‘I’m looking for Daniel Nuhtte,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry, I thought you were . . . I was told his sister would be here with the herd.’
‘Who are you?’ He looks down at my skis. ‘Don’t tell me, a journalist!’ He turns away from me.
‘No! I’m not a journalist! I just have something of his . . . and he has something of mine. I need to get it back.’
‘Really? And what could Daniel Nuhtte have of yours?’
‘My bag. I think we swapped bags on the aeroplane. Well, at least, he must have, because I just took the one left behind.’
‘He took your bag?’ He looks at me as if I might be making it up.
‘Yes, and I have his.’ I drop my sticks and pull the case off my back, holding it up. He says nothing, just narrows his eyes suspiciously. ‘I even have his recipe book!’ I add, unzipping the front pocket enough to reveal the corner of it. His eyes widen a little, looking from the book to me.
‘And he has your bag?’
‘Yes! And I really need it!’ I tell him.
Then his eyes narrow again.
‘So why didn’t the airline get in touch with . . . him. How come you’re looking for him out here?’
‘There was a computer glitch. Some sort of virus,’ I explain, but he doesn’t say anything, as if wondering whether to believe me or not.
‘Look, I wouldn’t be out here, doing this,’ I lift one ski, ‘if it wasn’t really important and the only way to get my bag back. I took the night train back to Stockholm to try and track him down, and now I’m here, in the middle of bloody nowhere! Do you really think I’d be going to those lengths if I was making it up, if I was just some kind of stalker?’ My voice is starting to sound hysterical and I take a few quick breaths, in, out, in, out.
He pauses. Then says, ‘You’ve been to Stockholm? So you know who he is?’
I’m starting to get fed up now.
‘Yes! I know he’s some kind of big chef, Michelin-starred. And I have his recipe book.’
‘Yes,’ says the man, looking at the bag and back at me. I hold the bag closer to me. ‘Look, do you know Daniel Nuhtte? Do you know where I might be able to find him?’ My patience is running out. I have to work out how else I can track down this man. I have to get back to Lars before he leaves.
He looks at me with ice-cold blue eyes from under his big hat, practically all I can see of his face. Then slowly he says, ‘Yes.’
‘What?’ I look at him and narrow my eyes, hardly believing I’m hearing the words. ‘You know Daniel Nuhtte?’
He nods a single nod.
‘And can you take me to him?’ I ask cautiously, wondering whether to offer a fee for doing it or whether he’d be offended and withdraw his help. I say nothing. I don’t even breathe.
‘I can,’ he says.
I let out a huge sigh of relief. ‘That’s brilliant! Are you going that way now?’
‘I am.’
‘Oh, thank God!’ Suddenly my aching thighs, shins and buttocks seem to be worth it.
‘What’s your name?’ he asks.
‘Halley,’ I tell him.
‘Like the comet?’
‘That’s right.’ I allow myself a little smile at someone getting it right first time.
‘So you know about the stars? Navigation and all that?’
I shrug. ‘A little,’ I lie, not wanting to admit that I don’t know anything about the stars. I just want to find out where my bag is.
He nods as if mildly impressed. ‘And you can ski?’ He looks down at my feet.
‘I can, yes.’ I wonder where this is going.
‘That could be useful,’ he says, as if warming to an idea.
‘Useful?’
He nods again. ‘For the trek,’ he says flatly.
‘Trek?’
‘To Daniel’s farm. To get your bag.’
‘You said you were going there, you could take me,’ I say, confused.
‘I am, and I will, but I’m going that way,’ he points towards the wild open tundra, ‘with these reindeer. A hundred and fifty miles. It’s going to take me the best part of a week to get there, depending on how fast I can go; maybe less. But you’re pretty handy on those skis, and knowing how to navigate by the stars could help if the GPS lets us down. I need someone with me, in case there’s an accident and one of us needs to go for help. My helper is,’ he frowns, ‘delayed. So, I’m happy for you to come along.’ He smiles at me like a cat toying with a mouse.
He checks what appears to be a lasso slung over his blue cape with embroidered trim. ‘I need to leave now, whilst the weather is still on my side. Are you coming?’ He raises an eyebrow.
‘What? I can’t follow a herd of reindeer for a week!’
‘Well,’ he shrugs, ‘that’s the way I’m going.’ He turns away, checking his load on his sled. ‘You need your bag, you say?’
‘Uh-huh,’ I reply, my jaw frozen with cold and disbelief. How could I have got so far, only for this to happen?
‘In that case, I can take you there.’
‘But . . . isn’t there anyone else who can just take me there? And what if my bag isn’t there?’
‘No, it’s just me,’ he says, tying up another lasso. ‘Trust me, I’m sure you’ll get your bag back.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’m . . . I know the family. You’ll get your bag,’ he repeats flatly.
‘Can’t you ring him? Tell him to bring it to me?’
He shakes his head. ‘No, sorry. He’s not taking calls. He told me he doesn’t want to speak to anyone right now. Journalists have been bugging him, so he’s switched off his phone. But like I say, I can take you there, if you really need your bag.’ He turns away from me. ‘If not . . . I have to go.’
‘No, wait!’ I say, feeling panic rising. If he goes, who knows if I’ll ever find my bag. This has been my only lead. ‘Can’t you just tell me where he lives?’
‘No. I’m afraid I can’t. He’s a well-known person. He doesn’t give out his address.’
‘What about . . . what about if I go back to the hotel and wait for you there?’
‘The Tallfors Hotel?’ He nods, with a thoughtful look on his face. ‘Sure, you can go and wait there,’ and I almost get the feeling he’s calling my bluff. I think about Lars, suddenly and surprisingly wishing he was here with me. But he’ll be leaving any minute now. He said he’d wait for half an hour. It must be time.
All around me dogs are starting to bark and I feel myself go even colder. The man is pulling on big mittens obviously designed for the snow. The dogs are getting more and more excited. My nerves are starting to jangle and jump. My throat tightens. I stumble backwards, every bark and howl making me more and more panicked.
‘I have to leave.’ He goes to the gate where the reindeer are milling.
This is it! He’s going and I have no other way of getting to my bag! I watch as his hand reaches for the rope around the gate and starts to lift it off.
‘No, wait!’ I call into the cold air.
He shrugs, still holding the rope. ‘I have to leave,’ he repeats. ‘My help will be here soon, I’m sure. But if you want to come until she arrives, I could do with the extra pair of hands.’
‘Can’t you just go straight down the road, the same way I got here?’
‘Take a herd of reindeer down the main road?’ He throws his head back and laughs.
‘Or get a truck to take them?’
‘Have you seen how many reindeer there are here? This is how the Sami people have always got around with their herds. The reindeer migrate in spring to the higher ground here and then again in the winter, inland, to the forests. This is how we do things here. We work with nature.’
‘But it’s really important. There are . . . things in that bag that are needed for next weekend.’ I don’t want to tell him I have expensive rings in there that are the centrepiece of a wedding happening in just under a week’s time.
‘Look, I don’t know who you are,’ his eyes narrow again, ‘but you clearly know nothing about our way of life. The Sami way of life. You see, that’s the thing with reindeer. They’re wild animals. Unpredictable. When they’re ready to go, you have to go. And they’re ready. You never know when they’re going to lie down, and when they do lie down, you never know how long that’s going to be for. And with just me moving the herd to their new grazing, well, obviously it’s going to take longer than if there were two people. But like I say, I can meet you at the hotel when I eventually get there.’
He stares at me.
‘Now, I’ll bring your bag to the hotel when I . . . see Daniel.’
I glance around at the wilderness surrounding me. He can’t really have been serious about me going out there with him. I look in the direction his sled is pointing.
He turns and releases the reindeer from the pen. They start to file out, ready to make a move to their new grazing. The dogs are on their feet, barking and baying. Fear runs up and down my spine and I’m rooted to the spot.
‘Give me Daniel’s bag, I’ll take it to him.’ The man puts out a hand, but I don’t move. There’s no way I can lose this bag too. I have no idea who this guy is.
The reindeer are starting to run this way and that, picking up on the dogs’ excitement, bouncing and raring to go. He calls to the two collie-type dogs who are racing round trying to keep tabs on them.
‘Hurry, I have to leave,’ he tells me, and I don’t know why, but something about his tone riles me and makes me want to stand my ground. He throws up a hand and marches towards the sled.
‘Wait!’ My throat is tight with fear as he goes to step up behind his dog team. He turns to me and raises an eyebrow. ‘And it would be quicker with two?’
‘Of course.’ He looks straight at me.
‘How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you really do know Daniel Nuhtte?’
He looks at me. I’m gripping the bag tightly like some sort of protection between me and the dogs.
‘How do you know you can trust me? Well, I suppose you don’t. But I am taking this herd to my family farm.’ He nods. ‘And I can take you to Daniel. Tell you what, look in his bag, in the book. Read the message on the front page. I can tell you what it says. “Kära Dánel, Kom alltid ihåg vad som finns i ditt hjärta, Jag älskar dig, Kram, Mamma.”’
I fumble with my gloves to pull out the book and open it at the first page. There is indeed an inscription there, starting with what looks like ‘Dear Daniel’ and ending with ‘Mamma’. I wonder what it means. But right now, that’s not important. I have to decide what to do. My heart is banging loudly.
I must be mad. But what else can I do? Go to the hotel and wait, wondering if the rings are going to turn up on time? And there’s no way I’m just handing over this bag without getting mine in return. Once this man leaves, my trail will go dead. He is the only link I’ve got with Daniel and my bag . . . and my future. Because without that bag, without those rings, I don’t have a job, and then what will I do? At least if I’m on the move, I’ll feel I’m doing something to get my bag back. Keeping moving is always the best policy, I’ve found. Sitting, waiting and worrying only leads to madness. I can’t just sit and wait when I could be doing something about it.
His hand is poised ready to release the brake on his sled and let his dogs run. Their barking is now at full volume and I’ve never been so terrified. I can’t really spend a week in the frozen wilderness with a pack of dogs and a herd of reindeer, can I? But it’s either that or see the wedding come and go, with no rings and no more work for me ever again.
‘Okay!’ I stop him. ‘I’ll come.’
‘Well, as I say, I have help coming, but you can join me until it arrives,’ he tells me.
‘Fine. Wait, though. I have to let Lars, my lift, know.’ I turn on my skis and sidestep up the ridge, then raise my arms and give Lars a wave. I can see him looking at me through his binoculars. He waves back and then gets into the waiting bus, which moves off slowly with a beep of its horn. I have a huge ball of trepidation and regret in my throat as I ski back down the little slope and stop. I feel like all the blood has drained from my body.
‘Lars? Boyfriend?’ the man says, stepping off the sled.
‘No, just a friend,’ I tell him, and waggle my gloved hand at him. ‘I’m married,’ I say firmly, setting the boundaries clearly before we set off.
‘Good,’ he says, nodding, and I swear he’s laughing behind that beard and scarf. ‘The light is good, the snow soft. We must leave as soon as possible. Can you drive one of these?’ He indicates the second dog sled team, and all my fears suddenly swell up, freezing me to the spot once again.
I swallow hard. ‘No.’
‘Ah, shame . . . I needed someone who could run this team. Sorry, but in that case, I can’t take you.’
‘But I thought I would be skiing . . .’ Suddenly I feel like my lottery ticket has slipped from my fingers and is fluttering about on the floor.
He shakes his head. ‘Not for the distance I’m travelling. I need someone to take this second team. You’d better call your lift and get him to come back.’
I can’t. Not only do I not have a phone, but I can’t back out now. I need to get to my bag and this seems to be the only way.
‘Well,’ I say, slowly and levelly, ‘you could show me.’ My mouth is as dry as the powder snow settling on the reindeer’s backs. They’re all around me, their tall antlers swinging about dangerously.
‘You’ve never done any mushing before?’
‘No,’ I say again. ‘But I am a fast learner.’ I glance at him. He is looking straight at me, filling me with fear. His eyes are icy blue, light, with dark centres.
‘I suppose beggars can’t be choosers,’ he says under his breath. ‘But you will need to listen very carefully. These are my dogs and I won’t have anything happen to them.’
I blanch and then bristle, but say nothing and bite my cold bottom lip. By the looks of it, he needs my help as much as I need his. Like it or not – and clearly neither of us does – we’re stuck with each other for the time being. I look at the barking dog team and then back at this reindeer herder, and a feeling of dread wraps itself around me and squeezes tight. What on earth have I let myself in for?