I squinted up at the empty sky. ‘Where?’
‘There.’ Henrik stood behind me, his aftershave giving me butterflies as his cheek hovered next to mine. He pointed at the murky-looking mist swirling overhead.
‘The cloud?’
He nodded. I kept trying to see, in case it was like some kind of magic-eye poster. Staringintothe cloud rather thanatthe cloud, then crossing my eyes to get a different perspective. But no. Nothing.Nada.The others were all gasping in delight and taking photos.
What was I missing?
‘Are you having me on? It’s pitch-black up there. No greens, or purples or blues?’
‘The lights aren’t always in colour, but there’s an app you can download to turn them green if you like?’
‘I have toturnthem green?’ I said, confused. ‘Isn’t that how they come? The Arctic tribes didn’t have mobile phones, so how did they see them?’
‘Trust me, Sara. I’ve witnessed the aurora many times, and you’re looking at it.’
I tried again to see what was in the framed photos in my cabin. But it was no good – it was just a load of grey clouds.
‘Well, if this is what they really look like, I want my money back!’ I said, faux-outraged.
Henrik smiled. ‘Other colours are available, you’ll see.’
‘With different apps?’ I said, facetiously.
‘The lights aren’t an on-demand service I’m afraid. They turn up how they like, when they like. Sometimes like this, sometimes green or purple, and sometimes all the colours of the rainbow at once. So, I can understand how you might feel this is somewhat… underwhelming.’
‘To say the least.’
A shaft of green light shimmered in the corner of the cloud, and Kimi squealed.
I silently rolled my eyes.Oh, pur-lease.
‘So young and yet so cynical,’ Henrik said. ‘You can see the colour trying to break through, yet you still don’t believe it? Every version is different – that’s the magic of the aurora.’
Henrik’s gaze had cast some kind of spell on me, and I couldn’t stop staring at him, our eyes locked together. Maybe it was lack of sleep, or a subconscious response to his aftershave, but something carnal inside me wanted to clonk him over the head and drag him back to my cave for round two. I’d been convinced my love life was doomed post-Mark, yet here I was, being drawn to a new man and feeling all those feelings again.
The green flash started to glow brighter, illuminating the cloud from within for a second, before giving up and fizzling out.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I suspect that is the end of tonight’s show. Anamuse-boucheif you will of all the auroras yet to come. I hope you’ll get to see a more explosive, exciting version before you go home.’
Hmm. Suspect was right. Celeste started her harp back up, plucking the strings rhythmically next to Jonas on the bongos, and Tore threw a handful of powder into the bonfire, turning the flames a deep blue. They sparkled and flashed for a few seconds before turning back to yellow, then he did it again and the fire turned white, then green. Everyone whooped and cheered as Greta started off the dancing. Barefoot, she untied her hair, shaking it out and swaying to the beat of Jonas’s drums, and Tore took to the mic, singing a low, melodic tune.
‘Heiemo og Nykkjen,’ Henrik whispered in my ear. ‘An old Norwegian folk song.’ I watched as Ethel stood up and the others stepped closer to the fire one by one, moving to the music in different ways. The flames joined in, dancing in the wind, and I shivered with pleasure, feeling an all-consuming calm. I wasn’t sure if it was the heat, the music, or being so close to Henrik.
‘Are you dancing?’ Henrik asked, holding out his hand.
‘Yes,’ I said simply, all my reservations disappearing, and I followed him over and kicked off my shoes.
The floor was surprisingly warm and spongy, and I could see rubber mats had been laid in a ring around the fire. They’d thought of everything. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the music, breathing deeply, feeling my feet on the floor and the air in my nostrils. Grounding myself in the moment, like Henrik told us to do in our meditation sessions. I felt self-conscious, awkwardly moving to Tore’s lament, even though we were all in it together. Yuto and Kimi danced cheek to cheek and Will was either channelling a spirit or having a seizure. Jonas must have slipped a cheeky psychedelic into his hot chocolate. I was curious to see Henrik’s moves, but it was difficult to look without being obvious. It would have been much easier to stare at him from the sidelines – even if the idea was to dance like nobody was watching.
Tore stopped singing and Greta went back to her flute as Celeste rejoined the group to dance. The drums pulsated through the trees as everyone started to move in time, and we followed each other around the fire. There was a table of musical instruments we could grab as we went past. Bells, cymbals, maracas, castanets – a random percussion selection to help with our self-expression. I took a tambourine to shimmy along with, then did a few side-slides to see what Henrik was up to behind me. His instrument of choice was a tiny gong, which was tricky to navigate while dancing. Jonas let out a battle cry, which started a chain reaction of whoops and squeals.
‘Woohoo!’ I called, but my voice was lost in the noise, so I tried again, shouting as loud as I could. ‘WOOHOOOOOO!’ Nobody turned or looked at me; everyone was concentrating on their own wailing, but the hit of adrenaline released something inside me, helping me dance more freely. I could feel myself letting go of my worry and embarrassment – my fear – and starting to move like I did in my kitchen disco after a few wines. Mark and I had loved a dance at home, but it was a much boozier affair in the flat on my own, usually involving at least one bottle of prosecco.
The music led the pace, starting off slowly as we all got into it, then turning jaunty and getting faster as we sped up the footwork, eventually reaching a crescendo. Jonas paused the drums while Greta played an intricate piece on her flute, then started up again, belting away like his life depended on it. The dancing turned to running as we tried to keep up with each other, and my heart felt fit to burst when he hit his final beat and silence descended. We stopped and clapped, ready to collapse as we bent over and gasped for breath, dizzy with dopamine.
‘Glad you did it?’ Henrik asked, lying on the floor next to me, panting.
I nodded. ‘I think so. I don’t really know how I feel; my brain has been disconnected from my body.’
He laughed. ‘Excellent. That’s the idea – shake the physical up, so your mind can’t override it. Active discombobulation.’
‘Is that what it’s called?’
‘That’s what I call it. All our activities are designed to discombobulate. It’s the Firefly way.’
