It’s strangely quiet at my cabin today and I find I have a little spare time, so I’ll tell you about the place I’m staying.
Frozen Falls knows luxury accommodation. I have a huge soft bed, there’s underfloor heating in every room, and one of those fabulous wet rooms with the massive showerheads that I just love about Scandi countries. The resort provides a huge pile of firewood, so it’s kind of a DIY situation when it comes to lighting up your own grate, and there’s even a Christmas tree and a big basket of decorations, so you can really make yourself at home. But the highlight of the cabins for me is the bedroom under the stars. Still no aurora though. But I’m keeping my eyes open.
Looking out at the trees and the dark and the snow you feel a million miles from the big cities. I almost forget they exist. We’re so remote, I get an overwhelming sense of expectation that anything can happen way out here. In fact, I’m heading out soon, ready for another adventure.
The touristy veneer is cosy and inviting but I’m ready to discover what else Lapland has to offer. I just know its keeping its best secrets hidden. Frozen Falls is quietly reserved, well organised, clean, and generous, but what lies beneath all that? I’m going to find out. I’m going to ask my new friend and guide today if he’ll show me the places only locals know.
Surely, not everything about this place is cookie-cutter pretty and wholesomely homey. I don’t mind getting grit on my boots and frostbite on my fingers if it means I experience something real, something only Inari has to offer, and it doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be authentic.
#offthebeatentrack #locallife #NariCultureDetective #Lapland
Chapter Seventeen
It’s only been half an hour since I waved Stellan off in the sleigh, watching from the steps of my cabin as the reindeer’s white powder puff tails wiggled away into the grey noon light. He’ll be heading back here soon, once he’s seen to a few jobs around the resort, and I’ve got to finish making lunch and there’s this clothes-strewn cabin to straighten before he gets here. So, as much as I’d like to flop down in front of the fire and stare out of the window at the snow falling, I can’t afford to daydream.
I’ve stripped off my snowsuit, and I don’t need my extra layers, so they’re gone too, and I’ve done my best to assemble something approaching a tempting meal from the contents of the fridge. It’s all looking rather nice laid out on a big wooden board on the kitchen island, if I say so myself.
I put the bread in the oven to warm through and dash to the bedroom to brush my hair and reapply Nari’s lipstick (like she told me to, if I got the opportunity). As I slick the deep red colour over my lips I can still feel the tingling sensation from Stellan’s kiss. A kiss that lasted only a second before we clambered, dazed and smiling, into the sleigh for the ride back to the resort. I wonder if he’ll kiss me again. He always was so… moreish. I’d better tidy myself up a bit more.
I manage to send the fire roaring and crackling in the hearth and it is so warm in this cabin I don’t even need my fluffy slipper boots – I don’t fancy Stellan seeing me in those – and it’s beginning to dawn on me that, on this trip at least, he’s only really seen me in my outdoor polar gear over big jumpers and a million layers. Back in the day I never gave a thought to my clothes, I just threw on my DMs and whichever Topshop clobber were to hand and assumed I looked reasonably cute. Is that what Stellan’s expecting now? When he gets here he’s going to see me in just my soft black trousers and this hot pink jumper – another of Nari’s suggestions; she said it would ‘pop’ with my red hair and lipstick, but I feel a bit ridiculous and overdone.
Frankly, I’m freaking out as I peer at my reflection and think how Stellan doesn’t seem to have aged much at all. His skin is still smooth and pale like unfired porcelain. I’m putting his fresh-face down to all this exercise and healthy arctic living, and he’s been clean-shaven apart from that first time I saw him again, when Nari and I thought he was a burglar trying to kill us. And his mouth is still infuriatingly youthful and pink.
I think about his eyes as he pulled away from our kiss, heavy-lidded and dazed, and how I’d been struck by a shyness I haven’t felt in years. ‘How am I doing at opening up a little?’ he’d said, his gaze still lingering on my mouth.
‘Hmm,’ I’d replied, slyly. ‘Not bad, I suppose.’
It had felt pretty easy and fun kissing in the snow outside the ice bar. But now I’m beginning to wonder what he was thinking. A pity snog? A bit of nostalgic nuzzling? He can’t fancy me now, not after all this time, and not with what I’ve been through lately. I’ve aged while he just hasn’t. I sigh and pinch my cheeks. At some point around my thirty-second birthday my formerly smooth-as-a-baby’s-bottom face took on the exact texture of flock wallpaper and I’m aware that Stellan probably thinks I’m a bit saggy of tummy and, God forbid, fluffy around the jowls.
Well there’s nothing I can do about it anyway and, oh shit, that’s him banging at the door!
Any concerns I had about how Stellan would react to seeing me in my normal clothes with my hair uncovered disappear as I pull open the door to discover Toivo, Kanerva’s littlest puppy, held aloft at face height by a grinning Stellan.
‘Somebody wanted to see his favourite English lady again.’
‘And what did Toivo want to do?’ I hear an unnecessarily goofy laugh coming from somewhere and realise it’s me. ‘Sorry! Come in.’ Lifting Toivo into my arms and holding him close, I enjoy the sensation of his fluffy ears tucked under my chin. ‘Thank you for bringing dis liddle guy.’ I carry Toivo off towards the fridge. ‘Let’s see if I can find you something to eat, huh?’
Stellan stops by the door, immediately taking off his hat and peeling his snowsuit down. I’m glad I’ve got Toivo to distract me, because when I glance towards Stellan again, having offered the pup a morsel of the mysterious potted meat that was included with the welcome goodies, Stellan’s standing in my kitchen in dark trousers and a deep blue jumper – the Nordic, patterned kind you seriously wouldn’t expect a guy to look this good in. His hair’s all mussed up and bed-headish and I’m surprised I manage to contain the impulse to leap on top of him there and then. Impossible with a dog in my arms. Again, thank you, Toivo. I take a moment to remind myself I’m going to play it cool and just enjoy my last afternoon with Stellan.
‘This looks great. I’m so hungry,’ he says. ‘Usually I eat lunch in the kitchen at the dog sheds or out on the trail with the tourists, and it’s never anything as fancy as this, believe me.’
‘It sounds as though you need to treat yourself once in a while,’ I say, taking the bread from the oven before handing him a plate and a glass of champagne. I’m doing my best look-at-me-being-the-perfect-hostess-slash-domestic-goddess impression, even though all I’ve really done is tip the contents of jars and packets onto a board.
‘I think you’re right. You know, I can’t remember the last time I took a day off work in the busy season, let alone two days in a row,’ he says, as he tears a hunk of bread from the loaf and loads his plate with cheese and olives.
‘Really?’ I lower Toivo to the ground and set to work on filling a bowl with water for him.
‘I never had a good reason to before,’ Stellan says with a smile that’s immediately followed by something that looks like self-consciousness.
‘In that case, I’m honoured. Come on, let’s sit by the fire,’ I say, helping him out.
I pile my plate with the Lappish deli treats and we settle ourselves on the floor by the wide hearth, leaning against the sofa. Toivo tumbles around on the rug by our feet as we eat and I keep the champagne topped up in our glasses.
Stellan asks me what I’d usually be doing on Christmas Eve and I opt to tell him about the alternate years me and Cole would spend with my family, which leads on to me talking about Mum and Dad’s New York holiday. I grab my phone, showing him the pictures they’ve been posting to Facebook for the last few days – they arrive in a sudden flurry of pinging notifications whenever I set foot within reach of my cabin’s Wi-Fi. Stellan watches as I ‘love’ every one of them.
‘This is them in Central Park, and that’s my dad with what looks like a huge slice of pepperoni pizza and a daft grin, and there they are Christmas shopping at Bloomingdales.’
‘They look happy.’
