‘’Scuse me!’ I call in the direction of the empty front desk as I launch myself out of the corridor and into the main foyer, where there is a wood-burning stove glowing merrily, big floor-to-ceiling windows, and lights outside them throwing an orange glow over the high drifts of snow. There are two seating areas either side of the reception desk, with round tables and high-backed chairs on a single silver base in yellow and red alternately. But they’re empty. There’s no one here and the panic that’s following me is wrapping around me like a cloak.
Breathe! I tell myself. It’s just a phone call to the airline. My bag is probably still at the airport. If I hadn’t been so distracted by the cold of this place, I would have noticed I’d got the wrong bag earlier. I’m sure the airline will just drive it to me and pick this one up. It’ll all be fine. This sort of thing happens all the time. It’ll get sorted.
‘Hello?’ I stand at the front desk and strain to see if there is anyone in the office behind. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror and I look like I’ve seen a ghost. Frankly, it feels like that.
I pick up the little silver bell on the desk, its handle the shape of a snowflake, and ring it firmly. A bit too firmly, it seems, as the bottom of the bell falls away and lands on the desk with a clatter, before spinning around and rolling off onto the floor.
‘Oh no!’ I drop to all fours to retrieve it, the lip of the reception desk masking the soft lighting of the foyer. All the lighting here is soft and really quite cosy, and if I wasn’t quite so . . . distracted – not stressed, I try and tell myself – I’d sit here and enjoy it.
‘Hej!’ a voice says behind me, and I feel a rush of cold air around my legs and backside. I grab the bell and struggle to my feet, banging my head on the underside of the desk as I do.
‘Ouch!’ I stand up straight and look at the person standing in the hotel doorway.
‘Hej!’ he says again, more deliberately this time, rubbing his eyes as if wiping away tears, and then his eyes widen, slowly and fully, as if he’s just seen Santa himself putting presents under the Christmas tree. ‘It’s you!’ He is dressed in a thick padded snowsuit with the hotel logo on its chest, a woollen hat pulled down over his ears and big snow mittens.
‘Um . . . yes, it’s me,’ I say, a little confused. He’s looking at me as if he’s been expecting me. Maybe he has my bag already. My heart skips happily and finally I start to breathe again. I even manage to smile, widely. ‘Hi, yes, it’s me!’ I hold up my hand and wave, moving the two parts of the broken bell into the other hand as surreptitiously as I can.
‘You’re here!’ he says, as if I’m the Archangel Gabriel.
‘I am,’ I agree, wishing he’d stop staring at me and retrieve my bag from the back office, where I presume it’s waiting for me.
‘You’ve got my bell!’ He points to the broken bell in my hand.
‘I have. Look, I’m sorry about that, but well, you see, I thought I’d lost my bag and was a bit . . . Sorry, I must look . . .’
‘Lovely!’ he smiles.
‘Sorry?’ I’m still a bit confused.
‘You look lovely to me! And you’re here!’ He throws his arms wide and I’m worried he thinks I’m someone else. ‘The meteor shower might not have shown itself because of the snow clouds, but still, my grandmother always told me to make a wish when the stars were shooting, and I did. And here you are, holding my lucky bell!’
Your lucky bell, I think, and squirm, feeling the two parts in my hand. I just hope it can be mended easily. I’ll offer to pay, of course, or to replace it.
‘Yes, my grandmother gave it to me, to bring me luck. She told me that whenever I hear it, it’s a sign that my lucky stars are out there, and to keep wishing for what I want, because one day it will happen – happiness will find me somehow. And now you’re here!’ He beams widely and holds out his arms again.
‘Yes, um, I wonder . . . Sorry, I don’t know your name.’
‘Lars,’ he beams, dropping his arms and making his way behind the reception desk. I start to breathe a little easier, knowing my bag and I are about to be reunited. ‘My name is Lars, and you are . . .’ He looks down the reservations list. ‘You need to check in?’
‘I checked in earlier, with the other receptionist.’
‘Hayley,’ he confirms, and nods.
‘Um, actually, it’s Halley, like the comet. Halley Hopkins.’
‘Beautiful,’ he sighs, staring at me as if I’m some kind of vision teleported into the hotel lobby, and I wonder if in fact he’s been on the vodka already, his wide smile seemingly fixed across his face and his eyes trained on me.
‘So . . . the case?’ I try and jolt him out of his trance-like state and into action. I need to keep to my schedule. The rings are due to be delivered in the morning and then I’ll be on my way back to Stockholm and out of this place, I look around at the deserted foyer and the possibly drunk concierge, who is still beaming like a fool.
‘My grandmother told me, wish on the stars, Lars. And here you are, holding my lucky bell.’
‘Ah, about that.’ I slowly put my hand on the reception desk and open it. The two parts of the bell fall onto the desk and my cheeks colour with embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry.’
He sniffs and puts the back of his hand to his mouth as if composing himself. I don’t know if his red nose is a sign he’s just cold, or if he’s actually upset. Then he looks up at me with watery eyes and breaks into another big smile.
‘It’s perfect!’ he says, a crack in his voice. ‘The bell is broken. I don’t need it any more! Fate has brought you to me.’ He shakes his head as if trying to rid himself of a thought. ‘My grandmother is never wrong. I can see that now.’ He nods with conviction. I, on the other hand, have no idea what he’s talking about.
‘Look, I’m not sure who you think I am, or what fate has to do with any of this, but my name is Halley Hopkins and I’m looking for a man.’
Lars raises an eyebrow. ‘Good, then you’ve found him. I’m here!’ He holds out his arms again.
‘No.’ I blush and look at the snowflakes falling outside the huge windows around the lounge, twisting the ring on the fourth finger of my left hand. ‘I mean, the man who’s got my case, the one that’s got mixed up with this one at the airport.’ I hold up the stranger’s case from beside me and point to the office behind the reception desk.
Lars frowns. ‘I’m sorry? You’ve lost your case? Ah, a bag swap? Yes?’ He beams widely again, as if this is what passes for entertainment up here in the wilderness.
‘Yes,’ I say, encouraged. ‘This isn’t my case. Someone else obviously has it and I have theirs. So, has the airline sent it on? I have the other one here if they’re sending a courier.’
He looks at the computer screen. ‘Sorry, there’s no case here, or any message about a courier.’ He shakes his head and my heart plummets again.
‘But . . . I’ve got to find it. It’s really important, it’s got . . .’ I stop myself. I can’t tell him I’ve lost the rings for a wedding party that’s staying here. My boss’s friend’s daughter’s wedding. Or that I really need to find it because without my travel log . . . well, it just makes me feel safe, that’s all. It’s important to me. Plus, my schedule is inside it, although I do have all the details on my phone as well.
He’s beaming at me again, his hazel eyes wide open like they’re inviting me into his secret world.
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I don’t think you understand. I really need my case, it’s got . . . well, everything in it.’ My voice starts to rise and I’m now beginning to panic.
‘Ah, you’re here for the wedding, yes?’
‘Yes!’
‘You’ve lost your clothes in your case?’
‘No . . .’ My voice cracks.
‘Hey, don’t worry, Lars is here.’ He suddenly drops his smile and looks concerned. ‘I’ll phone the airline and find out what’s happened and when they can sort it. Or if you prefer, you can speak to them yourself. Come and use the phone in the office,’ he invites.
‘Thank you, that’s really kind.’ I manage to smile and suddenly feel a little teary at his kindness.
‘Tell you what, I’ll get you a hot chocolate and then we will go to the office and I’ll ring the airline.’
‘Thank you,’ I say again, and let him guide me into the back office. He slips out, returning with hot chocolate, then dials the number and begins to speak. Once again I feel a bit of control coming back into the situation. The wedding isn’t until next weekend. Thank God I decided to come here first and then go to Stockholm. Forward planning is why I’m good at this job. Allowing for mishaps. This will be sorted very soon, I think confidently. I hold the hot chocolate, too hot to sip, as Lars talks.
Eventually he puts down the phone.
‘So, when are they bringing my case?’ I smile.
‘They’re not. Unfortunately, they have had a computer problem. All their systems are down. Flights are grounded. They have no information whatsoever!’
‘What?’ My heart thunders around inside my chest and I’m trying hard not to hyperventilate. If I don’t retrieve those rings, there’s no way the wedding can happen. I won’t get the next big long-haul job, and I need my travel log! The world seems to spin around me, and all I can hear is the blood thundering in my ears.