Björn slows the dogs down, bringing them to a standstill, then pulls out his binoculars and looks through them at the two headlights bobbing at speed towards us.
‘Who is it?’ I ask.
He says nothing, just keeps looking into the binoculars.
A second snowmobile emerges from the trees. Oh joy! Maybe I could even get a lift back to the hotel. Wait for Björn to reach the farm and then meet him there. Much as I have come to like these reindeer, Rocky in particular, the thought of my comfortable hotel room, with hot water and a proper bed as I wait for Björn to finish the trek and meet me at the farm is just . . . well, heaven! To be out of this constant cold, which has obviously affected my mood, bringing me down. No wonder people out here struggle, with so little daylight. It would utterly depress me. I mean, I nearly told him about Griff! I cried! I never cry. Thank God I’m not needed here any more. And it’s not like I’m leaving without my head held high. He told me how well I did getting across the river, getting the herd over there. He told me how proud Griff would be. The tears that have eluded me for so long suddenly spring up again.
I watch as the dark blue snowmobiles, their yellow headlights shining across the snow, come towards us like knights in shining armour, followed at a distance by a whole army of snowmobiles. It feels like the cavalry has arrived. Hooray! I beam, watching the little swarm heading in our direction. I feel the tension in my shoulders seep away, already imagining myself in that hot bath, and turn to Björn, but he’s not smiling; in fact he’s scowling.
‘Oh Jeez! That’s all I need!’ he growls.
The lead snowmobile is travelling at speed straight towards us.
‘Slow down! Sakta ner! Slow down, idiot!’ Björn calls. But frankly, the sooner they get to us, the better as far as I’m concerned.
‘Over here!’ I call, waving my arms. Even the reindeer seem to be getting excited by the arrival of the rescue party, starting to jostle and run around.
‘It’s going too fast!’ Björn shouts. ‘It’ll scare the reindeer!’ Suddenly my euphoria melts away like snow in the pan on the fire. I look at the reindeer. He’s right. They’re not excited. They’re scared. Ready to run, by the looks of it.
‘Shh, shh . . .’ I try and settle them, but the snowmobile keeps coming, its lights getting brighter and brighter across the white snow.
‘I’ll head them off,’ Björn tells me. ‘Stay with the herd.’ And with that he shouts, ‘Hike, hike!’ and his dog sled team set off at pace towards the snowmobile.
‘Shh, shh,’ I repeat to the agitated herd. ‘They’ve come to take you home,’ I tell Robbie, who is running around anxiously but thankfully staying with the herd. ‘And me too, I hope!’ but for some reason, the smile I should feel doesn’t meet my lips.
Björn is careering towards the snowmobile and for a moment my heart misses a beat as I think there’s going to be a collision. But he stops, and so does the snowmobile, just in time. The rest of the snowmobiles are some way behind, still catching up. I watch as Björn tears a strip off the lead rider, no doubt berating him for his stupidity and for not respecting nature. Then he turns the dogs, and the snowmobile follows him back towards me and the herd, at a much more leisurely pace.
‘So, you must be the missing helper! Boy, am I glad to see you,’ I say, stepping off the sled and walking in the thick snow towards the snowmobile. Björn still looks furious, though. His face, under his big fur hat and beard, is as dark as can be.
‘Looks like your knight in shining armour has arrived,’ he growls.
The snowmobile rider takes off his helmet and beams.
‘Lars!’ I say with a mix of delight and disappointment.
‘I came to find you!’ He beams even wider. Soft snowflakes in the air settle on his short blond hair.
‘Did you ask him to come?’ Björn turns to me.
‘No. I mean, it’s not that I haven’t wished it. But my phone died ages ago.’
‘I came with a message.’ Lars’s smile is a mile wide. ‘A Mrs Valerie Bevan rang. She was worried she hadn’t heard from you.’
‘My mum!’ Those tears that have eluded me for so long suddenly spring into my eyes.
‘She said she just wants to know you’re safe and well.’
I nod a lot and smile and sniff. ‘Thank you. Yes. Fine. Sort of. Thank you.’
‘And another message.’ He pulls out his phone. ‘From a Mr Mansel Knott,’ he reads from the screen, and my spirits, which seemed so lifted by hearing from my lovely mum, suddenly plummet. ‘He says he hasn’t heard from you and the job hasn’t been signed off. As this is a very important job for his good friend, he’d like to know that the goods have been delivered, otherwise,’ he continues, and my mouth goes dry, ‘he will have to give the new long-haul assignment to another courier.’
Suddenly it feels like the light has disappeared altogether, like someone has taken the sun and I’m left cold and shivering.
‘I can get you back to the hotel to return the calls,’ Lars says.
‘Well then, looks like you have a lift out of here!’ Björn turns away furiously and goes to check the dogs.
‘But the herd?’ I say, looking around at the familiar faces.
He turns back and shrugs. ‘I’ll manage. We’ve done the worst of it. The river. We’re over halfway. It should be a fairly straightforward run from here. There are more villages now along the way. I can get help if I need it.’
‘But—’
‘I’ll get your bag for you, drop it at the hotel.’ He looks at me with his piercing blue eyes and I wonder if he’s going to say something else. What else could he have to say to me? That I wasn’t a total waste of space, that actually I was good . . . Maybe, don’t go, stay?
I nod slowly, and he suddenly looks away.
‘I’ll text you as soon as I reach Daniel’s place,’ he says.
I swallow a large lump in my throat. When I say nothing, he turns back to me and we stand and stare at each other for a moment. A whole load of unsaid words seem to be in the air.
It’s Lars who finally breaks the moment between us.
‘I have a helmet for you!’ he says joyously. ‘Climb aboard. We’re going to try and see the Northern Lights this evening.’
‘How did you know where to find me?’ I ask politely, my mouth dry, trying to shake off the moment that just seems to have happened.
‘The old postal route is well known with snowmobile tours. There’s a vantage point for the Northern Lights up there.’ He points to a snowy plateau. ‘Sorry. I was going too fast. I was just so impatient to see you, once I got your mum’s message. I was worried too. I wanted to make sure you were all right. I mean, she could be my future mother-in-law!’
I go to tell him that she’s not his future mother-in-law and that I’m already married, but Björn is giving me a strange look. I want to tell Lars that his wish on the shooting star might not be his fate, but then I hear the buzz of the other snowmobiles getting louder.
‘Come on.’ Lars beckons. ‘It’s the wedding party!’
‘Yes, go on,’ says Björn, and for someone who’s so keen to get rid of me, he’s being really grumpy about me going.
‘I . . . I could stay,’ I say very quickly, and just as quickly he shakes his head.
‘I’ll cope. Maybe my help will arrive soon.’ He waves his phone. ‘Besides, you snore.’
‘I do not!’
I realise he’s attempting a joke because he can see I’m torn. I feel bad leaving him and the herd out here with the rest of the journey still to go. But he is already unharnessing Rocky and attaching my sled to the back of his.
I walk slowly to Lars, who hands me the helmet as if it’s a crown.
‘Thank you,’ I say. Unsure why I feel so reluctant to leave when this is what I’ve wanted from the moment we set off.
‘Are you sure?’ I suddenly turn and ask Björn.
‘Quite sure. You’ve been a great help. But I can go on alone from here. The river was the hardest part.’ He looks at me and I feel a sudden rush of sadness. Then he says slowly, ‘I’m sure you have your own journey to make too.’
And I realise he’s not talking about my trip home. He means me, me and my life. I freeze. Lars looks between us, his ever-present smile slipping just for a second, then raises a hopeful eyebrow.
‘Me?’ His smile returns. ‘You have a journey to take with me? Definitely.’
Björn raises both eyebrows. ‘Maybe it is time you moved on,’ he says, and again, I know he’s not talking about getting on the snowmobile. I know that he knows. He’s guessed. Maybe it is right for me to get out of here. Once again this man makes me feel like all my defences have been stripped from me, like I’m out in the cold with nothing to protect my shattered heart.
‘Yes, hop on. Let’s go!’ Lars starts the engine.
I put the helmet on, and pull the visor over my face so Björn can’t see my eyes, can’t see into my soul any more, suddenly furious that he has reached in and snuck a peek at my secrets. How dare he?!
‘Fine! This is me moving on!’ I say.
Björn backs away from the snowmobile. Lars pulls on his big gloves. I have no idea how I’ll feel about having to wrap my arms around him for the journey home, but right now, getting as far away as possible from Björn seems like a good idea. He’s come too close to the truth. I have to leave.
Just as Lars is about to climb aboard, there is the squeal of an engine being thrashed. We turn and see a snowmobile careering at speed towards us.
‘Get your snowmobile safari away from my herd!’ Björn shouts. ‘Now!’
Lars turns and runs towards them, waving. ‘Stop! Slow down!’ he calls. I join in, but the snowmobile has already reached us at speed.
‘Wheeeee!’ cries the unmistakable figure of Pru’s nan as she whizzes past, and the herd splits, separating like the Red Sea parting, and then bolts in two different directions.
‘Shit!’ says Björn.
‘Oh no!’ I cry.
He jumps on the back of the dog sled and glances in an agony of indecision between the separated herd, half of them heading across the virgin snowy wasteland towards the melting river, the other half to the forest and the road, their fluffy bottoms held high.
‘You go that way!’ I shout, indicating the road. ‘I’ll go after the others!’
He doesn’t need telling twice. ‘Hike, hike!’ he shouts to the dogs, and they set off towards the trees separating the tundra from the road.
‘Sorry, Lars, I need this,’ I say, shuffling forward into the driver’s seat and pulling back on the accelerator. ‘How does it work?’
But he doesn’t need to show me: within a split second I’ve worked it out and turn the throttle. The snowmobile leaps forward, sending Lars stumbling back.
‘Press the big red button if you need to stop!’ he shouts after me.
I ease up on the throttle and steady the vehicle, pointing it in the right direction, already gaining on the galloping herd. I go wide, so as not to panic them and make them go faster, and then attempt to pull the snowmobile round and circle in front of them to slow them down. I’m heading towards the river at speed, downhill. The ice has thawed here and the water is running and tumbling fast and furious, like my heart.
Just as the herd are about to meet the row of high trees lining the water’s edge, I manage to swerve the snowmobile in front of them, in between them and the tree trunks, and slew across the snow, pulling on the brake. Then, on instinct, I put my thumb on the horn and sound it long and hard. Rocky is at the front of the herd. He looks at me.
‘Rocky! Stop!’ I shout, the cold air hurting my lungs. He scutters to a standstill, and the herd finally slow down, skidding and stumbling, backing off from the snowmobile horn and finally grinding to a halt. Now all I have to do is get them to go back the other way to join Björn and the rest of the herd.
‘Heja, heja!’ I call. I don’t have a plan here; this is something I’m going to have to do without a map or a schedule. I’m just acting on instinct, following my heart, and it feels surprisingly good.