Chapter Twenty
Reindeer move like whispers across the snow.
Graceful and silent, they are living threads in the tapestry of Arctic magic.
The guests who left the Triton Lounge with instructions on how to join the departing coaches for An Evening with the Sámis were in a jovial mood.
After a relaxing day at sea, they stepped ashore ready to embrace the evening as everyone found the correct transport, and the party set off.
As Joy boarded, she noticed that Barbara and Kenneth were seated at the front, having bagged the best seats on the coach again.
Barbara, bundled in fur and avoiding eye contact, stared pointedly out of the window.
Making her way, Joy heard someone shout her name and turned to see Henry wedged behind two boarding couples, his head leaned to one side to catch her attention. As he stepped onto the coach, he called, ‘Save me a seat!’
Joy felt a tiny ripple of pleasure that he’d singled her out. Halfway down the aisle, she spotted an empty seat and, removing her coat, she placed it on the rack above and then sat down by the window.
As Henry caught up with Joy, he looked relieved. ‘I hope you don’t mind?’
Joy was more than happy that Henry had joined her. The nerves she’d felt about visiting the Sámi camp alone vanished almost instantly. ‘I’m delighted,’ she replied.
The coach departed, and the guide explained that the journey was approximately forty minutes long, taking them from Troms? to travel through the countryside until they reached their destination.
Outside, the sky was black, and there was little to see as the city lights faded, giving way to the shadowy silhouettes of trees and snow-covered hills gliding by in the darkness.
Henry asked how Joy had spent her day and listened with interest as she explained her astonishment at receiving Lady Eleanor’s invitation, her worry over what to wear, and then her description of finding a new dress in the ship’s boutique.
‘I think you’re very wise. One needs to feel comfortable at such an event, and if the gown does the trick, then it’s a sound investment.’
Henry understood her dilemma and Joy felt pleased by his response.
It was, she suspected, precisely the kind of support Tom would never have offered.
He would have told her to wear the navy outfit.
It was a practical, reliable dress and, therefore, should be worn.
But then again, would the invitation have been extended if Tom had been with her?
Joy set aside thoughts of Tom and turned to Henry, who was telling her about his day.
He described his ‘slipper’ incident, alluding to Jennifer, the lady who tidied his cabin, and Joy wasn’t sure if he was amused or mildly traumatised.
Henry then went on to explain that he’d sat through a stupefying lecture on how Norwegian farmers might thrive today.
A talk, he explained, that was so dry it could have been harvested for hay.
‘That bad?’ Joy asked.
‘Worse,’ Henry admitted. ‘The speaker, Aren, came onto the stage in a traditional embroidered costume consisting of a jacket, vest, and breeches, and I sat back, hoping for something that included the history of farming over the centuries to the present day.’ He folded his arms and smiled.
‘But instead, the talk was more Farmer Wants a Wife, followed by how the government should supply free Wi-Fi and provide a generous subsidy.’
‘In that order?’ Joy smiled.
‘Actually, I think the wife came last.’
Joy giggled. ‘Did the talk improve?’
‘Hardly,’ Henry replied with a wry smile. ‘After seventy-eight slides, each more mind-numbing than the last, I started to realise that I was the only one still awake in the room.’
Joy nodded sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry it was so dull. It was probably on a par with the Women’s Institute gathering, where, I hate to admit, I too nodded off to sleep.’
Comfortable in the other’s company, the journey flew by, and the coach soon rumbled onto a winding uphill road to a snow-covered stop. As the doors swung open, an icy chill swept in, and everyone reached for their outerwear.
Waiting to greet them was Matti, their Sámi host.
Dressed in a traditional gákti, the rich reds and blues of his jacket and trousers were embroidered with detailed patterns that spoke of his heritage and tribe. Beneath his fur-lined cap, his rugged face was smiling.
‘Velkommen!’ Matti called out in his rich melodic voice, ‘Welcome to our home.’
On a smaller coach, Simon sat opposite Leticia and Jim, and to his delight, Kyle boarded and chose the seat next to him. As he made himself comfortable, Kyle placed a plastic box on the table that separated them from Leticia and Jim and proceeded to produce paper napkins.
‘One of my friends in the kitchen made these for my birthday,’ he said and removed the lid. ‘They’re called Fiskekaker bites, mini fishcakes, and they’re delicious. Do try one.’
Simon reached in and had to agree that the tiny salmon nibbles were tasty, with a crisp outside and a hint of spiced dill.
He wondered if Kyle had a special friend in the kitchen and if they’d supplied the contraband as, officially, chefs weren’t allowed to hand out food.
But as he bit into the mouth-watering morsel, he decided that some rules could be overlooked.
‘Happy birthday, Kyle.’ Leticia smiled. ‘We’ll toast your special day with a Fiskekaker.’
‘Many happy returns,’ Jim joined in. ‘I hope you’ve been celebrating.’
Kyle explained that he’d been busy all day with fitness classes and a personal training session for a couple who were keen to stay fit despite their later years. ‘Nora and Sid are solo travellers but they’ve got together on the cruise.’
‘How lovely for them,’ Leticia said.
‘Yes, it’s great when we see guests chumming up during their holiday,’ Kyle replied, his face lighting up. ‘Lots of singletons find their way to each other. One minute they’re watching a show in the Triton Lounge and the next they’re inseparable.’
Leticia chuckled. ‘Cruise Cupid strikes.’
‘Exactly,’ Kyle said, ‘bracing air, fine food, lovely locations – it’s a matchmaking service at sea!’ He threw a glance at Simon.
Simon shuffled in his seat and, with a nervous cough, diverted the conversation. ‘It was fortuitous that your name came out of the draw,’ he said. ‘The evening ahead will be memorable.’
‘I’m thrilled to come on this trip.’ Kyle grinned, his face lighting up.
‘I have the best job in the world, travelling to so many different destinations, and now, here I am on a Christmas cruise in the Arctic with snow, mountains, fjords and, best of all, I’m about to meet a herd of reindeer.
’ Kyle’s enthusiasm was infectious as he kept up a constant chatter.
He offered Leticia and Jim a private meditation session, insisting that it would help them align their Arctic energy.
‘You’ll love it,’ he said brightly, ‘I can teach you how to breathe out any stress.’
‘Leticia has plenty of energy for both of us, but I’m game for a session as long as I don’t have to sit cross-legged,’ Jim laughed.
Their coach, equipped for passengers with mobility issues, arrived at their destination, where a beaming Matti stepped forward. ‘Velkommen!’ he called out as the doors opened.
Simon and Leticia assisted Jim, who wore a fur-lined parka coat and matching bomber hat which he pulled low over his ears, and soon, the couple were seated comfortably in the waiting snowmobile. Matti informed them that the other guests were currently ascending the path to the camp.
‘See you at the top,’ Kyle smiled and waved as the snowmobile set off. He adjusted the hood of his coat, the fur trim framing his face, and as he wriggled his fingers into warm gloves, turned to Simon. ‘Looks a bit steep. Shall we race?’
Simon wondered if Kyle was taking a hallucinatory drug and suddenly saw Simon as an athlete. He hadn’t raced anywhere since coming last in the egg and spoon contest at junior school.
Zipping his coat over his bulging tummy and thrusting a hand into his pocket where his fingers sought out his Egyptian amulet, Simon wondered how to reply. ‘I really don’t think …’ he began but paused when he saw that Kyle was laughing.
‘Only joking,’ Kyle said, ‘but be careful on the ice. Why don’t we go slowly, together.’
To Simon’s surprise, Kyle tucked his arm into his own to steady them and gave him a reassuring squeeze. ‘Let’s enjoy the walk. There’s no need to rush.’
Relieved and slightly surprised by Kyle’s thoughtfulness, Simon nodded, and they began their ascent side-by-side, crunching through the thick snow, the crisp Arctic air filling Simon’s overworked lungs.
‘Do you think we’ll see the Northern Lights?’ Kyle asked. ‘It would make my birthday and my Christmas,’ he added.
Simon paused to catch his breath. ‘Bill Zhang predicted too much cloud this evening, but you never know. It might lift and surprise us.’
‘Is it true that if you wish on the aurora borealis, your wish will come true?’ Kyle asked.
‘Well, that’s a lovely thought, but I think it’s more legend than fact,’ Simon replied as they set off again. ‘I know that the Sámi people regard the aurora with respect and believe that it is connected to spirits in some way.’
‘Well, if we see it, I shall take a chance and make a birthday wish.’ Kyle’s voice, though light, was sincere.
Simon felt the amulet nestling solidly in his gloved fingers. He glanced at his companion and saw something hopeful in his expression, earnest and almost childlike, as though he genuinely dreamed of the possibility of wishes coming true.
But Simon didn’t. Dreams were for sleep and wishes for wells. Still, he smiled and, rubbing the amulet harder, said, ‘Then I’ll make one too, it can’t hurt to try.’
As they trudged, the puffy clouds in the sky overhead suddenly began to thin, and a narrow streak of deepening blue, highlighted by a faint glow, slowly appeared.