by CP Ward
The sun had appeared again from behind the cliff wall, but was dipping into the trees. Mr. Dawes, however, lifted a final string of lights and shook his head.
‘We’ve got one more to do.’
‘But we’ve done the loop, haven’t we?’
‘There’s still the tree. You missed it, didn’t you? When it’s covered in snow it tends to blend into the background.’
‘What tree?’
‘The Christmas Tree.’ He pointed into the centre of the lake. ‘Right there.’
Jessica stared. He was right. She hadn’t notice it before, but now that Mr. Dawes pointed it out, she saw there was a tiny island in the middle of the lake with a pine tree about two metres high sticking out. Its branches were laden with snow, but with a few of the lights they had strung behind now emitting a faint glimmer, it appeared out of the gloom like a snowy oasis.
‘It’s in a waterproof pot held in place by rocks,’ Mr. Dawes said. ‘But don’t tell anyone. Do you want the honour of stringing these lights over it or shall I?’
‘You mean, walk out on that ice? How thick is it?’
‘Oh, plenty thick enough. Wouldn’t handle twenty people, but you must be light as a feather. How many mince pies did you eat today?’
Jessica made a quick calculation. ‘Three. Plus two hot chocolates and a piece of some Christmas cake.’
‘That’s nothing. Off you go. Let an old man sit down for five minutes. No wonder I’m feeling all of my fifty years.’
‘You don’t look a day older than—’
Mr. Dawes chuckled and put up a hand. ‘Let’s leave it at twenty-five,’ he said. ‘I can handle that.’
Carrying the lights, Jessica started out onto the ice. The snow covering was only a couple of inches thick, and if she didn’t lift her boots it slid right off, leaving the slippery ice beneath.
She was halfway across when she caught her foot on a lump of protruding ice and stumbled. In a moment she was sitting on her bum, the hard ice quickly chilling through her trousers.
‘Ouch! I bet that hurt!’ Mr. Dawes cackled from the bench outside the cabin. ‘Quick, five second rule! Get up before it gets in!’
Not quite sure what he was talking about, Jessica pushed herself up and brushed the snow off her clothes. Then, carrying the lights delicately in one arm with the other extended to balance herself, she half slid, half hobbled the rest of the way out to the tree.
‘Good job,’ Mr. Dawes called. ‘Give it a shake first, then string those lights and you’ve earned your hot choc for the day.’
Jessica reached in through the snow and gave the tree’s trunk a little tug. The accumulated snow fell away to reveal a pretty little pine tree. Poking the solar receiver into the earth around its base, she wound the lights through its branches, ending with one big blue light right at the top.
Almost at the exact moment that she finished, the sun appeared through a break in the trees, hanging low to the distant horizon. Jessica was momentarily bathed in a spotlight of burnt orange light, then the sun began its dip beneath the distant hills. She stood watching, breathless, aware that this was one of the moments of her life that she would never forget, when the power of nature transcended all her real world problems, and reminded her of just how lucky she truly was to have the opportunity to experience something so wonderful.
And then, as the last rays of sun dropped below the horizon, all the lights blinked on.
From over by the cabin, Mr. Dawes began to clap and laugh at the same time. ‘Fantastic,’ he muttered. ‘Just fantastic.’
Jessica looked around her. Some of the lights were already fading out, the solar panels only partially charged, but the magic Mr. Dawes had talked about had given her a brief glimpse of its true wonder. She had a vision of laughing children whizzing around on the ice, lit by the stars and the ring of fairy lights.
‘Come on back, lass,’ Mr. Dawes called. ‘You’ve done a fine job.’
As Jessica hobbled back across the ice, only slipping a couple of times, Mr. Dawes opened the cabin door and switched on the light. Immediately the roof lit up with fairy lights he must have strung earlier, and inside Jessica saw the cabin was far larger than she had realised. A seating area had enough room for around twenty people, while a little door led off into a couple of other rooms. One sign said toilets. The other something she didn’t recognise, so she asked Mr. Dawes.
‘The Finnish sauna,’ he said. ‘It fits about ten, bum to bum. Except on Christmas Eve, when you have to sit on the floor.’
‘Why?’
‘Because that’s when the visiting spirits come to take a sauna,’ Mr. Dawes said. ‘According to Finnish tradition. You wouldn’t make them sit on the floor, would you? You have no idea how far they might have come.’
‘That’s wonderful.’
The old man laughed. ‘We have some special seat covers we put out just for the occasion. Nothing like a glide on the ice and then a warm sauna, followed by a steaming mug of hot choc and a sleigh ride home. Lovely for the kids and the couples.’
‘What about the Silver Tours lot?’
Mr. Dawes grimaced. ‘Logistical problem to get them out on the ice,’ he said. ‘They go on the sleigh ride, but getting them on the ice … I don’t know.’
Jessica was staring at a couple of pieces of old wood stacked in a corner. ‘Leave it to me,’ she said.
23
Thief
James was right. The following morning, after waking up early to begin work on the plan that had been buzzing in her head since the evening before, Jessica found she could barely get out of bed. After the morning’s struggles on the ski slope and the afternoon spent stringing fairy lights around the skating lake, she could barely lift her arms above her head. Feeling groggy, as though she’d been on the sauce the night before rather than hitting the sack just before ten, she stumbled down to the dining hall to get some breakfast.
This morning’s menu included Scandinavian Christmas waffles, and an Italian winter soufflé. Jessica, ravenous, devoured a huge plateful, even though the sheer effort of getting her fork up to her mouth had her breaking out with a sweat across her back. Upon arrival, she had quickly spotted Kirsten across the room, sitting with a group of bookish types, most in their mid-twenties. Jessica, on the cusp of thirty, not to mention technically being Kirsten’s boss, had begun to feel old. She had looked around for another familiar face to sit with, but seeing no one, had taken a spot at a free table near one of the fires.
Only as she heard Kirsten’s untethered laughter drifting across the room did Jessica realise how well her formerly shy trainee was settling in. It felt like Kirsten was an animal let out of a cage for the first time, smelling the flowers, seeing the snow. Aware that she was responsible, she felt both proud and jealous at the same time. When Kirsten and her friends got up and headed for the ski rental shop, Jessica felt a pang of regret. They looked like they were having so much fun.
Never far from her thoughts, she remembered the words of Theodora. All this could be hers if she could only get an answer out of Grandpa. The ski run, the lake, the hot spring, the beautiful grotto on the train line … it was like a fairytale land, and it could all be hers.
She looked around for Grandpa, but he was nowhere to be seen. No doubt he was already out on the slopes, or rock climbing, paragliding, or some other insane activity totally inappropriate for a man of his age.
Outside, the snow had begun to cascade. Mr. Dawes, giving her a brief wave, stumped past the window, a spade in each hand, heading for the trails. He had promised to show her the rest of the train line this morning, after she had finished mending the pipes in the lake station. First, though, she wanted to finish off what she was working on.
She was just clearing up her plates when Barry’s voice came over the loudspeaker. ‘All available staff to meeting room one-oh-nine. Five minutes please.’
She groaned, because Barry loved to call team meetings at the most frustrating times, usually for some trivial ma
tter that could be cleared up with a memo on the staff notice-board behind the reception desk. The most recent assembly had been simply to remind the staff to kick the snow off their boots before entering through the main entrance, a notification which had taken less time to explain than it had for people to sit down. Putting away her plates, Jessica caught the eyes of the kitchen staff, most of whom were wondering whether the “available staff” tag applied to them.
When she arrived at the meeting room a couple of minutes later, Barry was standing beside a table at the front, a stern look on his face, his arms folded. He snapped at Jessica to put her Christmas hat on, which she dutifully did, wincing at the stiffness in her triceps as she pulled it over her head. She took a seat near the front. Within a minute, twenty or so people had filed in around her. Mildred sat down beside her, leaned across and whispered, ‘What do you think old Trumpton wants to lecture us about now?’, just as Barry lifted a bell and gave it an angry little shake.
‘Order, please,’ he snapped, his arms stretched by his side as though he was about to pogo up and down with anger. When the room had fallen quiet, he took something from a chair behind the table and put it down with a hard thump on the tabletop.
Jessica frowned. A box of chocolate bars. Or rather, an empty box.
Narrowing his eyes, Barry said, ‘We have a thief among us.’
A collective gasp rose from the assembled group. A few people leaned across to speak to each other in hushed voices.
‘This is from the shop stores,’ Barry said. ‘And it’s not the only box that has been raided. Someone has been helping themselves to the stock without paying for it. I don’t need to tell you that this is completely unacceptable, do I?’
‘Did you check the security cameras?’ someone shouted from the back.
Barry’s face flushed, and he pulled the Christmas hat off his bowler hat to briefly wipe away the sweat beading on his forehead, before replacing the limp, soggy thing in its former position. ‘I’m afraid the ones we have in place didn’t show anything significant.’
‘There’s only the one,’ Mildred called. ‘And all it shows is the lobby. And it doesn’t even work.’
‘Perhaps it was Father Christmas,’ someone else shouted, to grunts of laughter. ‘Or his elves.’
‘I don’t appreciate you making light of this,’ Barry said. ‘I will not tolerate a thief. If anyone has any information, please come forward with it.’ He looked across the assembled group, but when no one seemed about to stand up or raise their hand, he gave a tired shrug. ‘That’s all. You may all return to your work stations.’
Throughout the meeting, Jessica had sat quietly. As everyone filed out, she took a couple of steps closer to the front table to get a better look at the empty box of chocolate bars. It was a festive edition of Twix, and looked rather yummy. As she followed the others out, closing the door behind her, she remembered where she had seen the wrapper before.
It was the very same one Kirsten had been eating.
24
Investigation
Kirsten couldn’t be the thief. It just wasn’t possible. However, her absence at the meeting meant Jessica couldn’t immediately gauge her reaction for signs of guilt. She could, however, poke around in their shared room to see if there was any other evidence.
Kirsten was still out on the slopes. Jessica didn’t feel right about going through her friend’s things, but the bin in their shared kitchen was enough. Poking through it, Jessica found five wrappers of the stolen chocolate bar.
With a little shake of her head, she set them on the kitchen counter to present to Kirsten as evidence later. She wanted to make sure, so she went upstairs to the shop and asked Aaron, the young guy behind the counter, if Kirsten came in a lot. With a wry smile, he shook his head. ‘Once, maybe twice? She’s always in the rental shop next door, though. Talking to Ben.’
Jessica thanked him and left. The evidence was mounting. Where would Kirsten have got the chocolate bars from if not the shop?
They had arrived at Snowflake Lodge as a pair, and if Kirsten really was the thief, it would fall on both of them. Jessica knew she had to confront Kirsten, but she had to keep it quiet.
She paused in the lobby to grab another hot chocolate, adding a couple of marshmallows from a tray for luck. A little sign beside the tray mentioned that these were marshmallows made from natural ingredients and by hand, produced by a small company in the Lake District. Jessica gave a surprised nod, having had no idea marshmallows could come from a plant.
Her to-do list was stacking up. First up was confronting Kirsten. Then she had to help Mr. Dawes, while putting her secret plan into action. And then there was the question of Doreen. Was she really planning to show up?
So much to do, and her body was screaming at her to rest. A lie down might help, but with a sudden revelation, Jessica realised how she could kill two birds with one proverbial stone.
The hot spring was open to guests in the mornings until nine a.m., then from lunchtime to nine p.m., with the time in between reserved for cleaning, or for staff. Nothing would soothe her aching arms like a steaming hot bath, and it also happened to be a phone reception hotspot.
She borrowed a towel from the rental shop, pulled on her jacket and headed out. It was a crisp morning under clear skies, with the ten centimetres of fresh snow that had fallen overnight shining like a pristine white sheet. As she headed for the hot spring, through the trees she caught glimpses of the ski slope, a handful of skiers and boarders carving back and forth. Again, she wondered how she would feel if all this belonged to her.
Unable to shake an odd feeling that she didn’t really want to put Theodora’s question to Grandpa, she headed up the path to the hot spring. As she had hoped, it was empty. She undressed and left her clothes on a bench, wrapped a small hand towel around her upper body before climbing into the water, setting her phone down beside her so it could pick up any incoming messages.
The water began to do its work, easing the ache in her muscles. She leaned back, her eyes closed, feeling the relief only a hot bath in the middle of a wilderness could possibly bring. No doubt Kirsten would say something awkwardly profound about Mother Nature, but Jessica was just happy to experience the peace and tranquility of—
Her phone buzzed.
She picked it up, careful not to drop it into the water. With a sigh of relief she realised it was just her dad.
Hello love, hope things are swell. They are here! Ocean swell that is. Had some right rollers off the bow this morning as we headed for Norway. Fantastic stuff to watch from the bar with a cocktail in hand. We’ll send you a postcard if we’re not wrecked. Only joking. Having a lovely time. Wish you were here with us. Have a great Christmas. Dad x.
Jessica rolled her eyes. The usual kind of stuff. Dad was just checking in to alleviate himself of any guilt at being an uncaring parent. Perhaps a postcard would one day show up, perhaps not. Jessica never expected one, but on a couple of occasions her parents had surprised her, usually when they’d got delayed at an airport and had run out of downloaded TV dramas to watch on the iPad.
‘Sounds fun,’ she said to herself, putting her phone back down, not bothering to reply. She closed her eyes, leaned back, and—
Her phone buzzed again.
This time, her nightmares came true.
Hey Lemons, sorry to keep you waiting up there. Make sure they have a room for us, won’t you? I forgot to book and I’m about out of charge. Me, Mick, and Phil are stuck at Edinburgh services. Blizzard came in. Lucky they have a hotel here, although I might put a small claim in with your lot for the cost. Nothing about adverse weather conditions on these coupons. That’s what I call a joke. As is this weather. I hope it’s not snowing where you are. Phil’s sneezing all over, might be allergic to snow. By the way, there was a small fire at yours the last night we were there. Mick’s certain he turned off the grill so you must have faulty wiring. I could get you blacklisted as a landlord for this, Lemons. You’d better make sure
we have a good time at this lodge place or I’ll be writing a letter to the council—
‘Shut up!’ Jessica shouted at the phone. ‘Just shut up and leave me alone!’
She lifted the phone and shaped to throw it, stopping just in time. Instead, she held it above the water and shook it back and forth, growling with anger.
‘And this is the only hot spring in Scotland that’s entirely natural yet cool enough to actually bathe in. It’s believed the hot water comes from a subterranean reservoir more than five miles below the surface.’
Jessica stared as James climbed into view, followed by a group of teenagers in school uniform. As they spread out into a line around the clearing’s edge, the first couple noticed her, and a trickle of awkward laughter passed through the group. Jessica stared at James, whose mouth had fallen open in surprise. So stunned at this sudden intrusion, Jessica barely heard the plop as her phone fell into the water.
‘So, what are you going to do? It’s something of a pickle, isn’t it?’ Kirsten leaned over her coffee like a housewife advising a neighbour on a replacement garden fence.
Jessica shook her head. ‘There’s nothing I can do. My phone’s sitting in a bag of dry rice at the moment, but I’m not too hopeful it’ll ever work again. I asked Barry about the nearest phone shop, but he said I’d have to go over to Inverness. There’s one in a village a few miles over but he said it only opens in the summer. And with heavy snow forecast from tomorrow, he doesn’t think I’d be able to get back. They’re already getting cancellations because the roads aren’t cleared.’
‘Oh, that’s too bad.’
‘Yes … and no.’
‘Really?’
‘I told you about my nightmare lodger, didn’t I?’
‘Doreen?’
‘Well, she claims that she’s on her way up here. Apparently her and her two crazy friends are stuck at Edinburgh services.’