‘I can testify to that,’ I said, smiling.
‘Not all bad here, then?’
‘Not even half bad. It’s beautiful.’
He nodded slowly. ‘It really is. Well, see you at the Sun Hut in half an hour.’
There was just enough time to dash back and pop my tankini on, which had been drying by the fire. It was the only one I had with full bum coverage – I wouldn’t be able to relax in a G-string. The wood burner was glowing bright, despite the vegan firelighters, and I’d felt so proud this morning when the ashes still had a tiny spark. I’d somehow kept the fire going overnight, like a vigilant cavewoman, by doing nothing more than sleeping under a magic blanket.
I slipped inside the Sun Hut on the dot of 10a.m. and quietly stomped the snow off my boots. Ten of the guests sat cross-legged at Tore’s feet, staring up at him adoringly, waiting for him to speak.
‘Good morning. Today you will get to experience the geothermal pools here that are etched into the mountain. There are eight in total, each one with a different level of heat and velocity. Some are hot, some are mineral-heavy and very buoyant, some have a lot of pressure running through them, but I’ll leave you to discover which is which for yourselves. Please enjoy.’
Everyone stood up and started milling about.
‘Oh, and to remind you all,’ Tore shouted over the din. ‘You must have a naked shower – with soap – before you get in the pool.’Obsessed.‘The PH balance of our pools is extremely delicate and very precious to us. Perfume, deodorant, body creams and oils, anything like this, can ruin it.’
I sidled over to Ethel, who was the only other person standing. ‘Morning,’ I whispered.
She briefly lowered her ear trumpet to acknowledge me, looking the height of silver-screen sophistication in her long-sleeved swimsuit and fabulous tartan cloak. Super Gran on tour.
Henrik walked in, followed by a muscly double who could only be his brother. They were wearing matching red swimming trunks that left little to the imagination and Firefly robes. I’d been too distracted by possible death in the sauna the other night, and then possible death in the snow, to properly appreciate Henrik’s body. I needed to get back in the saddle and holiday was always the best place to let loose. No recriminations. I flashed him a smile to test the water, and he looked back at me confused.
‘If the pool feels hot on your skin, get out immediately and take a seat in the relaxation area,’ Tore said. ‘We don’t want to take any risks. No jumping, diving or splashing. And if you somehow get water in your mouth – spit, don’t swallow.’
That got a few titters.
‘Sounds like this will be a right laugh,’ I muttered.
Ethel gave me a sharp look.
‘It’s a lot of rules for a hot tub, isn’t it?’
‘You’re always complaining,’ she said, with a frown. ‘Try being a little more positive. You might surprise yourself.’
‘Me?!’ I turned round in case she was talking to someone else. ‘I’m not complaining… I was justsaying.’
‘Far too muchsayinggoing on then, if you ask me. First the weather and the food, then the Wi-Fi, and now this. The rules are there to keep the pools clean, so we can all enjoy them. Don’t go in if you’re going to spoil it for the rest of us.’
The other guests were looking at us, and I could feel my cheeks burning as Ethel strode off towards the showers. It had been a while since I’d been told off like that and my heart was racing. How dare she! I was supposed to be on an uber-glam spa break,never not knowinglybeing massaged and half-cut on dirty martinis.
‘Are you OK, Sara?’ Tore asked, a concerned look on his face.
‘Yes,’ I said, forcing a smile onto my face. ‘I was just telling Ethel how much I’m looking forward to this.’
‘And you are having a naked wash?’ he asked.
Like I had a choice. ‘Absolutely. I’ll just wait until some of the others come out.’ I was starting to worry they had cameras set up and we were being livestreamed on the dark web.
I poured myself a glass of water for the stress and Henrik came over with his sausage-smuggling sibling.
‘Sara, I’m not sure you’ve met my brother, Jonas?’
‘I haven’t. Hi – lovely to meet you.’
‘Likewise,’ Jonas said, shaking my hand. Another tree of a man with the same melt-in-the-mouth chocolate eyes as Henrik, but with bottle-bleached hair, as opposed to Henrik’s dark blond, professional surfer vibe.
‘Jonas is the head chef here and makes all the cakes and pastries for breakfast – and the sourdough, of course.’
