The Post Box at the North Pole: The perfect cosy and uplifting Christmas romance to curl up with in 2021!

by Jaimie Admans

  If Tav notices I’m holding his arm tighter as we carry on towards the post office, he doesn’t say anything. Bringing two members of staff back, even temporarily, feels like a huge step in the right direction.

  ‘What would you do about a kid on the cusp of not believing?’ I ask, thinking about the message Dad showed me. ‘Assuming an animated Tom Hanks isn’t going to turn up at midnight and offer him a ride on The Polar Express.’

  ‘Given your expansive knowledge of Christmas films for someone who supposedly hates Christmas, you and I need to have a festive movie night one of these days. I make a good cinnamon popcorn.’

  One of us lets out a wanton moan of pleasure. It was probably me again.

  He laughs at my noise. ‘I’d write him a letter saying Santa does exist, but not in the way he’s always thought. He exists in the hearts of everyone who keeps the spirit of Christmas alive, and that is true Christmas magic. Add that the spirit of Christmas is never lost for good and you hope he rediscovers it when he most needs it, and gets to share it with his own children one day.’

  And just like that, I’m choking up again as we reach the door of the post office and Tav stops at the bottom of the ramp.

  ‘You know you came in the wrong direction, right?’ I say, assuming his first task is to get the reindeer ready for visitors.

  ‘Walking with you is never in the wrong direction.’

  ‘Oh God, Tav.’ I do another guttural groan. ‘Are you trying to melt me or what?’

  He laughs and holds his arms open. ‘Can I?’

  I nod and go to hug him too, but he bends until his arms slide around my waist and stands back up, lifting me completely off the ground.

  I squeal and wrap my arms tightly around his shoulders, clinging on for dear life. I can feel his face shifting into a smile against my shoulder and I bury mine in his gorgeous tousled hair. His arms are so tight and make me feel so safe that I risk unfurling one hand and letting it rub over his shoulders, and this time it’s him who makes a noise of contentment. I can’t stop myself turning my head to the side and pressing a kiss to his earlobe, and it feels like his knees buckle because he wobbles and sets me back down quickly, but he doesn’t pull away.

  After we’ve stood there for an abnormally long time, his stubble scratches across my cheek as his lips press a kiss there and he pulls back, but his hands stay on my waist and mine stay on his arms, holding on for a moment longer.

  ‘I should be helping,’ I whisper because it feels like speaking at full volume would be wrong.

  ‘You are.’

  Two simple words, but that genuine feeling washes over me again. I feel valued here, like I’m doing something that makes a difference.

  ‘None of this would be happening without you, Sash. And I …’ He trails off instead of finishing the sentence. ‘I’d better go.’

  The familiar feeling of being bereft comes again as his hands drop and he steps away, and I have to have a stern word with myself about being so silly. ‘Shout if you need anything.’

  He stops in the middle of walking away and turns back with a grin. ‘You know what, I actually will.’

  I do a victory punch into the air and the corners of his eyes crinkle up as he laughs. ‘May the magic of Christmas twinkle throughout your day.’

  ‘Yours too, Tav,’ I say as I watch him walk back up the road and I find myself staring into the distance long after he’s out of sight.

  Being around him makes me feel giddy and excited, like a child on Christmas Eve night, lying awake listening for the sound of reindeer hooves on the roof, and I know one thing – going home is going to be more impossible than I thought.

  Chapter 14

  Dear Santa,

  No cookies and milk for you! You need to go on a diet. I’ll be leaving out some celery, a glass of water, and a Joe Wicks DVD. You can do this! Diet and exercise! Do you have gyms at the North Pole? If not, don’t put so much work on the elves and do some yourself. My nan says all those cookies aren’t good for you and you’ll get diabetes like her.

  From,

  Savannah

  It’s a Saturday afternoon a few days later, December 18th, and as I approach the bottom of the hill, Tav is outside the house, loading supplies into the back of a sleigh with a reindeer harnessed to the front of it.

  ‘Are you going somewhere?’

  ‘An injured reindeer has been found about fifty kilometres north. The person who found it thinks it might’ve been hit by a train. I’ve got to go and find it and see what we can do. Sorry, Sash, this is my job first and foremost. It has to take priority.’

  ‘Of course,’ I say, even though I hate the idea of Tav going away for any length of time. I have a limited number of days left here and I don’t want to lose any time with him, and judging by the amount of stuff he’s got packed into that sleigh, it’ll be a while. ‘How long will you be gone for?’

  ‘Just until tomorrow. If I leave now, I can stop overnight, find the reindeer first thing and be back by tomorrow afternoon. Monday is the start of Christmas week, we’re going to need all hands on deck so I don’t want to be gone longer than necessary.’

  I go over to talk to the reindeer harnessed to the front of the sleigh, enjoying a pile of lichen Tav’s put down for him. He doesn’t have any antlers and I think he’s the one I named Mr Bean. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m starting to recognise them. ‘Is it safe?’

  ‘Of course. I’ve done it thousands of times.’ He looks over and we hold each other’s gaze for a few long moments. ‘I’ll miss you, you know.’

  Before I have a chance to process that or admit I’ll miss him a truly ridiculous amount for someone I’ve only known for a few weeks, the front door opens and Dad bustles out with a picnic box in his hand. ‘Oh, good, are you all packed too?’ He says when he sees me. ‘I’ve put more than enough food in for both of you.’

  ‘I’m not going with him.’

  ‘Of course you are. I’m not sending him out into the forest on his own.’

  I laugh out loud at the idea of me being able to somehow protect Tav. ‘You do realise there are mountains smaller than him, right? If he ran into a polar bear, it would run away in fright.’

  ‘It’s fine, Perce,’ Tav says. ‘This is the only way I travel. You’ve never worried about me before. You need Sasha here because neither of us are going to leave you on your own overnight.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’m going to my friend’s house in the village. There’s a football match on. We’ll have a few beers and I’ll stop on his couch for the night; save toddling back up here after a nightcap.’ He turns to me. ‘So if you stay here, you’ll be completely alone. Apart from the wolves. And the polar bears. And the brown bears. Oh, and I saw footprints this morning that almost definitely belonged to a lynx.’

  I gulp.

  Tav looks between us. ‘You can come if you want, Sash. It’ll take me five minutes to hitch up another sleigh.’ He must be able to sense my apprehension because he says, ‘I’ll be right in front of you. We can tie together. My reindeer are well trained; you only need to know a few simple commands.’

  On the one hand, going off into the wilderness in a reindeer-drawn sleigh sounds terrifying, but so does staying here alone, and the promise of more time with Tav is enough to outdo all of the doubts.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’ I say to Dad, and I don’t miss the huge grin that breaks across Tav’s face and his valiant attempt at stifling it.

  ‘I won’t be here. I’m busy in my grotto for another couple of hours and my elves, Nils and Anja – that couple you met the other day – are here to help. They’re going to give me a lift down to my friend’s house when we close for the night, and tomorrow’s Sunday so we don’t open until late and things will be quiet.’

  Tav gives me an encouraging nod.

  ‘Okay. I’ll go and pack some clothes,’ I say, a bit bewilderedly. How do you go from barely leaving your house to heading out on a reindeer rescue mission w
ith someone who might possibly be the favourite man you’ve ever met?

  ***

  Despite being nervous, travelling by reindeer-pulled sleigh is amazing. It’s slow and steady and gives me a chance to look at the frozen world all around.

  Tav’s in front of me, following the map and setting the pace, and his sleigh is tied to mine so we don’t get separated. The reindeer themselves are expert sleigh pullers because they mosey along like it’s no bother at all. The one I named Pedro Pascal doesn’t seem to notice the extra weight he’s pulling as he trots along the snow, his hooves spreading as each foot touches the ground, like a built-in snowshoe.

  It’s only four o’clock but it’s as dark as the dimmest night, and it really is the wilderness out here. We’re climbing north, and the trees are bare snow-covered branches rather than the evergreens around the forest, but they’re still dense as we slide between them and overgrown skeletal bushes on well-worn but narrow paths.

  ‘Do you really travel like this all the time?’ I call to Tav.

  ‘I don’t drive, Sash. I haven’t got back in a car since …’ He abandons the sentence and I wish I’d asked when he was within hugging distance.

  At first I thought he was mad when he mentioned travelling by reindeer sleigh, but I can see how it’s the kind of lifestyle you could get used to, and it fits Tav’s laid-back persona perfectly. He doesn’t rush or get stressed about anything else; why should his mode of transportation be any different?

  The stars are twinkling above us, and the sky is so clear, I’m pretty sure I can see the entirety of the Milky Way. The air is so pure, it’s crisp and cold, but instead of biting at my lungs like it did at first, they feel clearer than they did at home.

  I don’t realise how quickly the hours pass. It’s the most peaceful thing I’ve ever done, being pulled along by the gentle trotting of a reindeer with only the sound of their hooves on snow, so quiet I can hear Pedro Pascal’s stomach gurgles and the clicks and grunts as he walks along.

  ‘Your dad set up the route.’ Tav has got out and is walking Mr Bean and following a map on his phone. ‘Our overnight stop is on a frozen lake that’s one of the most perfect places for seeing the Northern Lights. We should be coming up to it now …’ He trails off as he looks into the distance. ‘I can see the lavvu poles leaning against that tree.’ He halts both the reindeer and holds out a hand to pull me up from the sleigh. ‘We’ll have something to eat and settle down for the night, and then get off early in the morning so we’ve got a hope of making it back by tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘That was amazing, Tav. Talk about the way to travel.’

  He smiles as his eyes meet mine. ‘It’s old-fashioned. Even the Sami people use snowmobiles these days, but for me, it’s the safest way.’

  I’m still holding on to his hand and he involuntarily tugs me closer, and I’m sure he’s going to kiss me even though we’ve got our scarves pulled up over our noses, but eventually he blinks and pulls his gloved hand out from under my fingers.

  ‘I’ll set the lavvu up. Can you …’ He hands me both the reindeer reins, and I tie them to a tree, put down food pellets, and then collect some lichen that’s hanging from nearby branches because they deserve a treat after pulling us all this way.

  I don’t wander far enough to lose sight of Tav or run into a lynx, but when I get back, he’s got the huge poles arranged in some kind of tripod formation, like a tepee on the banks of the frozen lake.

  ‘Are you sure the Sami people won’t mind us using these?’

  ‘They’re here for weary travellers.’ He gets a huge fold of fabric from underneath his sleigh.

  The reindeer nibble the lichen greedily out of my hands, making me laugh at their enthusiasm. I quickly leave it with them when I realise Tav has unfolded the fabric and is trying to spread it out over the poles by himself.

  ‘Let me help.’ I take half before he can protest and between us we tie it onto one of the poles and wrap it around the sides to form a tent, leaving the top open.

  ‘Ventilation for the fire,’ Tav says when he sees me looking at it, thinking we must’ve done something wrong.

  ‘You make a fire in the tent?’

  He laughs at my lack of exposure to the ways of the outside world and starts unpacking the sleeping bags, while I go off and gather some sticks for the fire, and when I get back, the lavvu already looks like a snug winter den, the kind of place you’d voluntarily spend a night under the stars.

  He’s thrown down woollen blankets and two winter-weight sleeping bags are unfolded on top of them, and the fact they’re laid out side by side makes something inside me go all hot and fluttery. He’s gathered some stones to build a fire-pit, and he arranges the sticks and sets a match to them, and the tent fills with the crackle of wood burning.

  ‘Well, aren’t you just a regular Bear Grylls.’

  ‘What kind of bear is that?’

  It makes me laugh so loudly that Mr Bean drops his lichen in fright. ‘Believe me, no one’s worked that out yet.’

  The flap that forms the lavvu door is still open, but the fire offsets the cold night air coming in, and I’m impressed by how … easy … that was. Who knew you could fling a tent together in ten minutes flat? I mean, maybe everyone did, but I’ve never been camping before, so I didn’t. Or maybe it’s just how easy Tav makes it. Everything seems easier when he’s around.

  It’s cramped and Tav, unsurprisingly, can’t stand at full height inside. I nod towards the two sleeping bags. ‘It looks suspiciously like we might have to huddle for warmth.’

  ‘I was counting on it.’ He gives me a wink and a cheeky grin that makes my heart melt so much I’m in need of a blast of cold air.

  When I step back outside, there’s a flare of green overhead and I stop and stare. They’re not so much flashing and dashing tonight, but the sky has taken on a green tinge, brighter in some places than others, and getting stronger as I watch it.

  I let out a long breath, still mesmerised by the splashes of light even after seeing them so many times now, but Tav barely gives it a cursory glance. He’s building up another fire outside the tent, in front of a fallen log, and I look between the lights and him as he carries on working.

  ‘Tav, stop.’

  ‘Hmm?’ He glances up at me from where he’s crouched.

  ‘Stop for a minute. Take a breath. Look up.’

  I half expected him to ignore me and carry on, but he pushes himself up, looking towards the sky.

  The green fades to a ribbon of pale yellow, like a dragon appearing from the corner of my vision and weaving across the sky.

  Tav stands next to me; his hand is hanging limply by his side, so near that my glove brushes against his, and while I’m trying to persuade myself that it would be wrong to take his hand, his fingers close around mine.

  Shades of pinks and purples have crept into the sky now and the lights above us have started their usual swirling movements, and every curtain of light that twists above us is spellbinding.

  I’ve forgotten how cold it is. Our breath appears in front of our faces, but my whole body feels overwhelmed by every aspect of Tav filling my senses, his spicy almond cologne that blocks out everything apart from the spectacular light-show above us, and that feeling of being so incredibly lucky creeps up my spine again. I can’t believe this is my life.

  ‘Dance with me,’ Tav murmurs.

  I almost laugh at the thought. Dancing in the snow under the Northern Lights is so romantic, it’s bordering on cheesy, and if I’d seen it in a movie, I’d probably make puking noises, but I also think of what he said the other night, about Dancer and after the accident, and my hands have slid up his arms and closed over his shoulders before I realise I’m going to agree.

  His hands settle on my hips and hold me against him, and it feels like the kind of moment you need to be wearing delicate heels and a slinky, silky dress, not huge snow-boots and enough layers of clothing to rival that episode of Friends where Joey comes in wearing all
of Chandler’s clothes.

  My head finds his chest and rests against it, listening to the thump of his heartbeat through his clothes, and Tav starts humming “December Song” by George Michael as we step aimlessly across the snow, enjoying the closeness and the peace. I keep coming back to that word. I’ve felt nothing but peaceful since I came here.

  I tilt my head up. ‘I can’t remember the last time I danced.’

  His arms grow impossibly tighter. ‘You’re not going to punch me for suggesting something so tacky then?’

  It makes me burst into such laughter than both the reindeer look up from their lichen-munching in annoyance. ‘I’ll try to restrain myself.’

  ‘Good, because everyone should have a life that makes them want to dance occasionally.’

  I’m pretty sure the extreme temperature is the only thing that’s preventing me from melting right now.

  ‘How about you? Do you do a lot of dancing in the moonlight?’ I move my head against his chest, nodding towards the crescent moon, glowing above a mountaintop in the distance.

  ‘Not as much as I used to. Everything feels different since you got here though. You make me feel like dancing again.’

  I can’t contemplate the depth of those words. It makes me want to hug him tighter than is physically possible, but if he notices me squidging up a bit closer to his body then he doesn’t complain. It’s a good job his hair is hidden under a hat because I’m not sure I’d be able to stop my hands winding in it and dragging his lips down to mine.

  I stay silent instead, because silence has to be better than kissing Tav and doing something we can’t undo. No matter how much I want to, there’s still some sensible part of me saying I can’t kiss this man when I have to go home in January.

  Instead, I try to enjoy it for what it is – just a beautiful friend appreciating a beautiful, magical place. I’m humming along with “December Song” and although the Northern Lights are the most spectacular thing I’ve ever seen, they’re not as important as enjoying his closeness.