Twelve
Wednesday 16th September
Yes!I was finally close enough to the Wi-Fi lounge to pick it up and my phone was pinging rapid-fire in my pocket.
I didn’t want Tore and Henrik to think I was some kind of tech desperado, so I hid behind a pine tree to check my messages. Over fifty likes for my photo of the fjords. Including Mark. Still watching what I was up to. And so many comments:
Beautiful! / I’ve always wanted to go to Norway. / Refreshing to see somewhere new. / Looks amazing! / Fab photos. / DM me to collab.
I’d become a travel influencer overnight but didn’t have time to reply to my new fans. I zipped through and liked all the comments, then homed in on Mark’s.
Are you in Bergen?
I didn’t want to publicly answer, so I sent him a DM.
Hey. Yes, well spotted. Vegan spa. Very exclusive. I’ll send you a pin and you can check it out.
A pair of birds were scrapping above me as I swiped through to TikTok, and a branch full of snow emptied onto my head. The icy sludge slid past my neck and I screamed as it shimmied down my back.
‘Sara? Is that you?’
I peered around the trunk, my hair now full of snow, and Henrik was leaning out of a window up at the farmhouse.
‘Yes, only me! Morning!’ I waved my phone by way of explanation.
He chuckled. ‘I recognised the scream. You can sit in the lounge, you know. You don’t have to Wordle in the bushes.’
‘I didn’t want to disturb the tech-free vibe,’ I replied. ‘I was just looking at flights.’ The snow had started up again, settling as tiny snowflakes on my fingerless gloves and melting on my cheeks.
‘Really? Are you still keen to leave? I didn’t think the flights were running. We don’t like to take chances with these flash Arctic storms.’
I logged in to check my flights and the website was covered in red. Cancelled today and delayed tomorrow. Bloody hell! I’d be stuck here forever.
Henrik frowned. ‘Are they not showing up as cancelled?’
‘Hmm… yes, it does look that way,’ I said, trying to play it cool while I worked out another route home. Maybe I could tap Danny Jackson up for that favour and ask him to send me a private jet. I needed airlifting out of here. Or some vodka and beefburgers airlifting in.
‘We’ll get you on the first flight we can – don’t worry,’ Henrik said. ‘Jonas knows one of the guys at the airport, so we’ll get a heads-up when things start moving. Until then, you’ll have to try and enjoy yourself.’
‘I am enjoying myself. It’s just…’
‘…not Sweden?’ Henrik finished, his brown eyes sparkling. Was he laughing at me?
‘It’s not Sweden, no, and it’s also not quite what I was expecting.’
‘The snow won’t stop the programme activities here – we are quite used to it. Are you joining us for the geothermal pools later? It’s a wonderful, healing experience.’
‘Anythingthermalsounds good to me – I love being outdoors in the water. I did some wild water swimming out in Greece a few years ago and was obsessed.’
‘These pools are small, but I can take you to the swimming lakes another day if you like?’
‘That would be great!’ I said, knowing full well I wouldn’t be around long enough for it to happen.
‘And the heating in your cabin is all sorted now? It is nice and warm?’
‘Toasty,’ I reluctantly admitted. ‘The bed is so soft. It snuggles me down somehow, then lulls me into a deep sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. I woke up this morning and felt like I’d been drugged.’
‘That’ll be Greta’s blankets. My sister-in-law to be. She crochets them by hand and says they are full of moon magic, so once you’re under one, it’s impossible to have a bad night’s sleep.’
