Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
“What is it?” I cry out, and even in my annoyance at the wake-up call, I manage to switch to Danish. “Hvad er det?”
Even though I’ve only been living in Denmark for three weeks now, I’ve managed to pick up a handful of phrases, most of them via the girls. I can also say “Jeg orker det simpelthen ikke” which means “I simply can’t be bothered” which is what Clara often says, accompanied by her dramatically falling on her bed, when I ask her to help clean up their room.
“Tivoli!” they yell in unison and so I’m up in just my sleepshirt and boxers, padding across the dimly lit room to open the door.
Both girls are somehow dressed, though I think Freja’s dress is inside out.
“What are you girls doing?” I say, bleary-eyed, and then repeat my “Hvad er det?” for good measure.
“Hvad er det,” Clara corrects me, and her version sounds exactly the same as what I just said. “We’re going to Tivoli today, don’t you remember?”
I can barely remember yesterday as it is. Each day is getting busier and busier the more I fall into the groove of things. My schedule is pretty packed and even though I go over it often, the whole foreign language thing means that half the stuff isn’t sinking into my brain.
Blinking at them, I nod. “Sure. Tivoli.”
“And the autumn fair,” Freja says quietly. “I want to see the animals.”
“Okay,” I say. “But you know I have to get my coffee in me first before we do any of these things.”
“You and your coffee,” Clara says. “Sometimes I think maybe you’re named after the Goddess of the coffee bean.”
“You might be right about that,” I tell her. “Give me thirty minutes and we’ll be on our way.”
This pleases the girls enough so that they go skipping off to their room. I call after them, “And Freja, your dress is on backwards!”
“I know!” she yells back.
Kids.
I get dressed quickly. With it being the start of October, the weather has changed dramatically compared to France. While the days are still warm and somewhat dry, it’s the light that I’m missing the most. While I’m sure I’ll be able to handle the cold, especially as they say Copenhagen doesn’t get as frigid as people think, I don’t know how I’ll be when it’s pitch dark at 3 p.m. My sunny Aussie roots will shrivel.
But because mornings are cold and I don’t know what to expect with Tivoli or the fair, I slip on thick leggings, socks, boots, and of course my uniform of a grey mini-skirt and navy blouse. This one has ¾ length sleeves and a Peter Pan collar, which I think is pretty whimsical.
Honestly, I didn’t think I would but I actually like having a uniform. It makes getting ready in the morning super easy when you only have a few varieties to choose from, plus I think it drives Aksel nuts that I wear these skirts. I know that when he asked me to get a uniform he was probably thinking something more classy and modest but hey, I think I look pretty good myself.
Not that I’ve seen him all that often. He’s kept his word to the girls and has been showing up for dinner on most nights. He doesn’t even say anything when Karla brings out two different dishes for the main course, although I can feel the resentment roll off of him like incoming waves. But other than that, he’s stayed clear of me.
Which I don’t mind, per se.
I mean, I do wish we had a different kind of relationship. Not like the relationship I had with my last “father of the house” since that went awry with inappropriate touching and come-ons. I think one of the reasons I even like Aksel is because he’s the opposite of that, like it disgusts him to even be in the same vicinity as me. He’s forever taking a step away from me like I have the bloody plague and yet it’s kind of nice to not be leered at.
But I wouldn’t mind it if I felt like I could approach him and talk to him about the girls and have a real heart-to-heart without all these stiff formalities in the way. Get to know the real him.
If there’s even a real him. At times he’s so larger than life, even when he’s right in my face. At others, he almost fools me into thinking he’s not a king of a prosperous country at all. That he’s just a normal single father, trying to take care of his daughters in a big, empty, lonely house.
That’s something that I don’t think they realize. How lonely the place is. Even with the staff living here as well, the halls seem to echo with memories. I may have not known Helena when she was alive but I feel her around us. Nothing vengeful or mournful, just ever-present in everyone’s minds. That loss of her, the lack of a mother figure, makes everything emptier.