Chapter Twenty-One
Where silent stars watch over silent seas, Christmas drifts in on an Arctic breeze …
Christmas Eve, and after a lie-in, Leticia had decided that they would enjoy a leisurely brunch in their suite.
Anxious that Jim might have overdone things the day before, she wanted to start the day quietly, with no busy buffet restaurant, nor bustling dining room.
Instead, she’d arranged for warm pastries, savoury sausages, and softly scrambled eggs, all delivered impeccably under silver domes and placed on a table by their balcony.
Pouring them both a glass of champagne, Leticia winked. ‘For medicinal purposes,’ she said, ‘and a toast to the love of my life.’ She placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder and leaned in to rest her cheek against his. ‘And as it’s Christmas, I won’t fight you for the last sausage.’
Leticia wore a onesie, festively patterned with snowflakes and Christmas trees, and as Jim’s eyes followed her, she danced around the table, singing ‘Santa Baby’ off-key. Her braids billowed out as she moved.
‘You’re as bright as the Northern Lights.’ Jim grinned and raised his glass to his cavorting wife. ‘I know visiting Norway is part of our bucket list … but this trip is mostly about our precious time together.’
Leticia plopped down beside him. She’d thought he’d be tired from the late evening the night before, but the light in his eyes suggested otherwise. Jim’s smile was one of happiness, and he radiated an energy she hadn’t seen for a while.
‘I enjoy every moment together, my darling, no matter where we are,’ Leticia said, kissing Jim’s cheek, then added, ‘and I think the silent disco last night suited you.’
Arriving back on the ship after their evening with the reindeer, they’d headed to the silent disco.
Wearing headphones tuned to music of their choice, they’d moved around the dance floor, long past midnight, with Jim guiding his wheelchair energetically through his rock and roll moves and Leticia twirling with abandon to Motown.
‘I almost imagined that I was on my feet and dancing right beside you,’ Jim said softly.
‘Seated or standing, you have better rhythm than me.’ Leticia laughed. ‘Now don’t move, I have something for you.’ She went to the bedroom and reappeared with a parcel tied with red ribbon. ‘Happy Christmas,’ she whispered, kissing Jim again.
He carefully unwrapped a solid silver pen and a leather journal, on which his initials were inscribed in gold. On the first page, Leticia had written,
Commit all the beautiful memories we’re making together, on these pages xx
‘It’s perfect,’ Jim smiled. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a velvet-covered box.
Leticia gasped when she opened it, and Jim slipped a stunning ice diamond ring onto her finger. ‘It looks like a frozen snowflake,’ she whispered.
‘To remind you of our Arctic cruise,’ Jim said, ‘now and always.’
Leticia stared at her husband, drinking in the love shining in his eyes, and her throat tightened.
Holding her hand, his voice was soft, ‘Let the ring be your always … for the days when I no longer will be.’
Instinctively, Leticia wanted to tell Jim not to say such things, but honesty had always been their pact, both knowing that his days were numbered. She held his hand a little tighter and smiled bravely. Truth, even the hardest kind, wouldn’t dim what they had.
‘I’m never going to take it off,’ she announced.
‘You’ll wear it even when you’re gardening?’
‘Especially then.’ Leticia held her hand high to admire the glittering stone. ‘Even when it’s covered with muddy soil, I shall feel like the Queen of the Arctic.’ She gave Jim a lingering kiss, then busied herself insisting that they tuck into their brunch.
As Leticia enjoyed the delicious food, her mind drifted back to the evening before. She remembered, as their coach was preparing to leave for the ship, seeing Joy and Henry walking arm in arm.
‘Do you think Joy and Henry are getting together?’ she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.
‘They seemed very cosy from where I was sitting,’ Jim replied.
‘I have a feeling there is more to Joy than she’s letting on.’
Jim chuckled. ‘Well, if anyone can prise out secrets, it’s you.’
‘I don’t mean in a sinister way,’ Leticia continued.
‘I’ll leave that to Barbara’s malicious mind.
That woman has a poisonous tongue. But there’s something about Joy that I can’t quite put my finger on, and my instinct tells me …
’ She paused, searching for the words, ‘Whatever it might be, it’s waiting for the right moment to reveal itself. ’
‘No doubt,’ Jim concurred, ‘but in the meantime we’re here in Troms?, and what have you got planned for the day?’
‘Well, if you’re up to it, we’ll take the courtesy coach into town for a little Christmas shopping and a visit to the Arctic Cathedral.’
‘Sounds perfect,’ Jim agreed. He reached out with his fork, ‘Now about that last sausage …’
At eleven-thirty on Christmas Eve morning, Barbara was in the Ice Bar in Troms?, sitting on a polar bear’s knee.
At minus six degrees in the room, the ice-sculptured creature was as cold as Kenneth’s eyes as he stared at his wife in disbelief.
He should have known that stepping into this tourist trap so early was a massive mistake.
Taking a taxi to the centre of Troms?, to avoid mingling with passengers on the ship’s courtesy coach, Kenneth had intended to enjoy a wander around the marina, where the snow was thick and lights from the magnificent Arctic Cathedral could be seen twinkling against the polar night sky.
But within moments of placing their walking boots on the heated pavement, Barbara had spotted Troms?’s famous Ice Bar.
‘Oh, look!’ she’d exclaimed. ‘We must go and see the ice sculptures.’
Now, he was deeply regretting the diversion.
‘Babs, darling,’ Kenneth began, and flicked his wrist to check the time, ‘you’re on your fourth Frosty Cocktail, don’t you think you should ease up?’
‘Not at these prices …’ Barbara slurred, clutching her ice cup, encased in its plastic cone. She swirled the ruby-red contents as though it might reveal answers. ‘Daylight robbery,’ she muttered. ‘Seven hundred kroner for a couple of mugs of berry juice.’
‘Sweetie, that berry-like liqueur is fifty per cent alcohol, which even for you, is a bit much before noon.’
‘Oh, bogof, Kenny,’ Barbara muttered.
‘Yes, buy-one-get-one-free might be appealing, but after two rounds, I think you should call it a day.’
Barbara glared at Kenneth. She was contemplating calling it a day on her marriage, after his inability to secure their place at the captain’s dinner table and Lady Eleanor’s Christmas Eve soirée.
The lack of an invite was ruining her cruise, and despite the Frosty Cocktails, Barbara’s mood wasn’t improving.
Dressed in a long rubber cape with a vast hood, courtesy of the Ice Bar, which provided such items to protect patrons’ clothing from frost, Barbara regretted donning the outfit to cover her precious furs and reckoned that if she carried a broomstick she would be mistaken for a witch.
Kenneth, having waved a cape aside, was frozen to the bone in his waterproof cagoule.
He thought that his wife resembled the Grim Reaper and was tempted to tell her so, but noting her icy expression, he decided that he valued his life too much and smiled faintly, subconsciously willing Barbara not to drink any more.
Kenneth looked around and wondered which was the best route to ease his wife out of the bar.
The frozen corridors, under blue LED lights, led to other themed rooms, and despite cheery Christmas lanterns, the maze-like rooms appeared more like prison cells and were daunting to navigate.
Barbara began to sway on her polar bear perch and Kenneth extended his hand with exaggerated cheer.
‘How about a spot of lunch?’ he asked brightly.
‘I want an invitation …’ Barbara slammed her empty cone down, splintering the ice in the plastic cup.
‘Yes, dear, all sorted, just as soon as we find our way out of here.’
Kenneth took her hand and yanked Barbara to her feet.
As her body slumped, he slid her awkwardly away from her seat.
Her hood flopped forward, covering Barbara’s face and as they shuffled past a group of wide-eyed Americans, a Texan drawl boomed out, ‘Hey, y’all!
I swear, there really are trolls in Norway. ’
Kenneth resisted the urge to punch the Texan on the nose.
But, as his outstretched arm would barely reach the man’s Stetson, he settled for a cold glare before steering Barbara away, her hood shielding further humiliation as they stumbled through the Frozen Crypt, which adjoined the Black Ice Tomb, then into the Icebound Catacombs to the exit.
Once outside and with Barbara’s outerwear returned to reception, Kenneth breathed deeply with relief.
He straightened his wife’s fur coat and hat.
‘Now, dear,’ he said, and searched around for a taxi, ‘a nice buffet-style meal with a variety of hearty dishes, is just what we need on a cold day like today.’
‘What I need … is an invitation …’ Barbara’s eyes were glassy, but her theme remained the same.
‘Not that old chestnut again.’ Kenneth sighed as a taxi pulled up and he manipulated her into the warmth of the cosy cab.
‘Hei,’ the driver said, ‘where to?’
Kenneth stared at Barbara and decided that a restaurant was too risky and gave instructions to the driver to head back to the ship.
For the time being, Barbara would be best off in the safety of their suite.
In the meantime, unless he wanted a war with his wife when she sobered up, Kenneth had to find a way to gatecrash Lady Eleanor’s soirée.
But, unbeknown to Kenneth, his wife had already devised a plan …