‘I do, but it was hard, dangerous work.’
‘Is that how you got this?’ She raises her index finger to his cheek hesitantly and with the lightest touch presses her fingertip to the white scar beneath his eye. Niilo follows the movement of her hand as it gets closer and holds his breath, closing his eyes as she makes contact in a sudden burst of sensation, first warmth and then the tingling pain of the scar.
‘Did that hurt?’
‘No.’ He exhales and opens his eyes. ‘No, it doesn’t hurt. I just…’ His words tail off into a frustrated shrug.
Nari looks down at her hands, now both safely clutching her cup, her shoulders rounding as she recoils.
Swallowing hard, Niilo races for words. ‘Do you think Sylvie will be all right alone at the resort?’
‘Umm,’ Nari’s brain works, trying to catch up with the sudden shift. ‘She’ll be fine, I think. She’s at the resort spa.’
‘I’ve always wondered why people pay to go there. Are those beauty treatments really so good?’
‘Yes, of course they are. Haven’t you ever had a massage?’
‘Sure; in the sauna there’s the birch branches. They get your circulation going; it’s restorative after days on the trails.’
‘I doubt Sylvie’s going to let anyone bash her about with a bundle of twigs. No, I booked her a facial, manicure, back massage, and a body wrap. She’ll be in Scandi spa heaven.’ Nari watches him sip his drink and consider her words. He doesn’t even wince as the alcohol burns its way down his throat. He seemed bemused. ‘You should try it sometime, go in for a facial or something?’
‘I’m always busy with the herd, or out with the tourists. There’s no time to lie around doing nothing while I pay someone to rub oil on my face.’ Niilo softened this with a laugh.
‘But you must get tired? And you need to stay healthy.’ She lets Niilo think this over for a moment, taking a drink.
‘I guess,’ he says.
‘And everybody needs to be touched,’ she adds quickly, looking away but aware of Niilo’s throat moving as he swallows.
He doesn’t speak but when she glances at him the curious look in his eyes emboldens her to go on. ‘Have you ever felt like it’s been ages since anyone put their hands on you? Adults don’t really touch, do they? I mean, we might hug a friend or something, but that’s always so brief – economical, even – and you queue up with people, and get squashed together in elevators, or some manspreader might press his thigh on yours on the train, but none of that is touch. What I mean is, when did anyone last make an actual concerted effort to reach out to you and just connect with you? That’s part of the spa ritual, I think. And it’s comforting. To be touched.’
Niilo locks eyes with his guest, a look of incredulity on his face which broadens into a smile. ‘I have thought the same thing many times. Nari, I must explain. I think so often about the people living in the south, crowded in the cities and packed into houses with friends and family and loved ones of all sorts, and I can’t imagine what it must be like to be close to people like that.’
Nari looks into his eyes, wordlessly tipping her head by way of encouragement to keep him talking.
‘Out on the trails some mornings, its minus thirty degrees and the snow feels like pinpricks on your bare hands, and the air’s so cold your lungs are shocked by it, even if you’ve experienced it every winter morning on every trail you’ve ever done. It sends adrenalin rushing to your brain, telling you to run, to find warmth. You build a fire for the tourists with silver birch and the bark’s so smooth, like satin, and the embers spark out and burn your skin. And there’s just you and your fire and yourpuukkoknife keeping everyone alive out there. You have to sharpen your knife every day on a stone and check with your thumb that it’s sharp enough to use.’
At this, Nari reaches for Niilo’s free hand and, holding it in her own, she soothes the rough, weathered skin with her fingertips in soft, slow circles. A rush of breath escapes Niilo’s lips before he speaks again, this time with more difficulty.
‘On mornings like that, out in the wilderness, it feels like every sensation is more intense. Heat burns hotter, the cold has to be colder than any other place on earth, and the stars are more piercing in the darkest sky.’ With this he returns Nari’s caress, letting his fingers tentatively trace slow lines over the back of her hand. ‘Everywhere there’s these intense sensations, and they’re overwhelming sometimes, but what I was always waiting for was—’
‘Someone to touch you.’
‘Yes. And not just anyone.’ Niilo raises his arm, placing it along the back of the sofa, leaving a space for Nari to slide inside.
With a smile she leans into him, resting her head on his chest.
For a long while they hold each other and watch the flames in the hearth.
Chapter Twenty-One
I’ve visited a lot of spas in my life – thanks to Nari – from high end luxury in towering glass city hotels to a decidedly dodgy place over a suburban takeaway with dead pot plants in the grubby windows, but this place is off the charts, jaw-dropping, simple Scandinavian chic and tasteful opulence.
I know I’m onto a winner as soon as I arrive at the spa: a futuristic snowy dome in the forest of baby pine trees in a secluded spot behind the hotel. Another one of Stellan’s recent improvements to the resort, I imagine.
I’m welcomed into the reception area, white, warm and tranquil, by a blonde woman who ushers me in near silence to one of the little rooms leading off from it, each, I assume, like this one – a smaller pod with a rounded ceiling and a spa bed at its centre.
Where’s the tootling whale music and panpipes, scented candles and the glassy-eyed beauty therapist saying, ‘you can just pop your things on the chair’? This is soundless, pristine, Lappish luxury like I could never have imagined.
