by Hanna Allen
Harry, who’d been staring at Jonas, drew himself up. ‘The father is certainly not very sociable. In fact he’s downright rude. He ignored me in Stockholm when I tried to speak to him.’
Jonas’s words were now so slurred I could hardly make them out. ‘That is not very nice. He should come here and apologise.’ He aimed at the word several times and still missed. Hunching his shoulders, he planted his hands on the table and scraped the chair back. He staggered to his feet, overturning the chair with a clatter. Swaying alarmingly, he thrust his head forward and lurched across the room. I knew this type of drunk: soaked enough to lose the use of his legs but never enough to lose the contents of his stomach.
Marcellus sprang to his feet and put himself between Jonas and his father. ‘I suggest you return to your table, sir,’ he said.
Jonas tried to stand straight. ‘And if I don’t?’
‘I might forget my manners,’ he said softly.
A murmur rippled through the room. One of the waiters stepped forward, but his companion caught him by the arm, and shook his head.
Marcellus and Jonas were large and evenly matched. But Marcellus was a martial arts expert, and Jonas was drunk. His friends leapt from their seats and pulled him away. He grumbled loudly, trying to shake them off, but he was outnumbered. They dragged him unceremoniously from the room, still protesting, and his shouts grew weaker as they stumbled down the stairs.
Marcellus resumed his seat and he and Wilson continued their conversation as though nothing had happened. I watched him pour wine for his father, a faint smile on his lips, and wondered idly how often he had to deal with the Jonases of this world. He caught my eye, and nodded briefly. I smiled back.
Mike’s voice cut into my thoughts. ‘Pity about that.’ He sounded genuinely disappointed. ‘I was keen to see how it was going to end. I’d have put money on Marcellus, given the condition the other feller was in.’
Harry was subdued, but his expression said it all: he, too, seemed disappointed that Jonas’s attempt at a confrontation had been thwarted. Liz slipped her hand into his and leant into him, smiling, saying something I couldn’t hear.
The waiter brought coffee, and reloaded the tray with the empty bottles, muttering under his breath. I was relieved that Jonas’s half-hearted challenge had come to nothing. But as I drank, I couldn’t dispel the image of Marcellus, chest puffed out like a cock pigeon, balling his fists, ready to smash them into Jonas’s face.
Chapter 7
It was Tuesday, the day of the snowmobile safari, and we were boarding the coach. The sun was a pale yellow ball, grazing the horizon.
As Leo Tullis conducted the name check, I scanned the seats. Liz and Harry were at the back, chatting with Mike. The Ellises, dressed as though leading an expedition to the Pole, were sitting behind the driver.
Wilson’s voice boomed out, a few rows behind. ‘Have you been on a snowmobile before, ma’am?’
I craned my neck. He was sitting with Jane Galloway.
She smiled shyly. ‘Never.’
‘The first time I rode on one of these contraptions was when I visited Greenland. It was quite an experience, I can tell you.’ He began a rambling monologue about the pros and cons of snowmobiles versus husky-drawn sledges, leaning in so close that she was forced to draw her head back.
Marcellus was missing; I noticed he’d skipped breakfast. Perhaps the cold had defeated him. But, as the driver started the ignition, he boarded the coach.
He lowered himself into the seat beside me. ‘Good morning, ma’am,’ he said softly. He unfastened his parka, snapping the poppers one by one, his hand moving slowly down the jacket. He opened it out, but kept it on. ‘I’m sorry about that little spat last night. I hope it didn’t spoil your dinner.’
‘Does that sort of thing happen often?’ I said quietly.
‘Someone wanting to take a swipe at my father?’
‘That’s one way of putting it.’
He looked away. ‘It happens.’
‘You must be constantly on your guard.’ I glanced at his chest. It was the sort you could hang forty medals on. ‘What brand of martial arts do you practise?’
‘Shotokan.’ I must have looked blank because he added, ‘It’s the no-nonsense brand.’
‘Your father told me he was once nearly kidnapped, and that you act as his bodyguard now.’
He swung round, his neck jerking so sharply that the bones cracked.
God, he must have thought I was criticising him. ‘Although I’m sure he can rest easy with a martial arts expert around,’ I said quickly.
‘I like to think so.’ His eyes searched my face. He smiled faintly, a movement at the corner of his mouth that had more to do with politeness than friendliness.
I turned away. We journeyed in silence.
A familiar voice rose above the general hum of conversation. Jonas Madsen, sitting in front of us, had turned to shout to someone at the back. His face was mottled, his red-rimmed eyes, bloodshot, and he stank of beer.
‘Erik!’ The rest was in Danish.
Erik shouted something back which ended the conversation. Jonas, turning away, caught sight of Marcellus. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into an expression of distaste. For one electrifying moment, I thought he was going to take a swing at Marcellus, but good sense prevailed and he settled down in his seat. Marcellus gazed calmly at the back of Jonas’s head. The look on his face was unreadable.
We were approaching the snowmobile depot. Leo Tullis was giving us some brief information about the trip, for the benefit, he said in a mocking but good-natured way, of those who hadn’t bothered to read his notice. The part I assimilated was that lunch would be at the top of the mountain.
The depot was a slatted wooden building hulking inside a wire-fenced enclosure. A line of snowmobiles stood outside. I did a quick head count. We were sixteen, so we could have a machine each.
We disembarked, and Leo led us into the building. Chattering excitedly, we assembled in a waiting room consisting of half a dozen rickety chairs and a foam sofa. There was a strong smell of tar. Leo disappeared and returned shortly with a burly man in snowsuit and boots.
Leo lifted his arms to get our attention. ‘This is our guide. His name’s Sven. I can’t pronounce his surname,’ he added with a grin.
Sven laughed and clapped Leo on the back, sending him sprawling. ‘Snowsuits are in the changing room.’ His voice was guttural, the accent thick. ‘Then we’ll start the machines. You can ride on your own, or with a partner.’ He caught my eye and winked.
In the changing room, a smaller version of the Activities Room, Harry sidled up to me. ‘Maggie, can I ride pillion with you? I’m a bit nervous about going on one of these contraptions on my own.’
‘You’ll have to hang on, Harry.’ I kept my voice matter-of-fact. ‘I’m a bit of a speed demon.’
‘My dear, how fast can you go in that old banger of yours? Forty? And I should imagine that’s downhill with a following wind.’
Liz was clambering into a white suit. ‘Are you riding with me, Mike?’ She buttoned her hood.
‘Sure,’ he said, after a pause.
His expression suggested he might have preferred a machine to himself. I smiled inwardly. Whatever Liz had intended, she may have miscalculated.
We lined up behind the snowmobiles and watched Sven demonstrate the controls.
‘It sounds deceptively simple, Maggie,’ Harry said nervously.
‘It has to be. Most of the people using these are tourists.’
Sven finished his demonstration. ‘Remember that once you get going it will be noisy. If you are in pairs, you won’t hear each other speak, so don’t try. And I would keep your hood up and your gloves on because, although the handles are heated, there is a strong wind chill. I will be at the front and Leo at the back, so there’s no danger of anyone getting lost.’ He stroked his cheek thoughtfully. ‘Although you would be surprised how people still manage it. I lost three machines last season.’
I stole a look at Harry. I could tell this was something he hadn’t wanted to hear.
Sven climbed onto the front snowmobile. At Harry’s insistence, we took the next machine in line.
‘I want the guide in my sights the whole time,’ he said, eyeing Sven. ‘Not just because he’s a magnificent specimen, but because I don’t fancy my chances with the polar bears.’
‘Harry, there are no polar bears here.’
He looked at me over the top of his reading glasses. ‘We’re north of the Arctic Circle, dear girl, which means that polar bears are a distinct possibility. And where there are polar bears, man is not top of the food chain.’
I removed his glasses gently and tucked them into his breast pocket, before climbing into the front seat. Harry pulled up his hood and clambered on behind me. I started the ignition, revving the engine experimentally. The snowmobile jerked forward, and Harry flung his arms around my waist, clinging on as though his life depended on it. Sven moved away and we followed in an orderly line.
We went slowly at first, gathering speed as our confidence grew. Once through the double gates marking the depot boundary, we were in wilderness. The terrain was varied: we travelled mostly on paths snaking through the tundra, although once we crossed a main road. Every so often Sven stopped us using a prearranged signal, then he and Leo did a quick count. The first time we stopped, I asked Harry if he wanted to try the controls, but he gaped at me as though I’d grown horns.
‘You must be joking, my dear. If I tried to drive, I’d inflict grievous bodily harm on this machine, and we’d find ourselves in a ditch. No, you’re doing so well. But you might think about slowing down. If we go any faster, we’ll travel back in time.’
‘I’m keeping up with Sven,’ I said in mild irritation. ‘That’s hardly fast.’
At the next stop, which was longer and gave us an opportunity to stretch our legs, I left Harry and went to find Liz.
She was rubbing her backside, Mike watching her. ‘I’m saddle-sore already, Mags, even through this thick suit.’
‘You’re too skinny.’ I grinned. ‘You need a derrière like mine.’
‘How’s Harry managing?’ said Mike.
‘He thinks we’re going to be eaten by polar bears.’
The Bibbys were with their snowmobile near the back of the line. They were deep in conversation, Marcellus holding his mobile to his ear. ‘Don’t even think about dicking me around, pal,’ I heard him say into the phone, his voice measured.
There was a sudden shout. Jonas was ambling towards them, bellowing and gesticulating.
Marcellus lowered the phone. ‘Pardon me?’
Jonas pushed him hard in the chest with both hands. Marcellus dropped the phone, falling back, and would have lost his footing had his father not grabbed his shoulders and steadied him.
‘What’s your problem, asshole?’ Marcellus hissed, squaring up to Jonas. ‘You want to take a pop at me? Okay, then. So, come on.’
I stared, appalled. ‘There’s going to be a fight.’
Jonas lunged, taking a wide swipe, but Marcellus side-stepped the blow neatly and, with a simple but effective martial arts manoeuvre, forced him to the ground. A circle of people formed. Jane stood next to me, white-faced, a spray of red hair escaping from her hood.
Leo reached the scene ahead of Sven. ‘What the hell’s going on?’
Marcellus was bending over Jonas, holding his wrist in an excruciatingly painful grip.
‘You,’ Leo shouted to Marcellus. ‘Let him go.’
Marcellus released his grip and Jonas fell backwards.
‘Now tell me what happened,’ Leo said, running a hand over his face.
Marcellus spoke quietly. ‘I was talking on my cell when this lunatic lunged at me, sir.’
‘He’s telling the truth,’ Robyn Ellis said, jabbing an indignant finger at Jonas. ‘That man is drunk. He shouldn’t be on our trip.’
A murmur ran through the group.
Wilson was standing well back, watching the scene with cold amusement.
Leo pushed a hand through his hair. He raised his voice so we could all hear. ‘Right then, if there’s any more trouble, the trip’s off and we all go back. Do you understand?’ He looked at Jonas who was brushing snow from his suit. ‘Do you understand?’ he shouted.
Jonas hesitated. ‘Ja, ja,’ he said quietly. With a murderous glance at Marcellus, he loped back to his friends, who crowded around him, yelling in Danish.
Sven jerked his head towards the snowmobiles. ‘Time to go, everyone.’
Harry had joined us, and was watching the scene, quivering with excitement.
‘Really, Harry,’ Liz said disapprovingly, ‘all this testosterone.’
‘Yes, absolutely splendid.’
‘That was stupid of Jonas,’ I said. ‘Ballsy, but stupid.’
Mike stopped Leo as he trudged past. ‘I thought you handled that brilliantly.’
Leo lifted his eyes wearily. ‘I’ve been on the course. Dealing With Difficult People.’
‘I’m sure it’s nothing to be concerned about,’ I said. I felt my lips twitch. ‘Just alpha males, marking their territory.’
The men glared at me.
We set off on the final leg, and crossed the frozen lake. The last hurdle was the ascent of the mountain. Sven took a circular route, not the fastest way, but the easiest. It was heavy going, and made me even more determined that Harry should drive on the way back.
I glanced at the sky. A faint band of grey cloud smeared the horizon. I felt the blood sing in my ears: my chances of seeing the aurora tonight were good.
The woodland grew denser, and the incline steeper, but the path was wide and the machines had little difficulty making the final climb. We emerged from forest into a steep clearing, crowned with a brightly-painted chalet. To our left was an iron railing. A flight of wooden steps, swept free of snow, led to the summit.
Sven gave the signal to stop, and waited until we’d cut the engines. He motioned up the slope. ‘It is too steep to ride further. We will park the snowmobiles beside the steps, one in front of the other. We must make sure the machines are secure. I will check the brakes.’
‘That was a magnificent ride,’ Harry was saying. ‘I must say it’s made me feel quite peckish. See you at the top.’ He grasped the railing and moved stiffly up the steps, walking like John Wayne.
I watched as Sven double-checked my brakes.
‘This is how you lock.’ He pulled the lever. ‘I have to make sure everyone understands how to do it. The lever is a bit stiff. But try.’
I fumbled under the handle.
‘Better if you remove your mitten. Yes, good. Now, to unlock the brakes, move the lever in the other direction. Try.’
I pushed the lever, surprised at the smoothness of the mechanism; it needed only a light touch. I pulled the lever and relocked the brakes.
Sven nodded, then moved on to the next machine. ‘No need to stay,’ he said, seeing my hesitation. ‘I would go to the chalet before the food disappears. How do you say it? First arrived, first served.’ He motioned down the slope. ‘But, after lunch, you should take a walk.’
‘What’s down there?’
‘A magnificent view. The best in these parts. It is one of the reasons we bring visitors here. Mind your step, though. There is a ledge you have to climb over – see there where the ground flattens – but then the path takes you through the trees straight to the vista point. You can’t miss it.’
‘Thank you.’ I tramped up the slope towards the chalet, my boots sinking in the soft snow.
Lunch was a ragoût of reindeer meat, followed by sticky berry cake. I left the others, and took my plate outside to one of the trestle tables bolted to the ground. It was warm out of the shade, and I turned my face to the sun.
‘You should be careful. The air is thinner here.’ Jonas was plastering his skin with a white powdery cream, his blunt fingers moving over his face in rapid strokes. His eyes were still blo
odshot and he looked as though he were nursing a hangover.
‘How are you feeling today?’ I said coldly.
‘I shouldn’t have had so much to drink last night.’ He hesitated. ‘Did I behave badly?’
‘Can’t you remember?’
‘It is a blur, I’m afraid.’
He must have taken my hesitation for censure, because he continued in a shamed voice, ‘I am trying to drink less, but it is difficult. You see, I am from Copenhagen,’ he added, as though that explained everything. ‘If I have offended you, I cannot apologise enough.’
I wasn’t the one needing the apology, I thought, remembering his recent treatment of Marcellus. He seemed more concerned about his heavy drinking than about throwing a punch at someone. But I said nothing.
He turned away and walked down the incline, shoulders hunched.
‘Look, Liz,’ I heard Harry say, ‘I am not driving one of those things. Maggie is perfectly proficient and I’d be a poor second at it. Maggie, will you make Liz see reason? She thinks I need excitement in my life.’ He sat down heavily. ‘She wouldn’t say that if she witnessed the Punch and Judy of Faculty Council meetings.’
Mike had followed them out. He stretched, yawning. ‘I’m taking a look around. Fancy a walk to that vista point, Liz?’
‘You go, Mike,’ she said, not looking at him. ‘I’ll catch you later.’
He shrugged, then took his beer to where Jonas was standing near the snowmobiles. He thumped him on the arm to get his attention. A minute later, their raucous laughter reached us.
I was amused at Liz’s show of loyalty. ‘Don’t worry about Harry and me, Liz. Go and join Mike.’ I leant my head against the wall. ‘I’m going to take a little snooze.’
She hesitated for only a second, then left, making her way slowly down the steps.
I was nodding off when I felt a sharp tap on my arm. Harry was staring straight ahead.
A family of reindeer had appeared from behind the chalet. They skittered about nervously, the big male pawing the ground with a scarred hoof. They stopped not far from the table, and gazed at us for several seconds, their liquid eyes wide with curiosity. Just as suddenly, they lost interest and moved away, nuzzling the ground.