by Julie Caplin
His bushy eyebrows drew together and he winced, screwing up his eyes in regret.
‘I … I…’
She gave him an encouraging nod.
‘The farm…’ he spread out a hand. ‘It belonged to the family.’ He covered his face with his hands. ‘I’m … I didn’t … I wanted…’ He lifted his shoulders as the words deserted him.
Lucy realised he was crying.
‘It was wrong. I know … I’m so … this was our home. Until I was fourteen. Pedersen bought it, for nothing. My Dad, he drank, kept losing his job, then he lost the farm. We had nothing and Pedersen knew.’ Olafur sniffed and shook his head. ‘Now he’s going to make a big profit. On the back of my family. After he sold … the money, it soon went. We had to go live with my aunt in Reykjavik, mum’s sister. They split up.’ His moustached quivered. ‘I wanted to make it too hard for Pedersen to sell. I didn’t want him to profit. Not to make so much money.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said tilting her head to one side, feeling desperately sad for him. She knew what it was like to hit rock bottom but it was hard to forgive him when he hadn’t thought about how it would impact on other people. ‘That sucks. But what about Hekla, Brynja, Gunnar? What if the hotel had to close? If no one came to stay here anymore? What would happen if they lost their jobs?’
The stricken look on his face suggested that he hadn’t thought that far ahead.
‘Do you think the electricity will be turned back on this evening?’ Her pointed question had him nodding furiously. ‘And we’ll have the end of all further mishaps from now on?’
Another nod.
‘Then I think we’ll say no more about it. We all make mistakes.’ Lord knew she had. ‘I believe everyone deserves a second chance,’ saying that made her pause for thought and Alex’s stricken face came to mind, ‘but if you do anything like this again, you will be out on your ear. No warning.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Can you get the electricity back on? Or will you need Henrik’s help?’
‘I can do it,’ mumbled Olafur from underneath his beard. ‘Thank you.’ He shambled to the doorway like a big shaggy defeated bear and then paused in the doorway. ‘I … I’m sorry. Thank you for not…’
Lucy pursed her mouth and gave him a curt nod praying she wasn’t going to live to regret this. ‘Officially I won’t be in charge in another couple of days. I won’t say anything. You got lucky, this time. Not everyone would be as forgiving. Now go get that electricity back on.’
When he’d gone she sank into the chair at her desk, putting her head and arms on the flat surface. She closed her eyes feeling all her energy suddenly desert her leaving her as limp as a deflated balloon. Back to square one again. Sitting up slowly she stared out of the window, it was dark outside but the landscape was lit up by the brightness of the snow. Out of habit she went to worry at her lip. It had healed. She straightened. And she’d healed too. Forget walking away with her tail between her legs. Gretchen might have the job but she was the one that turned The Northern Lights Lodge into a cosy haven, offering it guests a warm and homely welcome. If Quentin Oliver’s reputation was anything to go by, Lucy was passing the Lodge into good hands, not that she was about to forgive the other woman’s tactless announcement in any kind of a hurry.
This was the sort of hotel she wanted to run from now on, not some big branded multi-bedroomed place with no personality or warmth and she was going to make sure that she got a reference out of Mr Pedersen or Quentin Oliver if it was the last thing she ever did. With a sad smile on her face, she looked out at the snowy landscape. She’d come away with plenty of good memories of Iceland and the sad ones … well, time would tell.
Lucy let out a delighted gasp as she walked into the dining room, taking in the sight of dozens of tealights flickering creating a golden aura like a halo embracing the room. Above her, strung along the wooden beams, lots of tiny, golden fairy lights glowed creating a charming, welcoming atmosphere. She crossed to the centre of the room where the big rustic table had been moved to take pride of place. Charmed, she did a quick three sixty to take in the cosier arrangement of the dining tables which had been moved to circle the main table.
Wow, they all looked fabulous. Brynja had worked her magic, spending ages to create whimsical centrepieces of pebbles and driftwood to make it look as if a little piece of the beach had been brought to each table. On the larger pebbles, words of welcome in several different languages were handwritten in some sort of white pen, and they were interspersed between the cutlery and glassware. Finishing off each place setting, Brynja had placed napkins bound with a strand of straw-coloured raffia double wrapped around the white linen with little sprigs of heather and bilberry tucked into the raffia.
‘Oh my, it’s gorgeous,’ she said, as Brynja walked in. ‘And wow look at you.’ Around her shoulders was a dark green cloak fastened at the neck with a silver brooch, which looked rather familiar.
‘Elin’s done a good job, don’t you think?’
‘She has,’ said Lucy with a grin. ‘I love this.’ She pointed to the brooch.
‘It’s borrowed. Elin said it would be good advertising for the jeweller. The one who is going to sell jewellery in reception.’
‘Good idea.’ Lucy glanced down at her ring which still gave her huge pleasure every time she looked at it. ‘And you’ve done a wonderful job on the table decorations. I’m so impressed.’
Brynja beamed at her as Kristjan, in his chef’s whites, came through the kitchen door.
‘We’re all set. Come taste the langoustine risotto.’
Lucy followed him into the kitchen and tasted the risotto, the lamb and potato salad under Kristjan’s watchful gaze, aware that he was holding his breath. This was his big moment too. The flavours danced over her tongue. He’d done an amazing job.
‘They’re all divine,’ she said putting down her spoon. ‘You’ve excelled yourself.’
He gave her a big hug and twirled her around the kitchen, before putting her down and giving her a high five.
‘And you didn’t even check the costings!’
‘Shh,’ she grinned at him. ‘Don’t tell everyone, they’ll think I’ve gone soft.’ With a wink over her shoulder, she walked out of the kitchen back through the dining room and up to reception. The VIP guests were due any moment and she wanted to be there to greet them.
Hekla was waiting in reception for her, she too clad in a cloak with a brooch, although it was a little skewwhiff and her hair was in an intricate braid.
‘Ready?’ asked Lucy.
Hekla nodded. ‘Yes, the Mayor is on his way. His taxi left five minutes ago.’
Lucy raised an enquiring eyebrow and Hekla gave her a mischievous grin.
‘My cousin’s brother is the driver tonight. His wife phoned me.’
‘Where would I be without you and your network?’ asked Lucy, straightening the other girl’s cloak.
‘We couldn’t do it without you Lucy. Don’t forget this was your idea.’
‘Let’s hope it was a good one but thank goodness the electricity is back on.’
Hekla frowned, her fair brows drawing together in thought. ‘It’s very odd, don’t you think, how it just came back on?’
Lucy laughed. ‘On this occasion, I think the huldufólk might have been involved.’
Hekla beamed. ‘I think so too.’
In the bar Alex, Dagur and Gunnar were lined up, they too had been cloaked up and looked rather fetching. She swallowed as Alex gave her a dashing bow, sweeping his cloak out to greet her.
What was it about a man in costume? She scowled at him to hide the traitorous leap of her heart.
‘You’ve done well, Lucy. Tonight’s going to be a huge success. The dining room looks amazing and Kristjan’s menu sounds like a real gourmet treat. I think people are going to be talking about this for a long time. And congratulations on sorting out the electricity. Huldufólk again was it?’
‘You can’t help yourself, can you?’ she swallowed, hating the p
ettiness that dogged her tone.
‘Lucy, we’re on the same side.’
‘Yes, we are … a fact you failed to mention … on so many occasions.’
‘Lucy, think about it, there was never the right time. At first I was doing my job. Then … well I started to like you and there was that spark. Being completely selfish, I was worried it would make you back off. And if you had known … it … it could be construed that I was taking advantage, especially when I knew how much you needed this job. Or people might think you were sleeping with me to get the job. I didn’t want to put you in that position.’
The quiet truth of his words echoed in the pleading expression in his eyes.
‘I had no idea he was sending Gretchen. He told me … he gave me the impression he would keep you. I don’t understand but I’ll talk to him in the morning. We can sort this out. Get your job back.’
Lucy looked at him. ‘You don’t get it. I don’t care about that. I trusted you.’
His eyes fell and he couldn’t look at her.
‘Yeah, those three little words,’ she said with sorrow, her heart shrivelling in her chest, leaving pain and emptiness.
With eyes filled full of anguish and regret, he shook his head. ‘Three more, I messed up.’
‘Yeah, you did.’
A buzz in the doorway announced the arrival of a group of people.
‘Showtime.’ She turned and smoothly went to greet the Mayor and his party which included the head of the tourist board from Reykjavik, the local tourist officer and someone else, who Hekla in a whispered exchange later, told her was from a government department. They all seemed to know each other, of course they did, this was Iceland, and she was quite relieved that she’d decided to keep things informal and not join them for dinner.
For once Clive and his crew kept a discreet distance, filming the VIP party in the bar as Alex and Gunnar served drinks. It had been agreed that they could conduct a couple of interviews after dinner. Hopefully all the visitors would have nice things to say. Lucy crossed her fingers behind her back as she escorted the party down to the dining room which was filling up already from the resident guests who were all oohing and ahhing over the transformation.
The waiters began bringing out the first course and the room filled with the aroma of langoustine, the sweet honeyed smell of caramelised potatoes and the hum of contented customers, and Lucy allowed herself to relax. As she surveyed the room, taking in all the details, checking that everyone was being looked after and that they all looked happy, she felt that familiar thrill. Looking after customers and making them happy, that was why she did this job. Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of Bob, his camera trained on her. Turning to face the camera lens, she paused. The camera closed in on her and she gave it a big full-on smile letting her happiness shine through without feeling the least bit shy or self-conscious.
‘Freya, you were amazing,’ said Lucy plumping down into one of the chairs in front of the fire where the embers still glowed.
All the guests had departed and only the staff remained in the bar, the tealights gently popping out every now and then around the room.
A sense of euphoria and job well done fizzed in the air.
From the dining room the guests had been ushered into the bar and given a shot of Brennivin and once they were settled in the comfy chairs arranged around the fire, Freya had picked her way through to settle on a cushion by the floor. There’d been an audible sigh as she appeared dressed for the occasion in a long flowing green dress with her hair braided into a thick plait, at least twelve inches longer than it had been this morning, which hung down over one shoulder. Like the others she also wore a woollen cape, except this one was floor length and fastened with an even bigger gold brooch. On her lap she’d held had a heavy book, which looked as if it might be a family grimoire full of spells, from which she read a series of traditional folk stories, her soft lilting voice filling the room with tales of princes and forests, witches and sea monsters.
‘The guests were completely mesmerised,’ said Lucy, remembering the hushed spellbound atmosphere. ‘I think the head of the tourist board wants to offer you a job. And as for the Mayor…’
Hekla giggled. They’d had to virtually pour him into his official car, almost tearful in his appreciation of the best night ever.
‘Everyone loved it,’ said Hekla giving Freya’s plait an affectionate tug. ‘Viking girl.’
Freya grinned. ‘The extensions were a good idea.’
‘The story telling was a wonderful idea,’ said Brynja, leaning forward and patting Lucy’s shoulder.
‘Elin made the costumes.’
Elin grinned. ‘Shh don’t tell Lucy, but I used a throw to make Freya’s cloak.’
Lucy laughed, taking a sip of her spirit. ‘I thought it looked familiar.’ She looked around at all of them, a hitch in her chest. She raised her glass.
‘Thank you everyone. I’m so proud of you all. Tonight was a real teamwork effort. You all did your bit.’ She deliberately avoided looking at Alex. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’
Olafur ducked his head, when she tried to catch his eye.
‘It was very successful. We took a lot of money behind the bar,’ said Dagur, with an avaricious grin. ‘The Mayor was very generous with his expense account. He bought drinks for lots of people.’
‘Good because Lucy didn’t check my budget on the food,’ said Kristjan with a teasing smile.
‘I didn’t need to,’ she said. ‘You did a fab job. And I know that I can trust you.’ She gave him a smile as he blushed and toasted her with his glass. ‘All of you, were brilliant.’ She lifted her chin away from Alex, so that he’d know he was not included in that comment.
‘That’s because you let us,’ teased Hekla.
Lucy wrinkled her nose at her. It was true. She’d delegated the tasks and then let them get on with their jobs. And boy had they done her proud and it was all caught on camera. Only the film crew were a little disappointed that near disaster had been averted without going down to the wire but as Clive glibly announced, with a huge grin waving a large glass of whisky about, they could edit the final footage to make it look far worse. Thankfully they’d all disappeared to bed once the Mayor had left, as they had to pack for their departure the following day. Not a moment too soon as far as Lucy was concerned.
‘Oh yes,’ said Hekla. ‘We all did good.’ She curled her feet underneath in one of the chairs and snagging a cushion for behind her head. ‘Agneta from the tourist board was very impressed. She wanted to know who the chef was, she thinks you’re a genius.’
Kristjan preened in the red glow of the fire, stretching his feet out in front of him and putting his hands behind his head with a cocky grin.
‘Don’t tell him that,’ said Alex at exactly the same moment as Lucy said, ‘Don’t tell him that.’
Her lip curled, furious with herself. They were so bloody similar and she wondered if it had been the other way around, would she have told him who she was?
‘He’ll want a pay rise,’ finished Alex with a wry smile at Lucy. Clenching her jaw, she ignored him and turned to Hekla, realising that she was holding the young chef’s hand and said, ‘You don’t want him turning into a prima donna.’
‘Someone has to be on reception in the morning,’ said Hekla heaving herself out of her chair, tugging at Kristjan’s hand. ‘And I’m sure you want to check the kitchen is all finished.’
Kristjan turned bright pink, nodding and gave a tongue-tied response half in English and half in Icelandic.
‘And you’re on breakfast too,’ said Brynja dragging Gunnar up out of his chair.
Oh no, they weren’t doing that to her. She stood up with them, ignoring Alex who also stood, trying to catch her eye. He could forget it. He’d had plenty of time before to explain things and he hadn’t chosen to. She didn’t want to hear any more now.
Chapter 29
Gretchen was sitting in her chair at her desk w
hen Lucy walked into the office. So that was the way it was going to be, was it? Ignoring Gretchen, Lucy went straight to the coffee machine and made herself a black coffee without saying a word to her. Hekla sauntered in, widened her eyes and like a trapped moth stopped in the doorway unsure whether to come in or leave.
‘Morning Hekla,’ said Lucy as if she didn’t have a care in the world. ‘Sleep well after the excitement of the banquet?’
‘Ja,’ said Hekla her usual enthusiastic smile reasserting itself. ‘It was one of our best nights.’
Then she pulled a horrified expression as if realising that perhaps she’d said the wrong thing.
‘It was an excellent night for the lodge,’ Lucy reassured her, with a weak smile. A professional triumph, even if it had been a personal disaster. But only if she let it.
She’d lain awake for most of the night thinking about Alex. Yes, he’d let her down by not telling her the truth about who he really was but she owed it to herself and to him to talk to him properly today. She’d given Olafur a second chance last night, maybe Alex deserved one too. In hindsight, he’d seemed as shocked as she was to see Gretchen and just as horrified to hear that she’d been given the job. In fact, over the last couple of weeks, he’d been so adamant that Lucy would be kept on, almost as if he knew something and then he’d said last night that Quentin had given him the impression he would.
Lucy sighed and rubbed her tight forehead, as if to ease the nagging headache that had dogged her since she’d woken this morning.
She hadn’t put up a fight when she lost her job last time. She’d walked away and accepted the situation. This time she wasn’t giving up on Alex or the job.