by Julie Caplin
After the bliss of the shower, and a brisk rub with a towel that was perfectly fluffy and soft, Lucy felt a hell of a lot better, although it was still depressing to see another few handfuls of hair circling the plug hole of the shower.
Carefully she dried it, fearful of losing anymore, and deliberately avoided looking at herself in the mirror, knowing only too well she’d see Morticia’s second cousin staring back at her. Over the last few months, gaunt shadows had set in, shading her cheekbones, and dark circles had taken up residence, underscoring her eyes with purple black bruises making her looking part panda and part ghoul. Along with the hollowing of her features, a constant queasiness had settled in her stomach.
Her scooped out face seemed to reflect the complete shambles her life had become. Wincing she put down the hairdryer and looked beyond her reflection through the doorway of the bathroom to the wonderful temptation of the double bed in the other room with its thick white cotton duvet and soft blue throw.
Before she gave into tiredness, she quickly explored the living space, her home for the next two months. Despite feeling trampled on, her spirits couldn’t help but lift. The wooden-framed double bed faced a large open fireplace smack bang in the middle of a run of picture windows, which was an unusual but striking design feature that she’d never seen before. Maybe it was an Icelandic thing. The imposing hearth was built of rustic stone, with an internal chimney breast that rose the full height of the room to the triangular peak of the sloping wooden ceiling. It gave the space a lofty open feeling, but the honey-coloured wood on the walls and ceilings along with the soft rugs and the colourful woven fabric wall hangings saved the room from feeling cold.
Over to the right was a small lounge area with a neat two-man sofa, draped in the softest cashmere perfect-for-snuggling-in-on-a-cold-day throw, two arm chairs facing the fire and beyond that a compact kitchen area with a breakfast bar and two stools.
With a tired smile she promised herself that on her first day off she’d be wrapping herself up in the throw, building a fire (something she’d need to learn how to do) and watch the flames.
She climbed into the cool sheets, immediately snuggling into the soft embrace of a thick mattress topper. As her head settled into the clutch of feather pillows, the duvet nestling around her, she let out a tiny sigh. Stop thinking brain, she told herself. As usual it refused to play ball and instead delighted in torturing her with an image of herself clambering out of the hot tub like a bedraggled drowned rat. What a first impression. She sighed again and curled on her side, succumbing to the delicious softness of the bed, feeling herself start to drift. What must Hekla and Alex have thought of their new boss? At worst they’d think she was a clumsy, flaky, klutz. They had no idea what she’d done … at the moment. Under the covers, she crossed her fingers. Hopefully they never would. She swallowed back the stupid threatening tears that had suddenly sprung from nowhere. Would Alex’s kind eyes hold the same expression if he ever saw that bloody video? Would Hekla’s quick, easy smiles turn to sneers of disgust if she looked up Lucy Smart on the internet? Lucy scrunched her eyes closed and burrowed deeper into the mattress, drifting off to sleep as she succumbed to the soft cocoon of the bed.
Something had woken Lucy and she lay confused as the weight of silence pressed in on her. It took her a slow processing couple of seconds to remember where she was. Iceland. In the middle of nowhere. With a frown, she pushed away the pale green duvet, the warmth now suffocating. Wait, the duvet was green? Blearily she looked around the room which was suffused with a soft unearthly light. It took another moment to register and she raised herself onto her elbows, sleepily squinting out of the windows. It had been so dark when she’d gone to bed, she hadn’t bothered with the blinds.
Wow! Wide awake, she pushed herself up, cool air hitting her shoulders.
A silent symphony of pulsating green light lit up the dark sky, swirling in ethereal waves. Pushing back the covers, she grabbed the throw from the sofa wrapping it around her shoulders as she padded to the window. Mesmerised she placed a hand on the ice-cold window as if she might trace the path of the dancing lights. Her heart expanded in her chest, her eyes wide with wonder.
The eerie magical light revealed a shadowed landscape, the sea meeting the land in a seductive curve and bathing the rocky crags on the hillside in cool colours. Clutching the throw tighter she sank to the floor, enchanted by the serene, soundless spectacle unfolding before her with the grace of a gentle ballet.
Like silk flowing in the wind, the lights danced to a soundless tune, slow and slumberous. Goosebumps prickled her skin as she traced their progress. The sight filled her with a sense of awe and unexpected contentment. All the worries and fears of the last few months faded into insignificance, puny and irrelevant in the face of one of nature’s constants. She wondered for how many thousands of years had the aurora borealis been appearing and what ancient races had made of them. Magic? The presence of a god? Did they see them as a sign? Lifting her head she stared up, suddenly feeling stronger almost as if she were absorbing the cosmic energy. There was a whole universe out there and she was nothing but a tiny speck in the scheme of things. At this exact moment in time, she was nothing and everything, a part of the natural cycle. She clenched her fist in a silent promise. Forward. Look forward. Instead of seeing being in Iceland as a penance she would make the most of it. A second chance. She wouldn’t be shaped by her mistakes. Fanciful as it was, this was a sign, she was sure of it. She would take this chance and use all her skills and experience to make sure that the people that came to The Northern Lights Lodge had a memorable stay.
Chapter 4
The next morning, having dressed with care, determined to make a better impression, Lucy followed her nose finding her way to the empty reception area. She could hear voices raised in argument, the harsh consonants of the unfamiliar language interspersed with some English. They came from the office beyond the reception desk. When Lucy entered the room, she could almost feel the tension thickening the air.
Hekla was standing behind one of two desks, the pen in her hand rattling on the surface of the desk as she faced two other women who wore uniforms. This morning there was no sign of the sunny smiles of the previous evening, instead Hekla’s face was scrunched in mutinous resignation as she argued, although it appeared her heart wasn’t really in it, with a trim girl of perfect proportions and the sort of make-up that made you wonder how on earth she’d perfected those uniform neat eyeliner flicks on both eyes. She looked as if she were about to go on an upmarket shopping trip rather than the task of cleaning bedrooms as her uniform suggested. She tossed her neat glossy brown bob and cast a quick look towards Lucy, her mouth closing sharply as if swallowing her next sentence. Hekla snapped her mouth shut and the awkward silence stretched out as all three of them, curiously, couldn’t seem to meet each other’s eyes.
‘Good morning, can I help?’ asked Lucy in polite but firm enquiry, stepping forward and standing still, determined to mark her authority from the get-go. It was only then that she realised that the head barman who’d fished her out of the hot tub last night was also there, leaning up against the wall, his arms folded and an expression of impatience on his face.
The taller blonde girl opposite Hekla raised her head and her long fluid arms dropped to her side. She looked uncertain and worried at the same time.
Hekla pursed her lips and cast an agonised look towards the two girls before she said, ‘We have a slight problem with huldufólk.’
‘Sorry?’ Lucy thought she remembered hearing the word last night but wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly as she tried to copy Hekla’s rather cute accent, ‘huldufólk?’
What the hell were they?
The two girls nodded vehemently.
Hekla sighed. ‘They’ve left mices. Freya,’ she indicated the dark-haired young woman, ‘and Elin,’ she nodded towards the second blonde woman, ‘and the other staff who live in the staff quarters want to leave but then we will have no one to cle
an the rooms or to serve the breakfast this morning.’
Lucy gave a quick glance at her watch. It was eight o’clock, although it was still dark outside, surely breakfast service must be underway?
‘Mices?’ She was starting to feel completely stupid, echoing everything the other girl said.
‘Yes, you know little furry mices.’
‘Mice,’ said Lucy, finally cottoning on. ‘You have mice.’ She glanced down at her feet and around the skirtings of the room. This she could handle. ‘OK,’ she gave the two women a smile, ‘we can get some mousetraps. I’m sure that will solve the problem. No one needs to leave.’ Now she understood the underlying panic on Hekla’s face. Getting staff here on short notice would be difficult if not impossible. Yesterday’s taxi ride had established they were in a remote location. The nearest town had been a good twenty minutes away. ‘Humane traps.’ Then she added for good measure. ‘Or perhaps we can borrow a cat?’ She’d always prided herself on finding solutions to problems. Even Chris had complimented her on her ability to think outside the box.
Alex, the barman, snorted and she shot him a quick snotty look of enquiry. He had a better way of getting rid of mice?
Hekla shifted from rubbing one foot down the back of her calf. ‘Nrr.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not the mices, it’s the huldufólk.’
Alex stepped forward, a look of exasperation on his face, his mouth tight. ‘Hidden folk. Like Elves.’
‘Elves?’ Lucy repeated calmly. Alex nodded and she caught him rolling his eyes. Unsure she hadn’t misunderstood, she raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You have elves?’ His mouth crimped tighter in response.
‘Ja, huldufólk,’ said Freya, ‘in our bedroom.’
Lucy frowned. ‘You’ve seen them?’
Freya shuddered and looked horrified. ‘No! It is very bad luck to see the huldufólk.’
‘Riiight.’ Lucy glanced at Alex who folded his arms, giving her stern stare. ‘So there are mice in the bedroom?’
Hekla did her stork impersonation again, the picture of awkwardness.
‘Yes, on the pillows,’ insisted Freya. ‘Left by the huldufólk.’ She bent to pick up the rucksack at her feet and hefted it onto her shoulders, with Elin following suit.
‘Wait,’ she said, trying to piece things together but it was rather like having all the straight bits of a jigsaw and none of the corner bits. ‘You’re leaving?’
The two girls nodded apologetically. ‘It’s … well there is a bus going back to Reykjavik soon.’
‘Wait a minute.’ She looked at Hekla who didn’t meet her eye.
‘Most of the staff live in,’ explained Alex in that lovely soft Scottish accent which made her think of David Tennant, as he rather unhelpfully pointed out, ‘we’re going to be short-staffed if they leave.’
Thanks Einstein, I hadn’t worked that one out for myself.
‘Ja, that’s correct.’ Hekla nodded, her blonde hair glinting under the soft light of the room.
Elves? Hidden folk? Seriously? Were they were pulling the newbie’s leg? Alex’s eyes held hers still with that expectant so what are you going to do about it. Until she got her head around this, she needed to tread carefully.
‘And these huld …hulder.’
‘Huldufólk,’ interjected Helka helpfully.
‘They like to play tricks?’
‘Sometimes,’ said Elin, ‘they move things. Make disruptions.’
Lucy nodded thoughtfully as she racked her brains. During her hospitality degree, there’d been a module on observing local customs. In South Korea, you shouldn’t pour your own drink and there were several countries where blowing your nose in public was offensive, but she’d never come across an elf problem.
To her mind, dead mice on people’s pillows sounded like someone playing a bit of practical joke, although not a particularly funny one. And this was her first day.
‘So, what do we do about them?’ asked Lucy.
Alex shot her an incredulous look as if to say, ‘you’re listening to this rubbish?’
And, what, did he have all the answers?
Hekla’s eyes widened. ‘There’s nothing we can do.’
‘OK,’ said Lucy, wondering just where she’d come to, ‘I’m not familiar with the hulder … elf people but I’m sure there must be a way around this.’
If Alex rolled his eyes any harder they might pop out of his head.
Elin and Freya gave apologetic shrugs, shuffling on the spot. Lucy noticed that they hadn’t actually made any move toward the door. In fact, she got the distinct impression that they were stalling, almost as if they were as keen as she was to find a solution.
‘Wait,’ she held up a hand, grateful that it was steady. She couldn’t believe this was happening on her first flipping day. ‘What if…’ Come on brain. Think. ‘What if we…’ Elin, Freya and Hekla looked at her hopefully. ‘What if we…’ she stalled again and then inspiration made her words rush out in a flood, ‘move the staff into guest rooms for the time being?’
Alex didn’t look impressed. What was his problem?
‘All of them?’ Hekla creased her forehead in quick mental calculation and started ticking names off on her fingers. ‘Olafur, Brynja, Gunnar, Olga, Freya, Elin, Dagur … Magnus, Odin, Alex.’ She pulled a mournful face. ‘We have lots of guests arriving in the next few days.’
Lucy lifted her chin ignoring the balloon deflating sensation in her stomach. There had to be a solution. There had to be. It was quite odd, Freya and Elin seemed to want to stay, so it wasn’t as if they were using the elf situation as an excuse to do a runner. Absently she rubbed at her neck, her fingers snagging on the chain of her necklace as she racked her brains. Dropping her hand, she tugged at the little charm Daisy had bought her to wish her luck, her fingers finding the tiny horn of the silver unicorn hidden under her shirt. She worried at the little point like a talisman.
‘We need a unicorn,’ she said, engendering her voice with absolute authority, pleased to see Alex’s mouth drop open, although whether it was admiration or astonishment she wasn’t sure. ‘In my country elves and fairies have enormous respect for the unicorn. They wouldn’t dare trespass on a unicorn’s territory. Even the symbol of a unicorn is enough to make fairies and elves think twice about entering a place.’
Hekla nodded, clearly having no idea what she was talking about. Did unicorns even feature in Icelandic folklore? Alex’s lips were pressed together, his hands now rammed in his pockets and he was taking great interest in the floor. However, she held both Freya and Elin’s attention.
Lucy pulled out her necklace, undoing it and holding it up.
‘Ah Einhyrningur,’ said Hekla reaching a finger out to touch the necklace. ‘There’s a mountain called Einhyrningur about forty kilometres away from here. Unicorns.’ She nodded, looking ridiculously relieved. ‘That is interesting.’
‘Yes, apparently their magic is stronger,’ said Lucy, straightening up, ‘they’re known to…’ To what? She knew bugger all about them because … they didn’t exist. But then neither did elves.
With a heavy sigh, Alex pushed himself away from the wall, gave Lucy a resigned, I can’t believe I’m doing this, look and said, ‘The huldufólk avoid them because it’s reputed that they can steal their magic.’ The seamless interjection was so smooth she almost believed it herself.
‘Yes!’ Hekla looked excited and clapped her hands together. ‘If we take the unicorn into the staff quarters it will make the huldufólk leave.’
‘And,’ said Lucy, ‘it’s made of silver. You know in folklore that werewolves and vampires can’t touch silver, is it the same with the huldufólk?’
‘Of course,’ said Elin thoughtfully and Lucy wondered how much Elin really believed in such things as hidden folk. Perhaps believing in a silver unicorn was a useful face-saving exercise.
‘Wonderful,’ said Hekla, with a broad smile, her blue eyes shining now that all was well with the world. Lucy wanted to hug her. Perhaps she should warn H
ekla about trusting too easily. It could cost you. Instead she said, ‘Hekla, why don’t you, Elin and Freya,’ she was pleased she’d remembered their names, ‘take the unicorn back to the staff quarters and find a good place to hang it up? And then perhaps you can come back and show me around the hotel and introduce me to the rest of the staff?’
As soon as they’d gone, she turned to Alex, raising an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak first.
‘Nice save,’ he said, ‘although you shouldn’t have stood for any nonsense. You’re storing up trouble.’
Straightening she smoothed down the skirt of her black suit, the closest thing she had to armour. She’d just arrived, she’d been running on empty for months and he wanted her to come up with all the answers on day one. And wait, hello, he was the flipping barman!
‘And what would you have done?’ she asked coolly. ‘You’d have been happy to pitch in making beds and cleaning bathrooms, would you?’
‘You should have knocked the whole elf thing on its head. It’s going to be used every time some kind of leverage is needed.’
‘Maybe I was being sensitive to local cultural beliefs.’
Alex snorted. ‘They were trying it on. Your first day.’
‘You don’t know that for sure,’ she said defensively.
‘Er, hello. Elves? Seriously?’ The stern expression on his face relaxed and she saw amusement dancing in his brown eyes.
‘Well they seemed quite serious about the dead mice,’ retorted Lucy.
‘Mmm,’ admitted Alex. ‘Sounds like you might have a practical joker with a rather warped sense of humour on the staff.’