Massive in Lapland

by Ian Edwards

  Fredrik clapped him on the shoulder. ‘That’s the spirit Alan, always finding a positive angle.’

  A loud crash interrupted the conversation.

  ‘The Santa’s?’ Sarah asked.

  Fredrik got up from his seat and looked out of the window. He sneaked a peak from the bottom of the window sill. ‘Come and have a look at this,’ he called out.

  Alan and Sarah joined him at the window. They watched as several policemen attempted to separate the warring Santa factions.

  ‘I wonder how the police can tell who’s on whose side?’ Alan said.

  ‘Looks like we’re not going anywhere at the moment. Not until this lot have been moved on.’ Fredrik let the blind drop back into place and wandered over to the bar, picking up a bottle and three shot glasses.

  ‘Something to pass the time,’ he said, when he got back to the table.

  ‘What’s that?’ Alan asked.

  ‘This,’ Fredrik said, tapping the bottle, is the local brew. It’s pretty lethal stuff.’

  Sarah looked at the label. ‘I can’t even say that word.’

  Fredrik smiled. ‘I think the English translation is Brain Damage.’

  ‘I’ll stick with the beer thanks,’ Sarah said, and drank from her bottle.

  ‘Alan..?’ Fredrik said.

  ‘I’m in,’ Alan told him. ‘It’s either death by Santa or death by Brain Damage. And it’s a lot warmer in here.’

  Frankie watched as Fredrik poured small measures into two glasses. ‘Son, I really think you should give this a miss. You know you can’t take your drink.’

  Ignoring Frankie, Alan downed the shot in one. Fredrik and Sarah stared at him.

  ‘Well?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Not too bad at all,’ Alan said hoarsely.

  ‘You’re supposed to take little sips,’ Fredrik said, taking a sip to emphasise the point. ‘I’ve never seen anyone lose their voice after one drink before.’

  Alan picked up the glass and waved it under Fredrik’s nose.

  ‘I’m not really sure you should have another just yet,’ Fredrik said. ‘It normally takes a few minutes for the full effect to hit home.’

  Alan mouthed something which a qualified lip reader would probably have said was, ‘I’ll be the judge of that, just top me up.’

  Fredrik shrugged his shoulders, apologised to Sarah and poured another measure into Alan’s glass. Alan lifted the glass to his lips and poured it straight down.

  Sarah and Fredrik watched as Alan blinked several times, licked his lips, undid a couple of buttons on his shirt, tried to stand up and passed out. Fredrik caught him as he headed face first towards the table and lowered him back to his seat.

  Frankie looked closely at his unconscious friend, sighed deeply, and said ‘Lightweight.’

  Chapter 12.

  The rattle of cups woke Sarah from her slumber. She opened her eyes and watched as Fredrik busied himself behind the bar. She had spent the night sleeping in a particularly uncomfortable chair which had seized her joints. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned.

  ‘Good morning Sarah,’ Fredrik said as he placed a steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of her.

  Sarah smiled weakly and reached for the coffee.

  ‘How did you sleep?’ Fredrik asked as he took the seat opposite her.

  She rubbed her eyes. ‘OK, I think.’ The events of the night before slowly coming back to her. ‘Thanks for letting us stay here last night.’

  ‘I think it was the best option,’ Fredrik said.

  Sarah thought back to the previous evening and the riot outside the bar. Two Santa gangs coming to blows, the accumulative effect of mulled wine and too many glasses of sherry. The eventual arrival of the police only making the situation worse.

  ‘There’s no way we’re going out through that,’ Fredrik had said and suggested that they stay in the bar for the night.

  ‘How is he?’ Sarah asked looking under a table at Alan’s sleeping form.

  ‘He hasn’t moved since he passed out. I’ve checked on him a few times to make sure he’s still breathing.’

  Sarah picked up her mug and walked over to Alan’s table. She noted that Fredrik had covered him with a blanket and put a cushion under his head.

  ‘Do people normally react like this?’ She asked.

  ‘Hard to say,’ Fredrik said. ‘People don’t normally knock back two shots like he did last night. He hasn’t got any medical conditions has he? Episodes of fainting, high blood pressure anything like that?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘Not that I know of.’

  Sarah and Fredrik shivered as Frankie appeared next to them.

  ‘Hasn’t he woken up yet?’ Frankie asked indifferent to the fact that no one could hear him.

  ‘I suppose we’ll just have to let him sleep it off,’ Sarah said.

  ‘There’s some smelling salts in the first aid bag. If he’s still asleep in an hour I’ll get them out,’ Fredrik told her.

  Frankie watched as Sarah and Fredrik walked back to their table to finish their coffee. He lent over Alan and gave him a gentle push. Alan snored gently.

  ‘Right,’ Frankie said. ‘It’s time to wake you up, son.’

  He wandered over to the bar and peered over the counter. He found what he was looking for and walked round to collect it. He glanced over to where Sarah and Fredrik were deep in conversation and slowly picked up the ice bucket. The ice had long since melted, but water would do just fine.

  ‘I think I’m getting the hang of this,’ Frankie said as, unseen by Sarah and Fredrik he carried the bucket over to where Alan still lay. ‘OK, son, this is your last chance. Wake up!’

  Alan stirred slightly then snored.

  Frankie shook his head sadly. ‘You’ve given me no choice,’ he said as he tipped the contents of the bucket over Alan’s sleeping form.

  The shock of being drenched in cold water jerked Alan awake with a string of expletives. ‘What? What the hell?’

  ‘What happened?’ Sarah asked appearing alongside him.

  ‘You threw water over me,’ Alan told her.

  ‘No we didn’t,’ she denied.

  ‘Look,’ Fredrik said, picking up the upturned bucket. ‘You must have knocked it over in your sleep.’

  Alan raised himself up on his elbows and saw Frankie smiling at him from behind Sarah and Fredrik. ‘You bastard.’

  ‘Alan!’ Sarah barked. ‘That’s no way to talk to Fredrik. He was going to wake you with smelling salts not water.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean you,’ he apologised. ‘I meant me, what an idiot.’

  ‘No problem,’ Fredrik said. ‘Must have been a shock being woken like that.’

  Alan stood up and then sat straight back down on one of the seats.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Sarah asked.

  He rubbed his hands across his face. ‘Like a rhino has set up camp in my head.’ He looked at Fredrik. ‘I remember having a shot of something, then nothing.’

  ‘You’ve been asleep for hours,’ Sarah said. ‘I thought you were in a coma.’

  ‘Here you go,’ Fredrik said and passed him a mug of coffee.

  Alan took a mouthful, wincing slightly at the bitterness. ‘Aren’t we supposed to be going home today?’

  ‘In about…’ Sarah looked at her watch. ‘Three hours.’

  Alan nodded and drunk some more coffee. ‘OK, time enough to go back to the hotel, get our bags and get to the airport.’

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting about something?’ Sarah asked.

  Alan shook his head. ‘Don’t think so.’

  Sarah and Fredrik stared at him. Frankie shook his head. ‘I think you’re forgetting about the small matter of Lapland’s most famous comedian and master of disguise.’

  ‘You mean Pekka? Alan said.

  ‘At last,’ Sarah clapped her hands. ‘He gets it.’

  ‘You need to think of something quickly,’ Frankie told him.

  Alan rubbed his head and
stood up. ‘We need to do something about Pekka don’t we?’

  Sarah nodded. ‘And his manager.’

  ‘OK, let me think for a second,’ Alan paced the room.

  ‘I think I might have an idea,’ Frankie said, leaning against the bar.

  ‘What?’ Alan mumbled.

  ‘I had a very similar situation in 1944. I was behind enemy lines…’

  Across the room Sarah whispered to Fredrik. ‘He’s talking to himself,’ she said.

  ‘Does he do that often? Do you think he’s working something out?’ Fredrik asked.

  ‘Oh yes, definitely,’ Sarah replied, somewhat unconvincingly.

  ‘So that’s it? That’s your plan?’ Alan said, incredulously.

  Frankie nodded. ‘It is an old favourite. Never let us down. We did it loads of times during the war.’

  ‘OK. So, let me get this right. We assess the situation, the likely actions that could be taken by our opponent and consider all our possible options.’

  ‘Don’t forget we assess our strengths and weaknesses and our opponent’s strengths and weaknesses. We have to consider that too.’ Frankie reminded him.

  ‘Oh, yes, sorry. So we do all that. The assessing and considering, strengths and weaknesses…’

  ‘Yes.’ Frankie confirmed.

  ‘And then…’

  ‘Go on,’ Frankie urged.

  ‘We run away…’ Alan completed.

  Frankie nodded. ‘Exactly. Grab your bags and get out of there faster than you can say “reindeer’s head on my pillow”. Easy.’

  ‘It seems a bit simple for an escape plan,’ Alan pointed out.

  ‘And that’s the beauty of it. It’s the last thing Pekka will expect. And if you avoid him, you avoid his manager.’

  Alan nodded. ‘In the absence of a sensible plan, it’ll do.’

  Sarah watched as Alan made his way back to them. ‘He’s smiling,’ she said to Fredrik. ‘That’s a good sign.’

  ‘OK,’ Alan said. ‘I’ve given it a lot of thought and I think that our best option is to make a tactical withdrawal.’

  Sarah frowned. ’Do you mean run away?’

  ‘It’s a bit more sophisticated than that. But essentially, yes. Look, we go back to the hotel, sneak in through the back, you grab our bags and we get out of there quicker than a sex tourist after the law changes.’

  ‘What do you mean, I grab our bags?’

  ‘They’re in your room remember. I haven’t been back to mine since I found the reindeer head.

  ‘What are you going to be doing while I’m dragging our bags through the hotel?’

  ‘This is the clever bit,’ Alan grinned. ‘I’m going to cause a diversion so you can slip unseen out of the hotel.’

  ‘With all the bags.’

  ‘Yes, with all the bags.’

  Frankie sidled up to Alan. ‘She doesn’t seem convinced.’

  ‘Trust me Sarah, this will work,’ Alan reassured her.

  ‘You’ve nothing to lose,’ Fredrik said. ‘Pekka knows you’re leaving today, so he’ll be hanging around.’

  ‘Right. So, what kind of diversion are you planning?’ Sarah asked, still unconvinced.

  ‘A big one,’ Alan smiled.

  ‘You haven’t a clue have you?’ Frankie said.

  Choosing to ignore Frankie, Alan continued. ‘So Miss Gayle, unless you want to start sending out wedding invites and arranging flights out here for your nearest and dearest, I suggest you get your coat.’

  Alan sat at the bar while Sarah sorted herself out. He could hear Fredrik making a telephone call.

  ‘I’ve ordered you a cab, it’ll be here in ten minutes.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Alan said. ‘And thanks for the…’ he tapped his head, ‘the memory loss.’

  Fredrik laughed. ‘Here,’ he passed Alan the bottle of “Brain Damage.” ‘Take this and drink a toast to Lapland with your Christmas dinner. Make it a Christmas to remember.’

  ‘More likely a Christmas not to remember.’

  ‘OK, I’m ready,’ Sarah zipped her coat as she walked over to join them.

  ‘Look, a present from Lapland,’ Alan held the bottle. ‘Put it in there,’ he said, gesturing at her bag. ‘Otherwise I’ll probably lose it.’

  Sarah sighed and forced the bottle into her increasingly packed bag. ‘OK then, let’s see if this plan of yours is any good.’

  *

  ‘So you’re sure you know what to do?’ Alan asked Sarah as they watched their cab drive away.

  Sarah nodded. ‘Yes, I’m going straight up to our room, through the rear entrance.’ She pointed across the road at the Hotel’s staff entrance. ‘I’m going to get our bags, send you a text that I’m on my way, you’ll cause a diversion and we’ll sneak out and go to the airport.’

  ‘What could possibly go wrong?’ Alan said.

  Sarah smiled back at him.

  He avoided the temptation to pat her on the head, instead pointed her to the direction of the hotel. ‘Go on then, off you go.’

  Avoiding the temptation to kick him in the shins, Sarah replied, ‘Give me ten minutes,’ as she headed over to the hotel.

  *

  Sarah walked unchallenged through the staff entrance and made her way to the lifts. Despite her misgivings she had been pleasantly surprised how easy it had been. She checked that no one had followed her through the hotel and let herself into her room. Aside from a freshly made bed, it looked exactly as she had left it.

  She dropped her heavy bag on the bed and not wanting the bottle of Brain Damage to leak its contents over the bed she fished it out of the bag and stood it on the bedside table.

  She dragged her small suitcase from under the bed and quickly began to fill it with clothes, forgoing her usual neatness. Once her clothes had been stuffed into the case she moved to the bathroom. As the light flicked on she swept her toiletries into her wash bag before turning straight into Pekka.

  ‘What the hell are you doing there?’ She cried out.

  Pekka held out his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Sorry Sarah, I was coming up to see if you were here and the door was open. I didn’t mean to scare you.’

  ‘What are you doing here anyway?’ She repeated.

  ‘I told you, I was coming to see you. I thought we could all leave for the airport together.’

  Sarah sighed. Alan’s cunning plan had faltered at the first step.

  Pekka turned and manoeuvred his gigantic frame out of the small bathroom, Sarah following, her heart sinking. Pekka sat down on the bed, head against the headboard. ‘Have you made a decision yet?’ He asked.

  Sarah dropped her washbag into her case and began to squeeze it shut. Pekka watched her straining under the effort, leaned across and with no effort zipped the case closed.

  ‘I’m still thinking about it,’ she said

  ‘It’ll be brilliant,’ he said. ‘We can get married in a castle…You have lots of castles in England. I’ve seen it on television. One with a moat and a drawbridge.’ Pekka laid his head back on the headboard. ‘I’m already excited.’

  Sarah dragged her suitcase over to the door and dropped it next to Alan’s barely touched luggage.

  Pekka sat up again. His eyes wandered over the bedside table and fixed on the bottle of Brain Damage. ‘Let’s have a toast,’ he said. ‘To us.’ He unscrewed the lid and took two long gulps of the liquid before offering the bottle to Sarah. ‘Here’s to us.’

  ‘It’s too early for me,’ she said, shaking her head.

  Pekka shrugged. ‘Suit yourself,’ he drank from the bottle again.

  Sarah watched in shock as Pekka carried on drinking from the bottle. ‘I really don’t think you should be drinking too much of that,’ she warned. ‘It’s quite strong.’

  Pekka wrinkled his nose. ‘Don’t worry. I can handle it.’ He licked his lips. ‘To be honest, it’s a bit bland.’ He took another swig. ‘Where’s Alan?’ He asked.

  ‘Downstairs, waiting for me in reception.’ Sarah said, noticing
that Pekka had drunk more than half the bottle. ‘Pekka, I really think you should stop drinking that now.’

  ‘Nonsense, woman,’ he slurred. ‘I have an incredible tolerance for drink.’ He drank again to emphasise his point. ‘Do you know that you can tell how good a husband a man will make based on his ability to take his drink?’ He lifted the bottle up and gently moved it around. ‘Hardly any left,’ he said, finishing the bottle. He smacked his lips. ‘All gone. I think that proves you will find me a pretty good husband,’ he slurred again.

  Sarah was about to respond when Lapland’s most famous comedian passed out and fell off the bed with a bump.

  She stared down at Pekka’s unconscious body. ‘I hate to say I told you so, but I did warn you.’

  After checking Pekka still had a pulse, she took the empty bottle, placed a cushion under his head and covered him with the duvet from the bed.

  ‘I guess the wedding’s off then,’ she said.

  *

  Alan hid in the corner of the hotel reception behind the rack of post cards.

  ‘Can you see anything?’ He asked Frankie.

  ‘Like what?’ Frankie asked.

  ‘Pekka or his manager,’ Alan snapped back. ‘What do you think I meant? An impromptu gig by the Lapland Barber Shop Quartet?’

  ‘Sorry son. All clear here,’ Frankie reported back, stepping behind the postcard rack. ‘Lots of people coming and going, but no Pekka or the Lapland mafia.’

  ‘OK, that’s good,’ Alan said nodding. ‘Go on, get back out there, you’ll see nothing here behind the post cards with me.’

  ‘Have you heard from Sarah yet?’ Franke asked.

  Alan shook his head. ‘Not yet. She’s probably folding all her clothes into neat little piles.’

  Frankie peered through a gap in the postcards. ‘Still no sign.’

  ‘Just get out there will you?’ Alan told him.

  Frankie moved round the rack. ‘OK, keep your hair on.’

  ‘Hold on a second,’ Alan said as he checked his buzzing phone. ‘That’s Sarah.’ He read the message on the screen. ‘She’s on her way down.’

  ‘Time for your diversion then.’

  Alan smiled. ‘You see that fire alarm on the wall by the Christmas tree?’

  ‘What about it?’ Frankie asked