Erica
The fishing camp looked like a smaller version of Huskyleir with a group of four log cabins set in a staggered row. Huge drifts of thick snow buried entire sides of the huts. With the slanting cabin roofs also covered in thick white snow, the fishing camp had been impossible to see until Lee had drawn them to a stop alongside it.
The snow covering the doorways was powdery on top but frozen as solid as bricks underneath. It had taken forty-five minutes of hard digging with miniature fold-out shovels to clear out the ice and forge a path to the doorway and the cabin inside.
When Erica had first stepped into one of the cabins and glanced at the three sets of bunk beds, a small stove, and a set of tables and chairs she’d had the unsettled feeling of abandonment and trespassing, like she was Goldilocks in the storybook she read to Isla. Snowdrifts buried the windows too, blocking much of the fading daylight and casting the small cabin in a spectral glow, which only added to Erica’s feeling of isolation.
But then Valek and Lee had cleared the snow from the windows and all eleven of them had piled into the largest of the cabins to eat together. There was no running water, no steaming hot bath to plunge her aching limbs into. It was little more than a shell, but one that protected them from the harshest of the wind and the cold, and one that she could stand up in, rather than crawl.
The heat from their bodies and the stove flame cooking their food made it the warmest Erica had felt all day. The cabin no longer felt abandoned but full of life and noise, which in that moment was the sound of ten people singing.
‘Happy birthday to you,’ the group chorused a second behind Greg’s operatic bellows. ‘Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear E-ri-ca, happy birthday to you.’
Erica smiled despite the red spots burning her cheeks. ‘Thank you.’ She glanced at the faces. Tired eyes, raw windburnt cheeks, hair sticking out at every angle imaginable, the matching goggle indents, and bulky outer layers of clothes that none of them had plucked up the courage to remove, which rustled at the smallest of movements. She smiled to herself as the desire to throw back her head and laugh took hold of her body.
‘So, Erica, is this always what you had in mind for your fortieth birthday celebrations?’ Frankie asked.
‘You mean crammed inside a hut in the middle of the Arctic with a group of – no offence – unwashed scruffy travellers?’
Frankie laughed. ‘Yes.’
‘I guess not.’ Erica grinned. ‘If you’d have asked me ten years ago what I’d be doing for my fortieth, I’d have said sipping cocktails on a white sandy beach in the Maldives. Or gambling my life savings in Las Vegas. But actually, this is kind of perfect.’ Erica’s eyes found Molly’s and they shared a smile.
It had been hard for Erica to talk about Billy – the good times and the bad. She hoped Molly could see now how much she’d loved Billy, and still loved Molly and Joyce.
Erica wasn’t going to lie to herself. Quite frankly she’d lied enough recently to last a lifetime. Reconnecting with Molly hadn’t been the only reason Erica had booked this trip, but it was still a big factor, and one Erica hadn’t been sure would happen when she’d sat down beside Molly at Stansted Airport four days ago.
Finally it seemed as though she’d cracked Molly’s hostility and her blind spot when it came to how she remembered Billy, but in doing so Erica had uncovered her own blind spot. Molly wasn’t the only one who’d been so wrapped up in anger that she’d been unable to see things clearly.
The day’s sledding had been downhill and the scenery a constant blanket of white, leaving Erica’s mind free to comb through her own problems. No matter how hard she’d tried to concentrate on the endless waves of snow, and keeping the line tight on the dogs, she hadn’t been able to escape the glaring truth – she’d made a mistake. The worst kind of mistake. She’d lied and deceived Henry. She’d spent months living a double life that could destroy the two people she loved most in the world – Henry and Isla.
She wouldn’t let that happen. The minute she got home, Erica was going to find a way out of her mess, even if it took a few more lies to protect Henry.
Greg cleared his throat, dragging Erica’s thoughts back to the cabin. ‘I realize that alcohol is probably classed as a non-essential, but I’ve been dragging this bottle around with me all week.’ A slim green bottle of Jameson’s whiskey appeared in his hands. Greg flashed a wide grin at Lee and Valek. ‘And I’d be honoured if you’d all join me in a nip. I’m sure it’s not your usual tipple –’ he winked at Erica ‘– but this will light a fire inside your belly.’
Chairs scraped and feet thudded on the wood floor as Greg, William, and Edward gathered glasses and mugs from the shelves on the wall and poured a shot of golden liquid into each one before passing them along to the group. The inside of the plastic mug in Erica’s hands was stained black from tea – she guessed, hoped anyway – but she didn’t care. ‘Thank you.’ She smiled at Greg.
Only when everyone was seated once more did Greg speak again. ‘I’d like to raise a glass, or cup, to Valek and Lee for taking us on this magical trip, and to my beautiful wife, best friend, soulmate, Jennifer.’ Greg lifted a cup to the ceiling of the cabin. ‘Jen lost her battle with breast cancer one year ago today. The boys and I have had some tough days, and I’m sure there’ll be many more to come, but I know Jen wants us to be happy and carry on with our lives, which is what we’re going to do, even when we don’t always feel like it. Isn’t that right, lads?’ Greg reached out and patted his sons on their backs. It was a brief gesture, but one filled with love.
Greg’s sons responded with sheepish smiles and nods of their heads.
There was a moment of silence, then Frankie and Harry shared a look before raising their cups. ‘To Jennifer,’ they chorused.
Erica felt the sadness of Greg’s words and the unalloyed loss of his wife tighten her chest. She eyed the gold liquid, now a murky dark brown in her cup. Hard liquor was not her drink, and yet she couldn’t imagine sipping wine right now. The harsh purity of the whiskey seemed apt considering their surroundings.
The smell of the alcohol hit her nose as she drew the cup to her face. It stung her eyes and scratched the back of her throat before she’d so much as touched the cup to her lips. A moment later her mouth exploded with a fire that lit her throat and scorched all the way to her stomach. Erica touched her fingers to her stinging lips and blinked back the water from her eyes.
A round of coughing carried around the group.
‘Ah, that’s hitting the spot all right.’ Greg smiled. ‘My Jen would be proud.’
The effect of the alcohol was instant. Frankie and Harry dove into a gabbling giggly ‘do you remember when?’ conversation about the time one or the other of them had all but wet themselves during another of their challenges. Greg launched into a story about his first disastrous date with Jennifer. Telling his sons and anyone else who’d listen.
‘Dad, we’ve heard this story a hundred times,’ William said with an amused shake of his head.
‘I know –’ Greg chuckled ‘– but I’m going to tell you again anyway. So there we were in the middle of Birmingham without a scrap of money between us and both of us absolutely starving. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw the wedding show sign. “Fancy some cake?” I asked her. By the end of the day we had our wedding mapped out and were full of every kind of canapé and cake flavour you could imagine.’
Even Molly chipped in with a story of the time Erica had been visiting from university and taken Molly, then nine, and Billy to Meadowhall shopping centre on the bus, and lost Molly in the Marks & Spencer’s food hall. Molly had skipped out the part when she’d seen two of her so-called school friends shopping when they’d earlier told her they’d had plans with their families, and had run off, but Erica kept that part to herself.
An alien ringing buzzed over the conversation. Erica glanced around at the other startled faces.
‘Whoever has a signal out here I want to be on that network.’ Harry laughed, unzipping a pocket on her jacket and examining the screen of her phone. She shrugged and stuffed it back into its pocket.
‘It the Sat phone,’ Lee said, rummaging in the bag beside his legs. ‘For emergencies. Can’t say we’ve ever received a call on it, though. Lee Hamlin speaking,’ he said.
A hush fell over the room as all eyes watched Lee’s face for any clue of the caller.
‘Yep, OK hang on. She’s right here.’
Lee’s gaze fell on Erica. He stood up and motioned for her to follow him out of the room. Erica’s heartbeat thundered inside her chest. Her legs wobbled as she walked, from the whiskey or the panic gripping her body she didn’t know. The satellite phone was for emergencies, like being stranded by a blizzard or breaking an ankle. But those were the emergencies that could happen to them out in the wilderness. The thought of the thousands of emergency scenarios back home caused a lightness to spin in Erica’s head.
Home. London. Henry. Isla. It had seemed as though her mind had never strayed too far from thinking of home and the problems she’d left behind, but it had all been so abstract. Now that she was standing in the doorway with home just a satellite ping away, it was no longer abstract but real. Very real.