‘Good morning, everybody!’ Lars is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Not a trace of the fact that he was working on reception until late into the night, and then was up early to make sure all the wedding party are gathered in reception in suitable clothing and reassure those that need it that there will be toilet stops. He hands round cameras and gives out instructions on how to use them and how to insert the memory cards everyone has been told to bring.
‘Oh, a memory card?’ says Nan. ‘I brought a pen and paper. I find I have to write everything down if I’m going to remember it.’
Lars smiles and finds her a memory card, which she looks at suspiciously. He’s working very hard to keep everyone happy. He even found me a single room for the night. Not as luxurious as my first room, but then the company paid for that one. Let’s hope I’m not here for much longer. Once I track down this reindeer herd and find out where Daniel is, we could have the bags swapped back by this evening!
Pru and Mika, the two brides, are standing close together, Mika with a protective arm around Pru as her mother stands at a distance, lips pursed, chin high.
‘It’s no good, I’m not going. I’ll just stay here. See if we can change our flights. I haven’t got the right clothes anyway. No one told me this was going to be some kind of activity-themed week. I thought it was going to be a week of culture before a dignified wedding. I didn’t expect to be brought here to be . . . made a mockery of!’
‘Sylvia! For goodness’ sake! People can hear you!’ Gerald, her husband, shushes her.
‘I haven’t even got the right gloves. I’ll stay. I can’t wear my kid-leather gloves out there.’
It’s still dark outside, but under the lights guiding the way to the car park I can see the mounds of snow banked up either side of the hotel entrance. Probably done by Lars before everyone got up. The hotel reception is bright and modern and full of people, which calms my anxiety about finding Daniel Nuhtte and my bag. Surely he must have realised he’s got the wrong one by now.
A tall woman with a smart blond bob, an older version of Mika and presumably her mother, hands Pru’s mother some big mittens.
‘Here, I have spares,’ she says with a kind smile. ‘I hope you’ll stay and enjoy the countryside,’ she adds, pulling on a smart beanie hat and walking over to talk to some older members of the group.
‘Just try and relax and enjoy yourself,’ Gerald tells Sylvia. He’s a grey-haired man, dressed head to toe in Pringle beneath the snowsuit he’s zipping up. He’s the same height as his wife, although with her head held so high, she seems to be looking down at him and everyone else. He rolls his eyes and turns away. I’m grateful that he’s distracted and hasn’t yet asked about the rings his good friend Mansel Knott has assured him will be delivered.
‘You all right, Nan?’ Pru asks the older lady, who’s still looking at the memory card she’s been handed and wondering what to do with it. She’s wrapped up in a woollen hat and scarf, with just her glasses visible between the two, looking like Madame Cholet from the Wombles.
‘Smashing, dear! Can’t wait to get out on the jet-bike thingies! Why’s your mother got a face like a smacked backside then?’ Nan has a thick south London accent. Completely different from Pru’s mother, who appears very Home Counties. ‘Looks like she’s got a poker up her—’
Pru splutters and cuts her off quickly, and Mika throws her head back and laughs.
‘She’s just adjusting to the idea of me and Mika, that’s all. She had other ideas for me and how my life would turn out. But . . . well, I’m not sure we can go ahead if she won’t give us her blessing. I want her to be happy for both of us.’ Pru looks at her beautiful girlfriend, who smiles at her as if she only has eyes for her.
‘She wants to get over herself,’ Nan says. ‘Mind you, your dad’s mum was the same when she and your dad got engaged. Didn’t think your mum was good enough. Stuck-up mare.’
‘I just wish she could be happy for us, that’s all, Nan.’
‘Well, as long as you’re happy, that’s what counts. Now, when am I getting on one of those jet thingies, and who’s riding my pillion?’ She looks at Lars and gives him a wink. ‘Could you show me where to put me card again?’ she asks. As he slots it into the camera for her, she gazes adoringly at him. Lars’s smile fades temporarily and his confident air slips a bit. He looks at me and then nervously back at Pru’s nan, then refocuses on his clipboard, trying to ignore the old lady’s close proximity.
‘So, if I could have everyone’s attention.’ He raises a hand and Pru’s nan shuffles in even closer under his raised arm. ‘We’re going to get on the coach that is waiting outside and drive out into the beautiful forests and countryside around Tallfors. And it will be cold, so make sure you have gloves and hats.’
Mika’s mother looks round at Sylvia, who nods a stiff thank you but still doesn’t look happy about any of this. I can’t let them know the rings have gone missing. Pru’s mother would probably say it was a sign that the wedding wasn’t meant to be, and the brides seem to have enough obstacles to deal with. Let’s just get going and find this reindeer herd! I think, stamping my feet as we shuffle out of the main doors towards the bus.
‘Hayley!’ Lars calls to me, cutting through the little group. I don’t correct him. He takes hold of my hand. ‘You can sit up front with me,’ he beams.
‘Dammit!’ Pru’s nan mutters, throwing me a dark stare, and climbs onto the waiting coach, finding herself a seat a few rows back. Lars ushers me into the seat beside the driver, where I sit and shiver, despite the heaters that are pumping out hot air. The rest of the party shuffle on and arrange themselves, Pru and Mika sitting just behind us. Once Lars has taken a head count, he pulls shut the stiff doors, finally cutting out the biting draught blowing through them.
Lars climbs into the driver’s seat next to me. Thankfully, with my big coat and his, I think there’s about a foot of padding and man-made fibre between us as we pull out slowly from the car park. There is a crunching of snow and ice under the wheels as we leave the hotel and turn onto a long, straight road lined with tall pine trees. Red- and yellow-painted houses nestle into clearings. Many of them have front porches with patio furniture on them, and most still have Christmas lights up, illuminating them in the dark winter morning. Snow hangs in huge clumps on the boughs of the trees, and every now and again I spot a passageway cut into the thick woods for electricity cables to run across the countryside. The road runs parallel with a frozen river, and in the distance, far off, there is a row of snow-topped mountains, like a baked Alaska.
I glance across at Lars, who is dividing his attention between me and the road, gazing at me in what looks like utter adoration, like a young Labrador waiting to be shown affection by its owner. Sadly, I know I could never look at anyone like that again. I think he thinks I’m playing hard to get. Thank goodness I’m going to be on my way back to Stockholm soon, and then on to my next job. But what if this is all a wild goose chase? What if I can’t find anyone who knows where Daniel Nuhtte is? What if he hasn’t come north to visit his family? What if I never see that bag again? And suddenly I feel very scared and nervous. Very scared indeed.
The journey seems to last forever. Lars has told us all stories about the local wildlife; about the moose that can be seen close to the villages with their young. He’s pointed out a herd of migrating reindeer that we’ve spotted through the trees. He’s described the wolverines that roam the woods, and if I wasn’t so nervous about finding Daniel Nuhtte and my bag, I’d be fascinated. We’ve stopped en route at a bird feeding station and snapped pictures of the Siberian tits there as eventually, after a couple of hours, it begins to get light. But I’m desperate to move on. Eventually, as we travel on along the straight road, even further north, and I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll end up at the North Pole, Lars pulls into a lay-by, a snowy clearing surrounded by trees.
‘We stop for lunch and I will take you to Daniel Nuhtte’s family,’ he says, bringing the bus to a halt and pointing to the picnic table beside the river on the other side of the road. ‘His sister usually looks after the herd these days, so I’m told.’
Beyond the trees on this side of the road, the snowy flatland stretches away towards a large mountain. To my right there are a couple of huge windmills, but they’re not turning. In fact, there’s very little wind, just light snow falling.
Lars jumps down from the minibus and stands by the door to help everyone down into the soft white virgin snow. There is a silence about the place, broken only by Pru’s nan, who launches herself at him, Baby in Dirty Dancing style, from the top step.
‘Woo-hoo!’ she shouts, taking a leap of faith and hoping he’ll catch her.
Which he does, just. He steadies her, and himself, and eventually she lets go of him.
‘Shh!’ he tells her. ‘You will scare off the wildlife. Have your cameras ready. You never know when you might see something hiding in these forests. Unexpected surprises round every corner.’
‘Thank you, Lars. Smashing! I was quite a dancer in my day, y’know. Maybe we should try out a few moves back on the hotel dance floor this evening.’
Lars smiles widely and nods, but there’s a flicker of fear in his eyes. He begins to usher everyone across the road to the clearing by the river.
‘So, Lars, are we nearly there, at this family’s reindeer herd?’ I ask anxiously as he lays out plastic sandwich boxes on the table and tells everyone to help themselves.
‘Ah, yes,’ he says, smiling, and then his face seems to drop. ‘But would you like some lunch first? Chef has made all sorts of sandwiches, and there’s coffee too!’ He holds up two big flasks.
‘I’m fine, thank you. I really just need to find Daniel Nuhtte’s sister and ask her,’ I lower my voice, checking I’m out of earshot of the bridal party, ‘where I can find my bag. I need to get the rings back. I need my . . . my life back.’ Because that’s how it feels. Everything that is important to me is in that bag. The rings, which are my ticket to my next job, the big one. And my travel log. All my memories. It might only be a book, but as daft as it sounds, it’s everything to me.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to just enjoy the lunch?’ Lars tries to persuade me one more time. ‘We have gingerbread. Really good. And lemon cake.’ He offers a box to me. But I don’t have any appetite; in fact the very thought makes the knot in my stomach tighten further.
‘Thank you, Lars, but I really need to crack on.’ I nod my head meaningfully in the direction of the brides, who are standing close to each other, smiling and laughing, despite the freezing looks to match the snow-covered trees around them from Pru’s mother.
‘Of course, of course,’ he says. Kind-hearted Lars knows that his guests must always come first. He puts the plastic box back on the table. ‘I will show you where they are gathering the reindeer. Is that okay? Someone there will tell you what you need to know and give you a ride. There are plenty of families working over there, all neighbours. They will help you. But if you have any problems,’ he looks suddenly very serious, ‘any problems at all, call me. I will come and get you, whenever.’
‘Now, here are skis.’ He walks round to the back of the bus and pulls out a pair.
‘Skis?’ I think of the time Griff and I skied and I broke my ankle, feeling the pain like it was yesterday.
‘Here.’ He hands me the skis along with Daniel Nuhtte’s bag. ‘Put your bag of clothes in it,’ he instructs, as though he’s getting a child ready for its first day of school. I do as I’m told, folding my carrier bag of souvenir shop items and toothbrush into the case. I’ve brought it with me determined not to let anything out of my sight and lose anything else! Then Lars puts it on my back, as I’m hindered by my thick coat and gloves. He seems delighted to help.
‘Ever done this before?’ he asks.
‘Er . . . yes. It was a long time ago, but I was quite good actually.’ I was good, until the fall. I remember Griff and me pushing each other, laughing in the bright sunshine and enjoying the glow from the vin chaud. It seems like a lifetime ago now.
‘It will be like riding a bicycle! It will hurt afterwards!’ Lars laughs. ‘You will need a hot bath and massage.’ He beams, and I get the feeling he’d be happy to offer to help.
He leads me back across the road.
‘I would come with you, but I can’t leave my guests,’ he says, looking round and back at me regretfully.
‘It’s fine.’ I try and sound as if it is, but inside I’m trembling. ‘How do I know where to go?’ I ask, looking out at the expanse of snowy tundra.
‘Daniel Nuhtte’s family have grazed their herd here for years, like many other families around here.’ Lars helps me on with my skis, bending down to buckle me into them, then straightens up and points. ‘Go straight from here and over that little ridge towards the foot of the mountain. That’s where they’re gathering the reindeer. You’ll find Daniel’s sister there. I can’t leave the party. Text me if you want me. Take my number.’
‘My phone’s dead,’ I tell him.
‘Take mine!’ he offers with a wide smile. ‘Oh no, wait . . . then you can’t text me.’
‘Tell you what,’ I say. ‘With any luck Daniel’s sister will be able to tell me where he is, and hopefully I can get a lift with her. I’ll offer to pay if I have to. If that’s the case, you go on without me. If she can’t, I’ll be back.’
He looks unsure for a moment.
‘I’ll be fine. I’m good at this. If she can’t help me, I’ll come straight back. If she can, you go without me and I’ll see you back at the hotel.’
‘Hmm, okay. I’ll wait for half an hour. I won’t leave until then, in case you need me. Okay? And I have my binoculars. Wave from the ridge so that I know you’re okay.’
I nod. He steps back and gives me a thumbs-up, then crosses the road back to the wedding party.
‘Okay, everyone!’ He claps his hands. ‘We will have half an hour here before making our way back to the hotel on a different route, where I will show you more of our beautiful countryside.’
I take a deep breath. Gloves on, stick in each hand, I know I have to do this. I have to do this to get my bag back.
‘I will be waiting at the hotel to warm you up!’ Lars calls across to me and waves.
I shake my head and give a little laugh. He really is incorrigible . . . and persistent! But I don’t know what I’d do if he wasn’t helping me out here.
Despite swearing that I would never strap on a pair of skis again, I have to do this now or lose everything that matters. My job, my travel log and these lovely brides’ wedding rings. I pull my hat down further over my ears, then move out tentatively onto the thick snow. After a few wobbles and dips, I’m moving smoothly, but Lars is right, it already hurts. I just want a hot bath and my bed right now. The cold freezes the hairs up my nose, making it tingle, but I daren’t take my hands off my sticks to rub it. In fact, I push the sticks into the ground harder. The quicker I get to the ridge, the sooner I’ll be amongst people again.
In a furious flurry of flailing arms and legs, I reach the top of the rise, hot and out of breath and with a whoop of achievement look down to where the families are gathering the reindeer. I look and look again. I look from left to right. There’s a herd of reindeer, but no gathering families. In fact, there’s just a single person there, standing by the reindeer’s pen. That must be Daniel Nuhtte’s sister.
‘Excuse me!’ I shout, and wave a stick. ‘I’m looking for Daniel Nuhtte! I understand you can help me!’
As I tip my skis over the ridge, the figure turns away from the pen. For a moment I think their face lights up, but just as quickly it falls again to a scowl under the brim of a fur-trimmed hat and above a thick reddish beard. That’s not Daniel Nuhtte’s sister. In fact, it’s not a woman at all. I’ve got the wrong person! And I’m suddenly hurtling with absolutely no control whatsoever down the gentle incline towards a herd of reindeer. I try and slow myself, slipping and sliding like a newborn foal struggling to find its feet, but I still end up careering straight into the bearded stranger.
‘I’m sorry!’ I catch my breath and straighten myself, pushing myself out of his steadying arms. Disappointment pulls my spirits through my boots and I can’t hide it. ‘You’re not who I was expecting.’
‘You’re not who I was expecting either,’ he says gruffly.
I’m in the middle of nowhere with the wrong person altogether. Now what am I going to do?