Eccentric would be the polite description for my Uncle Jersey. Batshit crazy was my preferred term, but he had still been an important part of my early life. I was grateful for all he'd done for me, in awe of all he'd done for himself, and always looked forward to seeing a man who could make me laugh like no other.
Now he was gone. I hadn't seen him for a couple of years. The last time he came back to Kirkcaldy, for the trek to the place he still called home. We'd emailed from time to time, even had three or four phone chats, so he was never compltely gone from my life. Nor I from his.
So maybe I shouldn't have been too surprised by the phone call, but it still came as a jaw dropper all the same. Norwegian solicitors don't call me every day. She told me she was acting as Jersey's executor, could I confirm my home address please, and would I be able to travel to Vardo in the first week of February? My travel expenses and accommodation would be paid for from the estate. I asked what it was all about, but all she'd give me was that this was at the wishes of my deceased uncle, and she was not permitted to give me more information, except to say that it would be to my benefit to come. Otherwise I would get nothing from the will.
His body had come back to Fife to be buried. He was fondly remembered by his old friends and ex colleagues, so there was a decent turn out to see him off. I was the only family member. There weren't many of us left, and I was the only one who'd come back to our home town. None of which explained why he'd want to make me travel out into the frozen back of beyond at the coldest time of the year. But what else could I say but Yes? He was my uncle, he was special to me, and, more than anything, I needed to know what the hell he was up to. Jersey never did things without a reason, even if the reason sounded totally weird to everyone else.
My tickets duly arrived. Plus full stage by stage instructions, and a shopping list with the means to satisfy it. So I went shopping. Cold weather gear mostly. And a camera. A better camera than I'd ever owned before. Oh Jersey, what the hell am I going to be doing?
The travel date arrived. Train to Edinburgh Airport, flight to Oslo, a night in the blandness of the airport hotel, another flight to Kirkenes, then the grumbling bus journey out to Vardo. Darkness fell like a kidnapper's hood, the temperature plummeted, and I knew I was in Jersey-land. Who would actually choose to live out here?
Next morning I received an alarm call I hadn't asked for, telling me to be at breakfast by eight thirty. Elin Pettersen, the lawyer who'd called me to initiate this crazy adventure, would be joining me. She turned out to be about my age, chestnut haired and brown eyed to confound my stereotypical Nordic expectations. Severely pretty. And fun. She'd loved dealing with my uncle, he was so "different", and he was missed by many in the town. Even if none claimed to have understood much about him. His will tied in well with his personality, because it was "different" too. Her emphasis of the word different was strong, the first time suggesting that craziness I knew so well, the second telling of... I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure I liked ther not knowing. But I'd come to do Jersey's bidding, and that's what I'd do.
I had a day to myself, but she could arrange for any outings that interested me (birds featured highly on the list of possibilities), and tomorrow I would be picked up at three and taken to the reading of the will. I should pack my bag. No, I wouldn't be going far, but I wasn't going to be back at the hotel for... a while. Elin Pettersen was a tease who enjoyed a bit of mystery.
A big red SUV duly arrived the next day, driven by a big guy called Rolf who tended towards saying no words when a dozen or so might have been helpful. Beside him sat another surprise. Celia, my cousin who lived over in Massachusetts, who I hadn't seen since she emigrated ten years before. And she hadn't a clue what was going on either. One more stop before we left town, and now beside me was cousin Greg, who usually resided in Cork, I thought, although I'd later learn he'd been in Waterford since then. And Roscommon. And now Kilkenny. Greg was the member of our family who was most like Jersey.
We were taken to a big lodge about ten kilometers out, given a key and our bags, and saw no more of Rolf. So in we went. More written instructions. Whose room was whose, where the food was and what we should try making, to make ourselves comfy and wait for... whatever. What else was there to do but as we were told, and begin the long process of catching up with each others' lives.
Elin arrived after nine. Elin was grinning from the confines of her Bibendum snow suit and furry halo. Elin was having fun. She sat us down and proceeded to read to us, slowly, clearly, frequently stopping to see if we'd understood. The clarity wasn't lacking, nor the understanding of what it meant. We all knew the Why too - Jersey.
We were to stay in the lodge for the remainder of our trip, a further four nights. On the morning after the last night we would decide for ourselves who got the money the will provided, an amount which would only be specified on that day. The decision should be based on one thing. Which of us managed to take the best photo of the Aurora Borealis.
Elin smiled broadly at our reactions to this news.
"Mr Howden said you would all look surprised." was her succinct comment. We looked at her, we looked at each other.
"Anyone any good at taking photos?" I asked. Two sadly shaking heads. I joined in. Jersey knew us, had known us, too well. Elin told us she'd be back in a couple of days. Outside we could see... nothing.
We spent the next couple of days trying to learn the complexities of the DSLRs we'd been told to purchase and bring along. None of us had much of a clue about depth of field and shutter speeds and exposures, so we read the manuals and fiddled about and tried to figure out what worked and what didn't. It didn't take long to realise that setting them to Auto wasn't going to do the job with the Northern Lights.
It was a well chosen spot, but there were no lights the first night, just moon and stars and a peace none of us had ever known. We kept learning about the cameras, but we learned even more about each other. In childhood we'd spent a lot of time together, but that had ended over twenty years ago and there was a lot we had missed out one. A lot of remembering of how close we'd once been, friends as much as relations.
We got a few pics taken on night two, but even we could see they were a bit rubbish. The third night was a lot better, both in the clarity of the lights and of the photos we all took. We were starting to get the hang of it a bit. By night four we were really starting to enjoy ourselves, all thinking we might have a new hobby, and wishing we had more time to get even better. The lights were at their most spectacular around one in the morning, and we had to force ourselves to look to our lenses when all we really wanted to do was stand there and go "Wow!".
Elin turned up the next day, asking how we'd got on, had we decided who did best. We all said there really wasn't much in it, but I said I thought it was Celia, Celia said Greg, and Greg said me. The lawyer laughed again, her severity a thing of the past now.
"I have one final task to undertake before you leave us, to read out the final provisions of your uncle's will. Please listen carefully.
"Ms Pettersen will read this to you when you have completed the task I set. I hope she will be doing so to all three cousins, my beloved niece and nephews, reunited after so long." Elin paused, looked at each of us in turn, nodded, and carried on reading.
"I hope that, when you leave here, it will be with fond memories of your crazy old uncle, and four things I've given to you as my parting gifts. I don't give a shit..." Elin cleared her throat and suppressed a laugh "who took the best photos, I only hope you all had fun. That would make all four of us, because I had a lot of laughs coming up with this idea."
" First off, there's a bit of money for each of you. Not a huge amount, so don't get your hopes up. Putting on this stunt meant keeping a fair bit aside, and I never was one for saving much. Life was always there to be lived. Elin will tell you what there is in a minute. My second gift is a new skill, maybe even a new joy in life. I knew none of you were photographers so I hope the learning has worked out, and that not only do you know how to use a camera, but you'll start to look at the world differently, with the eyes of the artist. Number three is the experience and memory of one of the great natural wonders of the world. I hope the chosen nights delivered the best of the spectacle. And finally the gift I hope you're treasure most. I've given you back each other. Don't lose that one, it's precious. I love you all. Jersey."
Our reader stopped there, letting it all sink in, letting the tears come, letting us get together and hug. Who knew our crazy old uncle was so sentimental, and so wise?
Elin told us about the money, which worked out around eighteen hundred pounds each. Not life changing for any of us, but welcome all the same. But we travelled back to Oslo as different people to those who'd passed through the airport less than a week before. The guide books tell you that seeing the Aurora is something unlikely to be forgotten. Jersey made sure of it.
