Romantic Escapes

Chapter 3

ICELAND

Lucy’s thoughts came back to haunt her as she stood outside the firmly closed front doors of The Northern Lights Lodge, in total darkness, her breath huffing out in a great cloud of white as the cold nipped at every last one of her extremities. This was a terrible idea. Why had she listened to a perky recruitment consultant with her eye on commission? Why hadn’t she remained in Bath with Daisy?

She almost laughed out loud, mild hysteria threatening to take hold of her. Because you were desperate. You knew it was a terrible idea and you were right. You should have trusted your own instinct.

Blinking furiously, because bloody tears were not going to help, she hammered on the door for the third time, stupidly crossing her fingers, as if that would help, and praying that someone would answer. Why had she let the taxi driver drop her at the bottom of the path? She should have made him wait but no the taxi had roared off, twin brake lights vanishing into the distance leaving her totally alone. On the journey here, she’d seen two cars. Two! Both going the other way.

Why hadn’t she stayed the night in Reykjavik?

With a shiver, she glanced around into the total blackness, the only light from her phone. There was absolutely no sign of life, not human anyway. As she got out of the taxi, after a two-hour drive in the pouring rain ‒ it hadn’t stopped raining since the plane landed in Reykjavik three hours ago ‒ there’d been a low growl to her left and the glow of yellow eyes when she swung the torch on her phone in that direction. Did they have wolves in Iceland? The pathetic beam of light caught the flash of a tail as something slunk away which made her extra wary as she’d traipsed up the path, picking her way over the stones, her suitcase complaining with each jolt and dip.

Now standing outside the wooden doors trying to peer through the side lights, she could see the place was in complete darkness. Above her she could hear the rustle of the grass on the roof or was that more creatures lurking. There were far too many Lord of the Rings images dancing fancifully in her head. With a last burst of energy, she wrenched on the ornate iron scrolled door handle, with that fruitless bang-your-head-against-a-wall hope that she’d got it wrong and the door had been open all along, even though she’d tried it umpteen times already. So much for everyone leaving their doors open, which she was sure she’d read somewhere about the country. She banged her fist on the door, before looking at her phone and the rapidly dwindling battery. Sinking to the floor, she slipped off her gloves, which weren’t going to cut it in this climate, and phoned the only contact number she had. Mr Pedersen, the hotel owner, currently in Finland, was the man who’d officially hired her, but he’d given her the number of one of the hotel employees. For the second time, her call went straight through to voicemail and this time she listened with growing despair to the message in a stream of what she assumed was Icelandic, a volley of harsh syllables and guttural sounds.

Taking a deep breath and hoping she didn’t sound too panicky she spoke. ‘Hi, this is Lucy Smart from the UK. It’s eleven o’clock and I’ve arrived, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone here.’ She’d sent an email with her date of arrival and had received one back in confirmation from someone called Hekla Gunnesdóttir. Her hand shook, her grip so tight on the phone. ‘I wonder if you could give me a call back,’ she asked with restrained politeness when what she really wanted to say was, ‘Where the fuck is everyone?’

Of course, she was polite, she thought grimly, she was going to have to work with these people. Making a good impression was imperative. More than a good impression, she needed them to keep her on after the two months. She had to survive at least a year here to make her CV viable again. Besides, she had nowhere else to go.

Ten minutes later after anxiously watching her phone as she paced up and down to keep warm, the battery died. The rain had stopped which was little consolation as she considered her options, all of which seemed in short supply. One; walk down the road and see if she could find any kind of settlement nearby despite the complete absence of any lights in the near vicinity, two; stay put and hope that someone had listened to her message or three; break in.

Scudding clouds streamed across the night sky, periodically revealing pockets of a star laden universe. The number of the pinprick lights was astonishing. No light pollution here. Lucy had never seen so many stars and in one brief break in the clouds thought she might have seen a shooting star, although she was so cold, she also might have been starting to hallucinate.

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark and the cold had numbed her fingers and toes, she decided to circle the building. Maybe she’d find an unlocked door. With a shiver she walked along the front of the building. How long did she wait before she picked up a stone and broke one of those amazing floor-to-ceiling windows?

As she rounded the corner of the hotel, the ground level started to fall away quite steeply and she stumbled as her ankles felt the sharpness of the sudden decline but she could however see a faint glow as if there was a light on around the next corner.

Carefully she began to pick her way down the steep slope, slipping and sliding on loose scree. Each crunch and skitter of stone echoed noisily making her jumpy and disorientated. Every now and then she paused and thought she could hear water lapping but the sound bounced around in the darkness and she couldn’t quite determine where it was coming from. Cocking her head to one side, she listened carefully and took another few steps forward. Ah, wood. She was on some sort of decking and then she stepped into thin air.

As she stumbled forward, arms flailing like spokes on a spinning bicycle wheel, she registered the glint of water and tensed for the cold as she pitched in face first.

If it weren’t for the weight of her clothes and the unexpected shock of falling headfirst into shoulder deep water, the warm, no, piping hot, water, might have been quite pleasant, except for the rush of water up her nose and swallowing a great mouthful. Yeuch, Lucy shoved her head up to the surface spluttering and gagging. That was disgusting. Her head felt even colder in contrast to the cosy cocoon from the neck downwards. The heat flooded Lucy’s fingers and ears with sharp pain, like pins and needles, as a flashlight came bobbing around the corner and tracked its way across the stony ground to land full on her face.

‘No using the hot springs after nine p.m.,’ called a deep voice, brimming with amusement as the light came closer and closer. Lucy muttered to herself, ‘Kill me now,’ feeling at a distinct disadvantage under the nearing dancing spotlight.

Her sodden parka had wrapped itself around her like a duvet weighted with rocks, her ankle boots were almost floating away with each step and her jeans had a stranglehold on her legs as she floundered towards the edge.

‘Here, there are steps,’ said a second singsong voice with a musical up and down inflection, using the torch to guide her along the wooden edge towards a set of steps that rose up out of the water.

Lucy put her shoulders back and waded through the water towards the wooden handrail with as much dignity as she could muster given she was close to tears.

Lights suddenly came on illuminating the whole area. She was in the equivalent of a small swimming-pool sized hot tub surrounded by wooden decking, with two sets of steps descending into the water. Above her on the side were two figures, wrapped up against the cold night air.

‘Are you alright?’ asked the taller of the two, crossing quickly and holding out a hand, stepping forward to grasp her arm and help her counter balance the weight of her ten-ton coat.

Kind eyes, thought Lucy as she caught a glimpse of concerned brown eyes above a tartan woollen scarf while she let him haul her up the steps.

‘Let’s get you inside quickly before you start to chill down. That heat isn’t going to last long.’ Kind voice too. The slight Scottish burr was soft and gentle, a rather wonderful contrast to his firm and decisive hold as he pulled her forward and steered her off the decking.

‘Thank you,’ she said, subtly shaking off his grasp, even though for some contrary reason she didn’t want to. Kindness had been in short supply in her world for a while. ‘I’m fine,’ she added, with more of a sharp bite to her voice. After everything she’d been through this year, she was never taking anything at face value again. Kind was as kind did or whatever the phrase was.

‘I’m Alex.’ The man’s hand still hovered by her side as if ready to catch her. ‘And this is Hekla. I’m so sorry there was no one to check you in. We weren’t expecting any guests today.’

‘No. It is most strange. Did you have a booking?’ asked Hekla, in her glorious musical voice.

‘I’m not a guest. I’m…’ Lucy swallowed. No crying. Dripping from head to toe had put her at enough of a disadvantage as it was. ‘I’m the new manager, Lucy Smart.’ Automatically she lifted a business-like hand and then dropped it quickly as she realised how ridiculous it must look, with water dripping from her sleeves.

‘Oh!’ The girl’s voice echoed with surprise. ‘But you are not expected until next week.’

‘Everything was confirmed by email,’ said Lucy, her words quick and sharp with sudden panic, not wanting them to think she was disorganised or all over the place.

‘But we had a phone call yesterday saying your plans had changed and you would be coming next week.’

‘Well that wasn’t me,’ said Lucy.

‘Must be the huldufólk making trouble,’ said Hekla with a straight face, nodding. ‘But you’re here now and we’d better get you inside, quickly,’ she paused and then added with a mischievous twinkle that once upon a time Lucy might have been charmed by, ‘it is usually best to wait until daylight before using the hot springs.’

‘I’ve been waiting to get inside for the last half hour,’ muttered Lucy, wincing as her feet splish-sploshed on the wooden decking, the water squelching out of her favourite boots and great clouds of steam rising from her sodden clothing. Just bloody marvellous. These people were clearly her new colleagues. So much for making a good impression from the start.

‘But the door is open,’ said Hekla. ‘It’s always open.’ Her stalwart, sure declaration made Lucy feel doubly stupid. The door had definitely been locked. Hadn’t it? She was sure. She’d tried everything.

‘Well it wasn’t today,’ snarled Lucy in a heartfelt undertone. ‘Why else would I would be wandering around in the dark, trying to find my way in?’ The door had definitely been locked. Her sharp rebuttal was ruined when she slipped on the decking. She pinched her lips and ducked her head as if concentrating on her footing feeling unaccountably tearful all of a sudden.

‘Hey, let me give you a hand,’ Alex’s voice lowered, his tone gentle. She jerked her eyeline to meet his. Warmth and compassion lit those kind eyes as he took her elbow. For what seemed far too long they held hers with a serious steady gaze, as if he could see right through her to the constant shadow of misery that resided in her chest. When he gave her a reassuring smile, his eyes never leaving her face, she felt a funny salmon leap in her stomach.

Sense warred with self-preservation and much as she wanted to shake off the firm gentle support of his arm, that prickle of awareness had unnerved her. Lucy let him guide her back up the slope, trying hard not to like the feeling of letting someone else look after her for a change.

Slightly open-mouthed Lucy peeled off her soggy clothes, gazing around the cosy apartment room as she curled her toes into the soft fluff one of the sheepskin rugs dotting the wide-planked honey-coloured wooden floor. This was some staff accommodation and the bathroom was to die for. Steam was already billowing from the huge walk in shower with its bucket head sprinkler.

Hekla, who with her flaxen hair clearly came from Viking Princess stock, had ushered Lucy through the hotel leaving her with an impression of wooden beams, airy, wide spaces and huge plate glass windows. Her new colleague was talking nineteen to the dozen disclosing a barrage of information, only some of which Lucy took in. Alex was the head barman. Hekla was the assistant manager. The hotel was half full, or was that half empty? The northern lights season was about to start. Other names, some of which sounded as if they were straight from Norse mythology, were mentioned; Brynja, Olafur, Gunnar, Erik, Kristjan, Elin, Freya.

Lucy padded into the bathroom that was, thankfully, beautifully warm. It had a distinct, luxury designer feel to it with its rustic wooden shelf holding a round sink, black floor tiles and a big square shower cubicle.

She stepped into the hot shower and let her head droop as the delicious hot water rained down on her wet hair. Way to go Lucy. How to impress your new colleagues. Why had they’d thought she was coming next week? They must think she was a complete flake. She couldn’t have got the date wrong, could she? Admittedly she’d been all over the place recently and her once famed organisational skills had done a bunk in the last few months, but getting the date wrong? No, she couldn’t have done. And the door had definitely, definitely been locked.

After the bliss of the shower, and a brisk rub with a towel that was perfectly fluffy and soft, Lucy felt a hell of a lot better, although it was still depressing to see another few handfuls of hair circling the plug hole of the shower.

Carefully she dried it, fearful of losing anymore, and deliberately avoided looking at herself in the mirror, knowing only too well she’d see Morticia’s second cousin staring back at her. Over the last few months, gaunt shadows had set in, shading her cheekbones, and dark circles had taken up residence, underscoring her eyes with purple black bruises making her looking part panda and part ghoul. Along with the hollowing of her features, a constant queasiness had settled in her stomach.

Her scooped out face seemed to reflect the complete shambles her life had become. Wincing she put down the hairdryer and looked beyond her reflection through the doorway of the bathroom to the wonderful temptation of the double bed in the other room with its thick white cotton duvet and soft blue throw.

Before she gave into tiredness, she quickly explored the living space, her home for the next two months. Despite feeling trampled on, her spirits couldn’t help but lift. The wooden-framed double bed faced a large open fireplace smack bang in the middle of a run of picture windows, which was an unusual but striking design feature that she’d never seen before. Maybe it was an Icelandic thing. The imposing hearth was built of rustic stone, with an internal chimney breast that rose the full height of the room to the triangular peak of the sloping wooden ceiling. It gave the space a lofty open feeling, but the honey-coloured wood on the walls and ceilings along with the soft rugs and the colourful woven fabric wall hangings saved the room from feeling cold.

Over to the right was a small lounge area with a neat two-man sofa, draped in the softest cashmere perfect-for-snuggling-in-on-a-cold-day throw, two arm chairs facing the fire and beyond that a compact kitchen area with a breakfast bar and two stools.

With a tired smile she promised herself that on her first day off she’d be wrapping herself up in the throw, building a fire (something she’d need to learn how to do) and watch the flames.

She climbed into the cool sheets, immediately snuggling into the soft embrace of a thick mattress topper. As her head settled into the clutch of feather pillows, the duvet nestling around her, she let out a tiny sigh. Stop thinking brain, she told herself. As usual it refused to play ball and instead delighted in torturing her with an image of herself clambering out of the hot tub like a bedraggled drowned rat. What a first impression. She sighed again and curled on her side, succumbing to the delicious softness of the bed, feeling herself start to drift. What must Hekla and Alex have thought of their new boss? At worst they’d think she was a clumsy, flaky, klutz. They had no idea what she’d done … at the moment. Under the covers, she crossed her fingers. Hopefully they never would. She swallowed back the stupid threatening tears that had suddenly sprung from nowhere. Would Alex’s kind eyes hold the same expression if he ever saw that bloody video? Would Hekla’s quick, easy smiles turn to sneers of disgust if she looked up Lucy Smart on the internet? Lucy scrunched her eyes closed and burrowed deeper into the mattress, drifting off to sleep as she succumbed to the soft cocoon of the bed.

Something had woken Lucy and she lay confused as the weight of silence pressed in on her. It took her a slow processing couple of seconds to remember where she was. Iceland. In the middle of nowhere. With a frown, she pushed away the pale green duvet, the warmth now suffocating. Wait, the duvet was green? Blearily she looked around the room which was suffused with a soft unearthly light. It took another moment to register and she raised herself onto her elbows, sleepily squinting out of the windows. It had been so dark when she’d gone to bed, she hadn’t bothered with the blinds.

Wow! Wide awake, she pushed herself up, cool air hitting her shoulders.

A silent symphony of pulsating green light lit up the dark sky, swirling in ethereal waves. Pushing back the covers, she grabbed the throw from the sofa wrapping it around her shoulders as she padded to the window. Mesmerised she placed a hand on the ice-cold window as if she might trace the path of the dancing lights. Her heart expanded in her chest, her eyes wide with wonder.

The eerie magical light revealed a shadowed landscape, the sea meeting the land in a seductive curve and bathing the rocky crags on the hillside in cool colours. Clutching the throw tighter she sank to the floor, enchanted by the serene, soundless spectacle unfolding before her with the grace of a gentle ballet.

Like silk flowing in the wind, the lights danced to a soundless tune, slow and slumberous. Goosebumps prickled her skin as she traced their progress. The sight filled her with a sense of awe and unexpected contentment. All the worries and fears of the last few months faded into insignificance, puny and irrelevant in the face of one of nature’s constants. She wondered for how many thousands of years had the aurora borealis been appearing and what ancient races had made of them. Magic? The presence of a god? Did they see them as a sign? Lifting her head she stared up, suddenly feeling stronger almost as if she were absorbing the cosmic energy. There was a whole universe out there and she was nothing but a tiny speck in the scheme of things. At this exact moment in time, she was nothing and everything, a part of the natural cycle. She clenched her fist in a silent promise. Forward. Look forward. Instead of seeing being in Iceland as a penance she would make the most of it. A second chance. She wouldn’t be shaped by her mistakes. Fanciful as it was, this was a sign, she was sure of it. She would take this chance and use all her skills and experience to make sure that the people that came to The Northern Lights Lodge had a memorable stay.

Chapter 4

The next morning, having dressed with care, determined to make a better impression, Lucy followed her nose finding her way to the empty reception area. She could hear voices raised in argument, the harsh consonants of the unfamiliar language interspersed with some English. They came from the office beyond the reception desk. When Lucy entered the room, she could almost feel the tension thickening the air.

Hekla was standing behind one of two desks, the pen in her hand rattling on the surface of the desk as she faced two other women who wore uniforms. This morning there was no sign of the sunny smiles of the previous evening, instead Hekla’s face was scrunched in mutinous resignation as she argued, although it appeared her heart wasn’t really in it, with a trim girl of perfect proportions and the sort of make-up that made you wonder how on earth she’d perfected those uniform neat eyeliner flicks on both eyes. She looked as if she were about to go on an upmarket shopping trip rather than the task of cleaning bedrooms as her uniform suggested. She tossed her neat glossy brown bob and cast a quick look towards Lucy, her mouth closing sharply as if swallowing her next sentence. Hekla snapped her mouth shut and the awkward silence stretched out as all three of them, curiously, couldn’t seem to meet each other’s eyes.

‘Good morning, can I help?’ asked Lucy in polite but firm enquiry, stepping forward and standing still, determined to mark her authority from the get-go. It was only then that she realised that the head barman who’d fished her out of the hot tub last night was also there, leaning up against the wall, his arms folded and an expression of impatience on his face.

The taller blonde girl opposite Hekla raised her head and her long fluid arms dropped to her side. She looked uncertain and worried at the same time.

Hekla pursed her lips and cast an agonised look towards the two girls before she said, ‘We have a slight problem with huldufólk.’

‘Sorry?’ Lucy thought she remembered hearing the word last night but wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly as she tried to copy Hekla’s rather cute accent, ‘huldufólk?’

What the hell were they?

The two girls nodded vehemently.

Hekla sighed. ‘They’ve left mices. Freya,’ she indicated the dark-haired young woman, ‘and Elin,’ she nodded towards the second blonde woman, ‘and the other staff who live in the staff quarters want to leave but then we will have no one to clean the rooms or to serve the breakfast this morning.’

Lucy gave a quick glance at her watch. It was eight o’clock, although it was still dark outside, surely breakfast service must be underway?

‘Mices?’ She was starting to feel completely stupid, echoing everything the other girl said.

‘Yes, you know little furry mices.’

‘Mice,’ said Lucy, finally cottoning on. ‘You have mice.’ She glanced down at her feet and around the skirtings of the room. This she could handle. ‘OK,’ she gave the two women a smile, ‘we can get some mousetraps. I’m sure that will solve the problem. No one needs to leave.’ Now she understood the underlying panic on Hekla’s face. Getting staff here on short notice would be difficult if not impossible. Yesterday’s taxi ride had established they were in a remote location. The nearest town had been a good twenty minutes away. ‘Humane traps.’ Then she added for good measure. ‘Or perhaps we can borrow a cat?’ She’d always prided herself on finding solutions to problems. Even Chris had complimented her on her ability to think outside the box.

Alex, the barman, snorted and she shot him a quick snotty look of enquiry. He had a better way of getting rid of mice?

Hekla shifted from rubbing one foot down the back of her calf. ‘Nrr.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not the mices, it’s the huldufólk.’

Alex stepped forward, a look of exasperation on his face, his mouth tight. ‘Hidden folk. Like Elves.’

‘Elves?’ Lucy repeated calmly. Alex nodded and she caught him rolling his eyes. Unsure she hadn’t misunderstood, she raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You have elves?’ His mouth crimped tighter in response.

‘Ja, huldufólk,’ said Freya, ‘in our bedroom.’

Lucy frowned. ‘You’ve seen them?’

Freya shuddered and looked horrified. ‘No! It is very bad luck to see the huldufólk.’

‘Riiight.’ Lucy glanced at Alex who folded his arms, giving her stern stare. ‘So there are mice in the bedroom?’

Hekla did her stork impersonation again, the picture of awkwardness.

‘Yes, on the pillows,’ insisted Freya. ‘Left by the huldufólk.’ She bent to pick up the rucksack at her feet and hefted it onto her shoulders, with Elin following suit.