Tav’s quiet for a moment, thinking it over, and even in the midst of this, with two reindeer and a distressed woman shouting, I appreciate that about him. ‘He feels guilty. He got reflective after the heart attack. Thinking over mistakes he’s made in his life. The way things have gone between you is his biggest regret. I don’t think there’s anything nefarious in these, Sash. He was trying to make up for the Christmases he failed you.’
‘Or did he know it would come to this? Did he painstakingly plan to make me fall in love with this place, knowing I could come to the rescue by selling the house?’
The chatter of tourists and the laughter of children filtering across the forest brings into sharp focus the juxtaposition of how hopeless I feel. I’ve never felt less Christmassy, and that’s saying something.
‘I can’t believe he’s capable of that. He’d be a different man than I thought—’
‘Ho ho ho!’ My dad’s rumbling laugh approaches through the trees. ‘What’s going on out here then? Anja said something about a trapped reindeer.’
I let out an audible groan. Dealing with Tav is one thing, but trying to handle them both together and this revelation is too much.
Like Tav can sense that, he tugs the reindeer’s rope and starts walking off, beckoning for Rudolph to follow him.
‘You two need to talk.’ He holds the pages out to me as he passes, and when I snatch them from his hand, he waits until I look up at him, his blue-brown eyes uncomfortably open and honest, and for just a second, I suspect he’s telling the truth.
But the moment sputters away when the Arctic breeze rustles through the forest and flaps the papers in my hand, reminding me of quite how ridiculous this situation is.
Tav sighs. ‘I’ll take the reindeer back and give her a proper check-over. Come and find me when you’re ready. We can sort this out.’
He vanishes from view between the trees with both reindeer in tow and Dad looks in the direction he went with a puzzled look on his face. ‘Has something happened?’
‘You.’ I shove the pages at him. ‘You’ve happened.’
‘You can’t honestly think he reads these?’ He almost “ho ho ho”s again as he reads over them, clearly not getting that this is also not the time for a jolly Santa act. ‘He indulges me by not telling me where to shove them because I’m a daft old fool and he’s a gent. Can you imagine being able to tell a man like Tav what to do?’
‘Then why do you send them?’
‘To feel like I’m earning my title as owner? The truth is I’ve been pretty useless since last year. When I took over, I had so many grand plans, but they all fell through because of my health. I’ve let him down. These lists are me trying to make myself feel worthwhile. I thought if I could curate his endless list of tasks into some kind of logical order, it might be less overwhelming. It’s selfishness really, to make myself feel like I’m making a contribution to the place.’
Even though I understand that, and I can easily imagine how frustrated my dad is by the limitations of his old age, it doesn’t make this any better. ‘None of that explains this. From the very first second you phoned, I’ve felt like my decisions were being pre-decided for me. On that phone call, you’d decided I was coming here before I’d even answered the call. You must’ve written these lists beforehand too. You sounded so ill on the phone. A fragility that magically disappeared as soon as I agreed and hasn’t been evident since I got here.’
‘I wanted to see you, Sash. I may have been exaggerating a little because I was terrified you’d say no and I’d die before I got to see you again.’
The honesty makes my breath catch because I was terrified of the same thing. ‘You should’ve just said that.’
‘I didn’t think you’d come. I wouldn’t have blamed you for telling me where to go. I’ve missed every important event of your life. I’ve never come back when you’ve asked me to. You had every right to refuse when the shoe was on the other foot.’
He shivers, making me realise I’ve forgotten how cold it is. ‘You shouldn’t be outside in only a Santa suit. Come on, the post office isn’t far.’
I’m taller than his shrunken form now and I slip my arm around his shoulders, rubbing his back as we head along the narrow path back to the building.
Inside, I turn the heater up to maximum, make him sit down in the back office, blanket him up, and pour him out a hot chocolate from the flask Tav brought me earlier, and I’m once again grateful for his thoughtfulness, but the idea that maybe that was on a list somewhere too prickles at my mind. It impacts on every aspect of my time here.
Dad’s still clutching the pages in his hand. ‘This was because I wanted him to know some of our history and I was too embarrassed to admit it out loud. He knew things were strained because I talked a little, but it was easier to write it down.’
‘But you can’t plan people’s lives like this. You basically paid him to spend time with me. I thought he liked me, but it was because his boss had instructed him to. I’ve never been a priority in anyone’s life, and I thought Tav was different.’ I perch on the edge of the oak desk and sip a hot chocolate that does nothing to warm me up.
‘I didn’t tell him to spend time with you, Sasha. That was all him.’
‘You told him to make me feel important!’
‘Yeah, in a butler-ish way. I didn’t want you to want for anything this Christmas. I wanted someone to attend your every need. I know you don’t like the outdoorsy life and he’s an excellent guide when it comes to things like that.’
‘That is not what’s written on those pages. It goes a lot more in-depth than being some sort of wilderness guide.’
‘He doesn’t read them. He gave it a glance and told me not to be so patronising. Everything he’s done has been his own choice. I might be the owner, but I’m not his boss in a traditional sense. I don’t have any authority over him.’ He fiddles with his empty cup. ‘All I wanted was to give you a nice Christmas. The North Pole Forest makes me feel like a child again. I wanted you to experience that magic. A way of making up for lost time. Tav is the magic behind this place, and I wanted him to share that with you. A childhood Christmas, like the ones you missed out on.’
‘All I’ve ever wanted for Christmas was to be important enough for you to spend it with me.’
It seems to take the wind right out of Dad’s sails. ‘And you never felt like you were.’ He says it as a statement, not a question. ‘It wasn’t because of you. I was battling my own demons, my own grief.’
‘But you never thought about mine. I was twelve. I’d lost my mum. I needed a father around, not halfway up a skyscraper somewhere in Saudi Arabia wrestling Komodo dragons. I needed us to grieve together. I know things were different without Mum, and Nan was great, but she didn’t know our lives. So many times I wanted to reminisce with the only other person who was actually there, to think of the Christmases we used to have, to remember the good times. I needed to matter more to you than your next great adventure.’
‘I haven’t been on adventures. I’ve been running away.’
‘From what?’
He puts his cup down on the chair arm and takes the Santa hat off his head to fiddle with the white pompom on the end. ‘From the fact I killed her.’
‘Mum? It was an accident. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.’
‘But if I’d been going slower or my reactions had been faster … I was driving and I walked away unhurt.’
‘You had three broken ribs, organ damage, and internal bleeding! You were in hospital for weeks!’
‘But I lived. She didn’t.’
My breath catches and a lump forms in my throat. I had no idea he felt like that. No idea he’d ever blamed himself for the accident. He never spoke about it afterwards. He recovered from his injuries in silence. He barely left his room after my nan came to stay, and then he left for his first great expedition.
‘When I’m doing something adventurous, it’s the only time I don’t think about it. That’s why I’
ve kept chasing adrenalin rushes. Because they’re the only thing that’s ever temporarily blocked out the feelings of guilt. Coming back to our happy family home, being still and quiet, in the places she loved but without her … I couldn’t do it. And you’re right. I was so wrapped up in my own grief that I never stopped to consider yours. I thought you were better off without me.’
‘That’s not true. It never even crossed my mind to blame you.’
‘I blamed myself and I always will do. But this place … Coming here was the first time I wanted to stop running. I got the job as Santa Claus because it sounded like fun, but as soon as I set foot here, something changed. Something tethered me to this place. It’s been like having a part of your mum back. The first time I came here, I felt like she was with me. I couldn’t wait to come back for the next festive season.’
I look upwards and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stop the tears from falling. ‘Mum would’ve adored it here.’
‘And him. Can you imagine how much she would’ve loved Tav?’
I smile at the thought. She really would.
‘Tav’s a big part of the sense of peace I feel here. Someone so centred and grounded. I still don’t know what happened to him, but I’ve got an idea because of the connection I felt with him from the first time we met, and because he doesn’t hide those scars nearly as well as he thinks he does.’
I have to stamp down the all-too-familiar urge to find him and hug him. I didn’t realise the importance of him opening up to me. Was that carefully constructed too? And maybe the point is that I can never tell. I will never know if anything Tav did was genuine or because it was his task of the day.
‘And now I’ve let you all down.’ Dad puts the Santa hat back on his head and then takes it off again. ‘You, him, and your mum. I wanted to do something to make her proud, and instead I’ve meddled and tried too hard and it’s all gone pear-shaped. Don’t let this change things between you and Tav.’
‘It’s a bit late for that.’
‘I know Tav. He can’t fake anything. I’ve never seen him like he is around you. There’s nothing about that that’s false. You’ve metaphorically swept him off his feet. He’s in a daze whenever you’re nearby. He puts his head on your shoulder every time you sit next to each other. I’ve known Tav for years and I’ve never even seen him close his eyes. Never seen him relax. He only sits down once in every three blue moons.’
It makes me think of the other day when Tav flopped down beside me on the living room sofa and rested his head on my shoulder and Dad walked in and couldn’t hide his surprise.
‘Don’t let this interfering old fogey ruin what’s happened between you two. You’ve changed him. You’ve made him stop and realise that he is worth taking care of and that he can’t keep going and going forever. Before, I think he felt quite unimportant, like part of the furniture here. This job defined him. He is the North Pole Forest. But you’ve seen him. You’re the first person to realise that he’s a person too – he’s not just a job, and he’d be missed if he was gone, because of him, not because of what he brings to the North Pole Forest.’
‘This changes everything, Dad. It changes his integrity. No matter what he did or didn’t read, I thought we had some mystical connection, that he got me, but he knew everything about me upfront.’ I pace the room, treading on envelopes that have fallen from a nearby mail bag.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to go home.’
‘What? Sasha, you can’t …’ Dad gets up out of the chair, reaching out a hand like he’s trying to stop me.
‘This was all just a fantasy. These pages prove that. Girls like me don’t do things like this. We’re meant to stay where we are. Do run-of-the-mill jobs for people who don’t appreciate us. We don’t step on a plane at a moment’s notice and sell our houses on a whim. We don’t believe in magic because it isn’t real.’
‘Sash, no.’
‘Yes, Dad. This isn’t real life. It never was. It’s a Christmas story. A fairy tale. A magical forest deep in the Arctic Circle where elves dart out of sight and reindeer stick their noses in your windows and “dashing through the snow” is a regular occurrence. But every fairy tale has to end sometime. Accept your other offer. Or don’t. Keep it. You’re in a good position now. You and Tav can take on staff and not go chasing reindeer around frozen forests in the middle of the night. But I have to go back to real life and get a proper job and pretend the last few weeks didn’t happen, because that is what a sensible, rational person would do.’
‘Sasha, don’t let it end like this.’ My dad looks absolutely distraught. The broken look on his face is almost enough to make me doubt my convictions.
‘I’m glad we’ve had this time together.’ My teeth are nearly cutting through the inside of my cheek as I try to keep my emotions in check. I clap my hands on both his upper arms and then bend down to give him a stiff hug, because I’m going to burst into a fountain of tears if he hugs me back. ‘It’s been good to reconnect. I wish you’d told me everything you’ve just said years ago, and I’m glad you’ve found something that makes you happy, but for me, this is absolute proof of what happens when you step outside of your comfort zone.’
‘You find something wonderful?’ Dad pulls back, sounding hopeful.
‘You get hurt.’
Chapter 18
Dear Santa,
Can you bring me a pair of rollerblades that don’t crash so much? The ones you brought me last year are defective because they keep crashing. Can you bring some plasters too?
From,
Blake
Darkness has long since fallen by the time I’ve trekked back up to my cabin, packed my suitcase with clothes that were never really mine but have been more comfortable than anything I own, called a taxi and dodged tourists who thankfully couldn’t see my tears in the fading light.
Not good for business to have people walking around the North Pole Forest sobbing to themselves.
The cab driver barely speaks English, but from his stilted Norwegian ranting, I ascertain that he isn’t happy about being called on Christmas Eve and wants a big tip.
When we pull up at the airport, he opens the door, half yanks me out of the car, throws my suitcase out behind me, and speeds off at approximately seven times the speed of light.
It’s a million miles from the husky dog sled that met me here nearly four weeks ago.
I realise it was a mistake as I stand there and look up at the darkened building.
And not just because the airport is closed.
Oh, holy night. Who the heck closes an airport just because it’s Christmas Eve? Do people not need to travel on holidays? I look at the completely deserted car park, and walk around the side of the building for a glimpse of the runway. The plane I came in is parked up and, judging by the layers of snow, looks like that may well have been the last flight it actually went on.
So, evidently not, then. This is such a tiny airport that the plane is chartered on a personal basis, and it’s not in use tonight. There are signs on the closed door, and I’m hoping one of them might give me a number to call to arrange a flight out, but they’re all written in Norwegian and I can’t understand a word.
Could this day get any better?
As if on cue, a flash streaks across the sky and I look up to see a now-familiar wave of green weaving across the sparkling navy darkness. Instead of making me as happy as it has until now, it makes me lose control of the emotions I’ve been barely holding in check throughout the cab ride.
It’s the first time I’ve seen the Northern Lights without Tav next to me, and I let out a sob so loud that it’s probably attracted the attention of every wolf and grizzly bear from here to Greenland.
Great. What am I going to do now?
I turn away from the lights and look up at the silent building again, like it might provide some clues about what to do when you’re stranded at an airport in minus-twenty degrees on what’s supposed to be the most
magical night of the year, and one thought obliterates all others.
I don’t want to go.
I wouldn’t want to go even if the airport was open.
I love the North Pole Forest more than I’ve ever loved any place before. I didn’t think it was possible to fall in love in a few short weeks, but I am – with the myth of Santa, letters from children, nisse, and reindeer.
And then there’s Tav … the thought of this being it, that image of him walking away this afternoon being the last time I ever see him …
A sob comes again and tears spill from my eyes. This is a huge mistake. Coming here has been the craziest, most spontaneous, ridiculous thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I’ve never enjoyed anything more. For the first time ever, I’ve woken up every morning excited for what the day will bring. I’ve looked forward to every moment. I’ve been happy. And the prospect of staying here, of actually living here and getting to continue sharing the magic of Christmas every day … It feels like something I’ve been waiting for my whole life.
What the hell am I thinking in wanting to give that up over a few words on a sheet of paper?
As I’m trying to figure out the best way to get back there, the sound of a car engine reaches my ears, getting louder, and I watch the road as a truck roars into view, shining red as it passes under every streetlamp.
The roads are gritted but the truck is going so slowly that I could walk faster, and it’s weaving enough to make it a good thing that the roads are deserted, because if they weren’t, they soon would be.
And it looks oddly familiar …
My heart jumps into my throat when I recognise the garland twinkling along the dashboard and the wreath hung on the front grille. It’s my dad’s truck from outside the house! He must’ve realised the airport would be closed and come to rescue me.
And given how carefully he’s driving, he is a case in point for re-testing elderly drivers because it doesn’t look like he can drive well enough to still have a licence and he clearly knows that.
The Post Box at the North Pole: The perfect cosy and uplifting Christmas romance to curl up with in 2021! Page 29
