The Northern Lights Lodge

by Julie Caplin

Kristjan laughed. ‘Another few hours and I think you would have been fine.’ He winked at her. ‘Although we might have run out of bilberries if you kept on burning them.’

  ‘Don’t remind me. But thank you for cutting your day off short. We couldn’t have done it without you.’

  ‘So, I am promoted?’ asked Kristjan, his face suddenly deadpan.

  Suddenly everyone was looking at Lucy.

  She opened her mouth and stopped, not liking the feeling of being backed in a corner but what choice did she have? Erik was going to be off for at least six weeks. They needed a chef.

  ‘Well … we got away with it tonight but I need to…’ He was so young and she’d already realised he was keen to experiment and had lots of ideas. What experience had he had?

  ‘It was really good out there, wasn’t it, Alex?’ chipped in Hekla, with an uncharacteristically shy glance at Kristjan.

  ‘It was. The food went down really well. There were lots of complimentary comments.’ Alex nodded with enthusiasm.

  A knot wound tighter in her stomach. One night’s service didn’t mean he could run a kitchen and manage a whole week’s menus. There was a lot more to being a chef in charge than the cooking and she didn’t have the time to oversee him. She sighed, she’d have to make the time.

  ‘In the interim, yes,’ she said reluctantly, ‘but we’ll keep the menus the same for the time being.’

  Kristjan’s mouth twisted with the briefest flash of disappointment at her lacklustre response.

  ‘I’m good.’ He planted his feet in a stubborn gesture.

  He was brilliant and it wasn’t his fault that she found trusting people hard these days. Maybe it was time she took a risk.

  ‘OK Kristjan,’ she smiled, ‘Let’s get together tomorrow morning and you can talk me through what you’d like to do.’

  Chapter 15

  ‘Are you OK? You seem to be a little …’ asked Alex walking into the office where he found Hekla studying her coffee with a brooding stare.

  ‘I’m cross,’ said the girl with a rueful smile. ‘It takes me a lot to get cross and then…’ she laughed, ‘I go boom!’

  ‘Really?’ Alex raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

  ‘Ja. You can ask my parents. Why do think I’m called Hekla?’

  He shook his head.

  She laughed again. ‘I’m named after a volcano. Hekla, it’s not far from here. It erupts every ten years. When I was a baby I was very good for the first few weeks, then I had a big crying, angry time, and then I was good again for another few weeks, so they named me after the volcano.’

  ‘What they waited two months to name you?’

  ‘Ja, that is very common in Iceland. Parents wait until they get to know their children before they name them.’

  Alex nodded, ‘That makes a lot of sense, I guess.’ His mother had his name picked out as soon as he was conceived and he’d have been Alexandra if he’d been a girl. There’d been Alexander McLaughlin’s in his family for the last two hundred years and they’d owned the family hotel, McLaughlin’s, which his mother currently ran, for over fifty.

  ‘Give it up, what’s made you so cross?’ Alex asked as he perched on the edge of Hekla’s desk. She was the sort of employee you listened carefully to, the sort of person who whether they knew it or not, intuitively had their finger on the pulse. Hekla was the backbone of the lodge.

  ‘Lucy.’

  ‘Lucy? I thought you two got on well.’ He was genuinely surprised. Of all the people at the lodge, Lucy had managed to upset Hekla? That didn’t stack up.

  ‘How’s she upset you?’

  Hekla’s open face suddenly closed down and her mouth flattened in a mutinous line. ‘She never trusts me. She checks everything. It’s so control freaky,’ she pinched her lips, ‘I was dealing with that American Wainwright man and she took over. Stepped right in front of me. Made me look like I am no good in front of the camera.’

  Alex patted her on the arm. ‘Have you considered that she was trying to help, that she thought she was the one that should take the flak not you? It is a manager’s job to protect their staff, to support them with any unpleasantness. Maybe Lucy was doing her job.’

  Hekla gave him a considering look. ‘You see too much, like you’re the manager.’

  Alex stilled.

  ‘You would make a very bad spy.’ The girl smiled, tossing her plaits over her shoulder. ‘I’ve seen you in places you shouldn’t. Looking at things.’

  ‘Incurable nosiness, I like to know how everything works.’

  Hekla looked as if she didn’t believe a word of what he’d said. Just as he’d known he would be, he was rubbish at this subterfuge stuff and inwardly cursed Quentin, who had suddenly disappeared off the planet now Alex wanted to update him on Lucy’s progress and the gradual turnaround of the hotel.

  ‘Smoked lamb?’

  Kristjan nodded, his baby face very serious and sombre, and pushed a plate towards Lucy along with a tiny steaming jug which smelled heavenly. She’d certainly give him marks for presentation and enterprise. She’d been worried he might get experimental, especially when he’d told her that the original Icelandic staple diet included rotted fish and boiled sheep’s heads. Imagine what the guests would think of that?

  Two rounds of tender pink lamb sat on one side of the plate, with a comma shape smear of potato mash, a tiny Jenga stack of carrots and parsnip julienne and a smattering of carefully placed what could have been kale or seaweed. It really did look very impressive and very Masterchef. In fact, sitting there with Kristjan’s hungry eyes watching her every move, she felt like one of the food critic judges they wheeled in every now and then, especially as she was sitting at the one table in the dining room which had been beautifully laid out with smart cutlery and long-stemmed crystal glasses, which she’d never seen before.

  She poured the tiny pot of jus over the lamb and feeling a little self-conscious under Kristjan’s intense gaze, cut herself a tiny bite of the meat and scooped up some of the vegetables.

  The sharp, sweet richness of the jus caught her first, followed by the subtle smokiness of the tender, fragrant flavoured lamb and the delicate, unadulterated taste of the vegetables. Simple and elegant, was her first thought and she nearly spluttered out loud in sudden awareness of her John Torode description.

  Kristjan’s face contorted in anxiety.

  ‘No, no, it’s fabulous. Sorry I was…’ it would take far too long to explain. She took another mouthful and sighed, closing her eyes to show him how blissful his food was.

  It really was… ‘Absolutely bloody amazing.’ Her eyes started open. Surprisingly good. Brilliant

  ‘I can put this on the menu?’ asked Kristjan.

  Lucy fired a slew of questions at him. She was impressed but her natural caution made her want to check he was up to the task.

  ‘Lucy,’ he pointed to his face, ‘I look young but I know my job.’

  She could see a hint of frustration on his face.

  ‘Yes, you can put it on the menu,’ she said quickly before she could change her mind.

  Kristjan jumped up and grabbed her hand, pumping it up and down, beaming from ear to ear, uttering bold promises. ‘I’m going to put The Northern Lights Lodge on the map. This is going to be the restaurant to come to. I will make you proud. Now you must try my cinnamon rolls.’

  One bite had her groaning with pleasure. ‘These are yum.’ She sat up. ‘I know, this would be perfect. Afternoon tea and morning coffee.’ Her mind was off and running.

  ‘We could put a board at the end of the road. I was thinking about ways to draw in non-residents to the restaurant. We could offer really nice tea, speciality stuff, served in lovely thin china cups, with some cakes and biscuits. In the morning we could do flavoured coffees with pastries. And hot chocolate,’ she broke off to grin at Kristjan who was nodding with excitement. ‘I love hot chocolate.’

  ‘Me too, with lots of marshmallows and cream.’

  ‘Oh, yes and served
in big earthenware mugs that you need two hands to hold.’ Lucy held her hands up in demonstration and laughed. ‘And I have no idea where any of that came from, but I think we should do it. What do you think?’

  ‘My aunt makes,’ he held up his hands mimicking her, ‘pottery.’

  ‘Excellent, can you get some samples?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I’m also thinking … we could hold a themed meal, an Icelandic banquet. A sort of promotional evening.’ She tipped her head to one side. ‘I think you must have put something in that jus.’ Her brain really was on fire this morning. ‘There aren’t many restaurants around here, it would be good for people to recommend us. I thought we could invite local VIPs.’

  Kristjan immediately began making suggestions and within five minutes, they’d come up with a complete menu plan.

  ‘Where did you learn to cook like this?’ asked Lucy as she finished the last mouthful of her cinnamon roll.

  ‘My dad has worked in London before he came to Iceland. He worked at the Hotel Rangi near here. They are known for good food. I worked there for a few summers but I always cooked with my mother.’

  ‘Are you from round here?’

  Kristjan laughed. ‘My family lived on the other side of the hill. In the summer I would come and help Olafur, he’s my cousin, on the farm before it was sold to Tomas.’

  ‘Tomas?’

  ‘Tomas Pederson. You know him.’

  She lifted her shoulders, knowing him was pushing it a bit. ‘I’ve never met him but I spoke to his PA via Skype. So what sort of farm was this before it became a hotel.’

  Kristjan laughed. ‘What do you think?’ He pointed out of the window to the white dots on the hillside beyond.

  ‘Sheep.’

  ‘Very good. We’ll make an Icelander of you yet. Lucy … what is your father’s name?’

  ‘My father’s name?’

  He nodded, a smile playing around his lips.

  ‘Bryn’

  ‘We’ll make an Icelander of you, Lucy Brynsdóttir.’

  Lucy was surprised at the sudden heat in her cheeks and the need to blink quickly. She found she couldn’t speak for a minute. When at last she found her voice, she felt rather touched. ‘That’s … that’s … I like Brynsdóttir.’ It made her feel like she was someone, part of something that was bigger than she was. Even though her father was hundreds of miles away, she felt connected. Grounded in some way. Straightening up, she realised that Lucy Brynsdóttir was someone, someone who had some pride, who could start afresh. With a firming of her jaw, she lifted her chin. Someone who had to find a way of standing up to that weasel Bob. She wasn’t going to let someone like that ruin her chance of starting over.

  Chapter 16

  Alex cornered Lucy in the dining room when she was leaving the kitchen, looking a little guilty, her fingers hidden under a cloth over the top of the small plate she carried.

  ‘Sampling the wares are you?

  ‘No, just checking in with Kristjan,’ she said airily.

  He gave her a teasing grin and leaned forward to swipe away the white icing sugar dusting her upper lip. As soon as his finger brushed her skin – he had to stop doing that – her startled eyes met his and a dart of lust tripped his pulse. And now she was staring back at him with wary silence as if she might spring back into the safety of the forest like a shy deer.

  ‘You … you had some…’ he nodded, looking at her lips. Big mistake. A small pink tongue darted out to lick them and for a crazy minute he wanted to kiss her again.

  ‘Cinnamon bun,’ she said, her voice hoarse.

  He swallowed. Hard. Her husky tones set off a shiver of awareness that twisted his gut.

  ‘Kristjan’s been experimenting. He wanted me to try one.’ She held up the plate and lifted the cloth to reveal a glistening sugary Danish pastry. ‘I’m taking one to Hekla.’ She frowned. ‘A peace offering. She seems upset about something but … she’s avoiding me. I’m not sure what I’ve done.’

  Alex swallowed, again, very relieved to grasp at another subject.

  ‘I might be able to help there.’

  Sharp, resigned eyes shot to his before she sighed and her mouth firmed. ‘I should have known she’d talk to you.’

  He stiffened at her tone. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘For a barman, you seemed to know an awful lot about what goes on.’

  ‘Don’t we always?’ he lifted his shoulders.

  ‘In the movies yes, not so much in real life. That’s usually the concierge.’

  ‘Ah well then,’ he laughed, spreading his hands wide.

  ‘Yeah, I forgot you occasionally double up as luggage boy.’

  ‘I think its bell boy … luggage boy sounds like a really duff superhero.’

  Unexpected laughter pealed out and Lucy’s eyes danced with humour, her mouth curving into a slow smile. ‘You could have a very cute uniform, with a cape.’

  ‘There’s no way I’m wearing tights. And definitely not shiny lycra leggings.’ He shuddered.

  She gave his legs a considering look and then, as if burnt, jerked her eyes back up, a slight tinge of blush lining her cheekbones.

  ‘So,’ she said decisively. ‘Hekla. You know what’s wrong with her?’

  Alex nodded. ‘You want to hear it?’

  ‘Of course, I do. Oh,’ she paused. ‘I have done something wrong. I was kind of hoping that it was something else as I’ve racked my brains.’ She took in a deep breath and pushed out her chest. ‘Go on then, tell me.’

  ‘She thinks you think she’s no good at her job.’

  Lucy let out an unamused laugh. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s brilliant, although at which job you mean I don’t know. It seems like she’s been keeping this place going. She does reception, she works in the office, she waits tables, she … well, she even fixed a faulty toilet the other day. I think she’s amazing. I’m not sure what I’d have done without her.’ Her teeth began to worry at the familiar spot on her lip.

  ‘Don’t.’

  She patted her mouth. ‘Sorry.’ She took in another long breath. ‘I really don’t understand.’

  ‘Hekla feels you don’t trust her.’

  ‘Of course, I trust her. There’s lots of money in the safe in the office. Plenty of stock around the building. I trust her.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s that sort of thing she’s upset about. It’s you, trusting her to do her job properly.’

  He saw Lucy stiffen.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean … or what it’s got to do with you.’ He almost laughed at the way she stuck her chin out, suddenly belligerent, except that it drew attention to the slight pout of her plump bottom lip.

  ‘You remember when the American complained.’

  ‘Yes.’ Her brow furrowed in concentration.

  ‘Hekla was handling it and you…’

  ‘Shit,’ Lucy slapped her forehead with the heal of her hand. ‘I do remember. I waltzed right in between her and John Wainwright the Third. Took over.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I do that a lot.’ She held up a horrified hand to her mouth. ‘It didn’t mean I didn’t trust her … it was a problem and I wanted it sorted. I should have left her to deal with it.’

  He could almost see her mentally flicking through recent events, as she winced and screwed up her face periodically.

  ‘Oh shit. And I’m doing the same with Kristjan, except he’s not experienced enough yet to get pissed off with me.’ She pulled another disgruntled face.

  ‘You really do beat yourself up, don’t you?’

  She turned big, serious eyes his way. ‘Unlike you, I need to make this job work. You can move on anytime you like. I have to convince the new owners to let me stay on. I need to be here for at least a year.’

  Alex’s mouth dried. Shit. It was slightly worrying that Quentin hadn’t responded to any of his recent emails, not since he’d reported back more favourably on the progress at the hotel. What if Quenti
n decided to bring in a whole new team? It was what he normally did.

  Hekla rose as soon as she walked in the room but Lucy put a hand on her shoulder and pressed her back into her seat, placing the cinnamon bun in front of her. ‘Coffee?’

  Bemused, Hekla looked at her warily, nodding.

  Moving to the coffee machine in the office which was permanently on, Lucy poured two quick cups, black for herself and strong and milky for Hekla.

  ‘I owe you an apology,’ said Lucy perching on the edge of her desk facing Hekla.

  The other girl took a quick sip of her drink looking everywhere but at Lucy. With a sense of shame, it dawned on her that she’d really hurt the other girl’s feelings.

  She reached forward and touched Hekla’s arm, suddenly aware that it was the first time she’d voluntarily touched her. The realisation made her feel shoddy and inadequate. Hekla was always touching her, hugs, pats, reassuring nudges, including Lucy in her unconditional warmth from day one. She’d been nothing but generous, kind and supportive.

  She deserved a proper explanation, or as much of one as Lucy could share.

  ‘Hekla, I really am sorry.’ She gave a half-laugh. ‘I’m going to use the old it’s not you, it’s me line.’

  Hekla lifted her head, already her blue eyes filling with compassion.

  Lucy leaned forward and gave her a hug. ‘You have helped me so much. I was in… Before I came here I was…’

  With a shake of her head, the other girl started to say something.

  ‘No, it’s OK,’ said Lucy. ‘I want to tell you.

  ‘Before I came here I had a big job, the assistant manager of a five star, five hundred room hotel in the centre of a big city in England.’

  Hekla’s eyes widened.

  ‘Yup. Posh suits, lots of staff, a big office. The whole shebang. I was sacked.’

  ‘You. Sacked?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Lucy lifted her shoulders to her ears, wincing. ‘I did something stupid.’ She shook her head. Hekla’s lovely innocent face looking at her made her pause and she couldn’t risk the disappointment she’d see there if she told her the truth. ‘I made a mistake.’ She rushed the words so that Hekla couldn’t interrupt her. ‘I was sacked. I came here because I can’t get another job anywhere else … and I need to make this work. After what’s happened to me, I’m short on trust and long on fear. I’m frightened of making a mess and not being kept on after my two-month trial. When I came, I had no idea that the hotel was up for sale. So now I’m even more frightened. They might not take me on. And then where does that leave me? I’m trying to make sure everything is perfect, so that they have to keep me on.’