office. He was carrying a bag of groceries for his dinner; he had bridge club tonight and there would be no time for shopping later.

‘Oh, just flicking through a million and one slides of how the other half lived in the 1920s,’ she sighed, twisting and tipping back on her chair to see him. She was in the west wing beside the glass cabinet, the lights off. The slide projector was positioned to shine onto the bare expanse of white wall at the end there, the small remote in her hand.

‘Comparison is the thief of joy, Darcy, always remember that,’ Viggo counselled, hanging his coat on the stand and checking the kettle for water. ‘Found anything interesting?’

‘Define “interesting”. It’s an assorted mix, managing to show everyonebutthe two people I want to see: there’s pictures of the new Madsen mansion; their dogs; Lotte and Henrik’s wedding; some photos of Bertram and Gerde at some horse race—’

‘Probably the Trotting Derby at Charlottenlund. A very prestigious event.’

‘Mm. Well, I’ve just moved on to what I’mhopingare pictures taken at Solvtraeer. So far, there are lots of garden and beach pictures, so I think I’m on the right track.’

‘What are you hoping to find at Solvtraeer?’

‘It seems Lilja pretty much relocated there after her baby died. It was the Madsens’ summer place on the coast.’

‘Yes, I know, in Hornbaek. It’s an hour from here.’

‘Well, Doctor Beck advised plenty of fresh air and exercise and according to Lotte’s diaries, it seemed to suit her far better than the city.’

‘It probably felt more like home to her there, too, if the girls were based there during the war years.’

‘Oh yes, I hadn’t thought of that.’ Darcy pondered for a moment, remembering the picture of them both in the garden, on the picnic blanket. June 1915. ‘...You know, I have a badfeeling that she never saw her parents again. I think she died before they were released.’

‘Ifthey were released,’ Viggo shrugged. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

She turned back and flicked to the next slide. It showed a slender woman in a long white cotton dress on the beach, standing by the water’s edge. Her back was to the camera as she stared out over the sea.

Darcy gasped, immediately leaning forwards for a better look. Even without a face, without words, the photograph spoke to her.

‘That’s definitely her,’ she murmured, still scrutinizing the image as Viggo came back down the corridor with their coffees several minutes later.

‘How can you tell for sure?’ he asked, handing one to her.

‘See her hair?’ She pointed to the braid. ‘Lotte mentions it in her diary. She thought it was a backwards step for Lilja not to style her hair up as per the ladylike fashions of the day. But the poor girl was grieving her baby. What did she care for hairstyles?’

Darcy stared at the young woman’s back. Even from behind, she looked so young. She could only have been sixteen, maybe seventeen, here. Already, to all intents, an orphan. Already a wife. Already a mother. Already bereaved.

She wondered who had taken the photograph. Lotte? Casper? Had they seen, too, in that moment, her broken spirit – a heart that could never heal?

She turned back to Viggo, remembering something. ‘Viggo.’

He turned at her questioning tone. ‘Yes?’ he asked warily. They both knew they were not supposed to collaborate.

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