Chapter Twelve
Twelve
Yes! I was finally close enough to the Wi-Fi lounge to pick it up and my phone was pinging rapid-fire in my pocket.
I didn’t want Tore and Henrik to think I was some kind of tech desperado, so I hid behind a pine tree to check my messages. Over fifty likes for my photo of the fjords. Including Mark. Still watching what I was up to. And so many comments:
Beautiful! / I’ve always wanted to go to Norway. / Refreshing to see somewhere new. / Looks amazing! / Fab photos. / DM me to collab.
I’d become a travel influencer overnight but didn’t have time to reply to my new fans. I zipped through and liked all the comments, then homed in on Mark’s.
Are you in Bergen?
I didn’t want to publicly answer, so I sent him a DM.
Hey. Yes, well spotted. Vegan spa. Very exclusive. I’ll send you a pin and you can check it out.
A pair of birds were scrapping above me as I swiped through to TikTok, and a branch full of snow emptied onto my head. The icy sludge slid past my neck and I screamed as it shimmied down my back.
‘Sara? Is that you?’
I peered around the trunk, my hair now full of snow, and Henrik was leaning out of a window up at the farmhouse.
‘Yes, only me! Morning!’ I waved my phone by way of explanation.
He chuckled. ‘I recognised the scream. You can sit in the lounge, you know. You don’t have to Wordle in the bushes.’
‘I didn’t want to disturb the tech-free vibe,’ I replied. ‘I was just looking at flights.’ The snow had started up again, settling as tiny snowflakes on my fingerless gloves and melting on my cheeks.
‘Really? Are you still keen to leave? I didn’t think the flights were running. We don’t like to take chances with these flash Arctic storms.’
I logged in to check my flights and the website was covered in red. Cancelled today and delayed tomorrow. Bloody hell! I’d be stuck here forever.
Henrik frowned. ‘Are they not showing up as cancelled?’
‘Hmm… yes, it does look that way,’ I said, trying to play it cool while I worked out another route home. Maybe I could tap Danny Jackson up for that favour and ask him to send me a private jet. I needed airlifting out of here. Or some vodka and beefburgers airlifting in.
‘We’ll get you on the first flight we can – don’t worry,’ Henrik said. ‘Jonas knows one of the guys at the airport, so we’ll get a heads-up when things start moving. Until then, you’ll have to try and enjoy yourself.’
‘I am enjoying myself. It’s just…’
‘…not Sweden?’ Henrik finished, his brown eyes sparkling. Was he laughing at me?
‘It’s not Sweden, no, and it’s also not quite what I was expecting.’
‘The snow won’t stop the programme activities here – we are quite used to it. Are you joining us for the geothermal pools later? It’s a wonderful, healing experience.’
‘Anything thermal sounds good to me – I love being outdoors in the water. I did some wild water swimming out in Greece a few years ago and was obsessed.’
‘These pools are small, but I can take you to the swimming lakes another day if you like?’
‘That would be great!’ I said, knowing full well I wouldn’t be around long enough for it to happen.
‘And the heating in your cabin is all sorted now? It is nice and warm?’
‘Toasty,’ I reluctantly admitted. ‘The bed is so soft. It snuggles me down somehow, then lulls me into a deep sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. I woke up this morning and felt like I’d been drugged.’
‘That’ll be Greta’s blankets. My sister-in-law to be. She crochets them by hand and says they are full of moon magic, so once you’re under one, it’s impossible to have a bad night’s sleep.’
‘I can testify to that,’ I said, smiling.
‘Not all bad here, then?’
‘Not even half bad. It’s beautiful.’
He nodded slowly. ‘It really is. Well, see you at the Sun Hut in half an hour.’
There was just enough time to dash back and pop my tankini on, which had been drying by the fire.
It was the only one I had with full bum coverage – I wouldn’t be able to relax in a G-string.
The wood burner was glowing bright, despite the vegan firelighters, and I’d felt so proud this morning when the ashes still had a tiny spark.
I’d somehow kept the fire going overnight, like a vigilant cavewoman, by doing nothing more than sleeping under a magic blanket.
I slipped inside the Sun Hut on the dot of 10 a.m. and quietly stomped the snow off my boots. Ten of the guests sat cross-legged at Tore’s feet, staring up at him adoringly, waiting for him to speak.
‘Good morning. Today you will get to experience the geothermal pools here that are etched into the mountain. There are eight in total, each one with a different level of heat and velocity. Some are hot, some are mineral-heavy and very buoyant, some have a lot of pressure running through them, but I’ll leave you to discover which is which for yourselves. Please enjoy.’
Everyone stood up and started milling about.
‘Oh, and to remind you all,’ Tore shouted over the din. ‘You must have a naked shower – with soap – before you get in the pool.’ Obsessed. ‘The PH balance of our pools is extremely delicate and very precious to us. Perfume, deodorant, body creams and oils, anything like this, can ruin it.’
I sidled over to Ethel, who was the only other person standing. ‘Morning,’ I whispered.
She briefly lowered her ear trumpet to acknowledge me, looking the height of silver-screen sophistication in her long-sleeved swimsuit and fabulous tartan cloak. Super Gran on tour.
Henrik walked in, followed by a muscly double who could only be his brother.
They were wearing matching red swimming trunks that left little to the imagination and Firefly robes.
I’d been too distracted by possible death in the sauna the other night, and then possible death in the snow, to properly appreciate Henrik’s body.
I needed to get back in the saddle and holiday was always the best place to let loose.
No recriminations. I flashed him a smile to test the water, and he looked back at me confused.
‘If the pool feels hot on your skin, get out immediately and take a seat in the relaxation area,’ Tore said. ‘We don’t want to take any risks. No jumping, diving or splashing. And if you somehow get water in your mouth – spit, don’t swallow.’
That got a few titters.
‘Sounds like this will be a right laugh,’ I muttered.
Ethel gave me a sharp look.
‘It’s a lot of rules for a hot tub, isn’t it?’
‘You’re always complaining,’ she said, with a frown. ‘Try being a little more positive. You might surprise yourself.’
‘Me?!’ I turned round in case she was talking to someone else. ‘I’m not complaining… I was just saying.’
‘Far too much saying going on then, if you ask me. First the weather and the food, then the Wi-Fi, and now this. The rules are there to keep the pools clean, so we can all enjoy them. Don’t go in if you’re going to spoil it for the rest of us.’
The other guests were looking at us, and I could feel my cheeks burning as Ethel strode off towards the showers.
It had been a while since I’d been told off like that and my heart was racing.
How dare she! I was supposed to be on an uber-glam spa break, never not knowingly being massaged and half-cut on dirty martinis.
‘Are you OK, Sara?’ Tore asked, a concerned look on his face.
‘Yes,’ I said, forcing a smile onto my face. ‘I was just telling Ethel how much I’m looking forward to this.’
‘And you are having a naked wash?’ he asked.
Like I had a choice. ‘Absolutely. I’ll just wait until some of the others come out.’ I was starting to worry they had cameras set up and we were being livestreamed on the dark web.
I poured myself a glass of water for the stress and Henrik came over with his sausage-smuggling sibling.
‘Sara, I’m not sure you’ve met my brother, Jonas?’
‘I haven’t. Hi – lovely to meet you.’
‘Likewise,’ Jonas said, shaking my hand. Another tree of a man with the same melt-in-the-mouth chocolate eyes as Henrik, but with bottle-bleached hair, as opposed to Henrik’s dark blond, professional surfer vibe.
‘Jonas is the head chef here and makes all the cakes and pastries for breakfast – and the sourdough, of course.’
‘You bake the bread fresh every day?’ I was impressed. ‘Can’t you just bulk-buy it from the Euro Spar and whack it in the freezer? No one would know!’
‘I would know,’ Jonas said.
‘Well, yes, but it’d taste the same and you’d get more sleep.’
Jonas looked at Henrik as if I were mad. ‘It wouldn’t taste the same. My bread has a special ingredient in it.’
‘This is why Jonas and Greta are such a good couple. Magic blankets and magic baguettes,’ Henrik said, with a chuckle. ‘You sprinkle the dough with love, don’t you, Jo-bro?’
‘Among other things,’ Jonas said, tapping his nose. ‘I can’t give away my culinary secrets.’
I had to admit the sourdough was deliciously moreish. I hoped the special ingredient wasn’t cocaine or magic mushrooms. It certainly wasn’t a preservative of any kind as the bread was always rock-hard by bedtime.
‘Is it OK to borrow one of the Firefly dressing gowns, again, for today?’ I asked, realising I once again had nothing but a cabin towel to wrap around my middle. Henrik slipped his robe off and handed it to me. ‘Oh no, sorry, I didn’t mean yours!’
‘We don’t have any spares, I’m afraid – you were in Jonas’s last night. It’s fine, honestly. I’m used to the cold.’
I felt bad, but I wasn’t used to the cold and was very worried about getting hypothermia. What kind of retreat didn’t provide dressing gowns? This one. ‘I’m happy to pay you to hire it?’ I said, trying to appease my inner guilt.
Jonas laughed. ‘He can’t charge you for that old thing – it’s never been washed.’
‘Course it has,’ Henrik said, getting him in a noogie. ‘Ignore him – it looks better on you anyway.’