Still, I often find myself hoping Nari will meet someone else who might like her enough to call her his girlfriend, and she’d let him. One fact fills me with hope on this front: Nari is just as devoted to romantic novels as she’s always been. She gets through hundreds in a year and knows of every new release on the market. If she ever gives up onthose, then I’ll give up my hopes of her finding love.
I take the wine glass from her fingers which are crossed over its stem and resting on her chest, and she opens one eye.
‘I’m not sleeping,’ she says. ‘Just recharging.’
‘So what should we do first then, once you hit full power?’ I ask. ‘You are, after all, the travel guru.’
‘How about a sauna followed by a plunge into an ice hole in the frozen lake?’
I can’t tell if she’s joking or not. ‘Not for me, thank you very much. I’m thinking of a snooze, followed by a steak in the resort restaurant. You don’t really want to do the cold plunge do you?’
‘Nope! The most energetic I’m going to get on this break is drinking cloudberry liqueurs and making drunken snow angels with you.’
She’s reaching for the overly complicated remote control by the bedside. After some random button pressing and some very un-festive language she manages to send the flames roaring in the minimalist gas fire built into the corner of the bedroom (which I’ll admit, I thought was a telly) and the lights by the bedside slowly fade out.
‘Snooze it is,’ she says, as we rub our shoulders into the plump pillows.
As I’m drifting off, I hear her say, ‘I’m glad we’re doing this, Sylve. Thank you.’
I’m too tired and wine-warmed to reply, but I reach my pinkie out to hook around hers under the covers, and I can tell she’s already contentedly fast asleep.
When I wake up I think for a moment that I’m at home in my flat, except this bed is so much softer than mine and there are no traffic sounds from the road outside my front door. In fact everything is eerily silent, except for Nari’s gentle breathing beside me. As I open an eye I’m met with a strange sapphire darkness. I make out the thick snow on the glass over our heads, obscuring the sky. It must have fallen heavily while we slept and the silence feels somehow damped down by its weight.
I’m thirsty with a red wine headache and a rumbling stomach. I can’t read the time on my watch. The trouble with these long dark days above the Arctic Circle, I’m beginning to realise, is that you have no idea what time it is just from looking out a window. We might have slept for half an hour and it’s nearly dinner time or it could be midnight now. I have no idea.
The fire is still flickering away in the corner and kicking out the most incredible heat. It’s stifling actually. If I could find that remote control thingy, I’d turn it down.
As I’m rummaging under the covers around Nari’s snoozing body, a bright flash of light momentarily blinds me. It’s coming from beyond the glass somewhere among the trees. Another bright flash hits me and a second beam of light joins the first.
‘Nari. Nari. Wake up. There’s something outside the window.’
Nari groans and slaps my frantic hands away.
‘God’s sake woman, wake up! I knew this arctic wilderness thing was a mistake. It’s probably robbers after our euros and passports or a yeti looking for its next meal. Do they have yetis here?’
Nari sits up, rubbing her eyes. ‘Maybe it’s your elf mates from the airport checking to see if you’re being naughty or nice,’ she says dryly, refusing to panic.
Whatever it is, the lights are getting closer and they seem to be scanning across the windows of the surrounding chalets. The beams settle on us once more, lighting up the room.
‘This isn’t funny. If itiselves, they’re getting their candy canes snapped,’ I quip, but my voice is beginning to waver.
We hear the sound of men arguing outside, deep and loud, and Nari whips her head round to face me. Her eyes are perfectly round with fear. Ifshe’spanicking, now I really am afraid. Nari’s reached for the remote control and is brandishing it as though she’s ready to throw it through the triple-glazed windows and I’m cowering under the covers hoping they kill me first.
The first tap at the glass makes us scream. The second, accompanied by two faces pressed close to the pane, turns us bloodless with fear. That’s when I realise there’s no phone in here to ring reception in the resort hub a few hundred yards away down the snowy road, and I remember we haven’t yet worked out how to get a signal on our mobiles, and they’re in the kitchen anyway. This is how I’m going to die; killed in my bed by two of Santa’s little helpers.
Another tap. One of the figures is waving a huge gloved hand. Their faces are covered with scarves which are layered over with snow; only their eyes show through the gaps between hats, scarves and hoods. The tallest of the pair is shouting something but the sound is muffled. He’s pointing to the side of the chalet, indicating that he’s coming round to the door, and with that, the light from their torches fades. Nari and I share incredulous glances.
‘He wants us to open the door,’ says Nari.
‘He can get knotted then!’
Nari, who always did have more of a sense of adventure than me, is making her way through the lounge already, her bare feet padding on the polished wooden boards. I follow a few paces behind. The heavy bang on the cabin door makes me flinch.
‘They could be lost in the snow. I have to let them in,’ Nari shrugs, a daring little gleam in her eyes.
I join her by the door, concealing the empty wine bottle behind my back. I’ve never smashed a bottle over an assailant’s head before but it looks like fun in films and there’s a first time for everything.
A sub-zero gust hits us as Nari throws the chalet door open. Nobody speaks and we peer expectantly out into the dark.
