Calling Mrs Christmas

by Carole Matthews

  We touch down on a runway covered with snow and ice and I wonder why Heathrow has to close when there are more than three snowflakes on the ground. Kiruna Airport is so tiny that the plane pulls up right next to the terminal building. A blacked-out 4x4 vehicle comes alongside us and I can see our cases being taken to the boot. A moment later we’re escorted to the vehicle too. No immigration, no passports. This is Lapland and we’re in.

  Jan Bergson, a big, blond bear of a man who’s going to be our guide for the next few days, is already waiting for us. He clasps our hands warmly and says, ‘Welcome to Swedish Lapland.’

  The children stare up at him in awe of his size.

  I’ve organised this trip through his company and, as VIP guests, we’re going to get his personal attention while we’re here. As soon as we’re on board, the car sweeps out of the airport and whisks us through the town of Kiruna to our first stop.

  We drive for twenty minutes, the pretty wooden houses that line the road gradually thinning out until we’re surrounded by nothing but trees. They’re heavy with snow and look more like modern sculptures than firs. The sky is clear, bright and filled with a million stars.

  The children have their faces pressed up against the windows of the car. ‘This is so pretty,’ Eve breathes.

  ‘Awesome,’ Max agrees. ‘Daddy, why do we never have this much snow at home? It’s cool.’

  ‘Sure is, buddy.’ Carter turns and grins at me. ‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘This was a great idea.’

  Moments later, we come to the Mushers’ Lodge, which is the headquarters of Jan’s business, and we all pile out of the car. Even though it’s late, gone nine now, we’re heading straight out again tonight to the wilderness lodge that I’ve booked. But before we leave, there’s a little surprise for us all.

  The Mushers’ Lodge is picturesque, painted mustard-yellow, and next to it is a yard full of fluffy and very bouncy huskies. When they see us they all start barking madly.

  Max is first to spot the long, low sledge all ready and waiting. He’s wide-eyed with excitement. ‘Is that for us?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘But first we’ve got to put on some warmer clothing.’

  We’re already wrapped up in our ski gear, but the temperature is dropping rapidly. When you breathe in, you can feel even the hairs inside your nostrils freeze. The last thing that I want is the children getting cold. If I take them both back frozen in blocks of ice, I’m sure Tamara will have something to say.

  In the warmth of the Lodge, Jan issues us with Arctic clothing. First we get brightly coloured overalls that are so well padded we can hardly move. On top of that we’re issued with boots with thick thermal linings, overgloves, balaclavas that make us look like a motley crew of bank robbers, and fur-trapper hats. By the time we’re kitted up and go back outside, the huskies have been tied to the sled and they’re raring to go. There must be twelve of them or more, jumping at their harnesses and barking so loudly that we can hardly hear ourselves think. It’s clear that they don’t want to be hanging around. They want to be off and running.

  ‘This is a great idea,’ Carter says as he climbs aboard the sled, which is covered with reindeer skins. Max nestles down in front of him. Then I slide in front of Max with Eve tucked between my knees.

  ‘I won’t be able to see properly,’ Max says. ‘Can I go in front of Cassie with Eve?’

  It’s true that he probably has a great view of my back. Hadn’t thought that one through.

  ‘Yes,’ Carter says. ‘But you must hold on very tightly because we’ll be going really fast.’

  ‘Really fast?’ Max is beaming widely.

  So we all shift around while the dogs bark their impatience. By default, I have to be the one to sit in front of Carter so I slot myself in between his legs. He wraps his arms around me and holds on.

  ‘Settle back,’ Carter says. ‘I don’t want you falling off.’

  Our bodies mould together and, suddenly, I feel very hot in this Arctic suit. Trying to ignore how close we are, in turn I wrap my arms round Eve and she clings on to Max.

  Jan is on the back of the sled, huge fur gloves in place. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Ready!’ we all shout.

  The dogs go into a total frenzy and, with one whispered word from Jan, they shoot off in the style of Usain Bolt out of the starting blocks while we hang on for dear life. The children are shrieking with joy.

  The moon is big and low in the sky as we whip through the trees, taking the bends at an alarming rate. But soon the dogs calm down and settle into their stride. The only sound is the whooshing of the sled over the snow. Though it’s night-time, the full moon reflecting on the snow makes it seem so bright. The track is narrow through the trees, and overhanging branches shower us with powder snow as we pass. The children giggle with delight. I’m so glad that Jan suggested it when I called him as it really is the most magical way to arrive at our lodge.

  Carter squeezes my waist. I turn round to look at him and he’s grinning just as much as the kids. If I can make the man who has everything happy, then I must have done something right.

  Our speed drops slightly. Now the track is lined with open oil lamps. Their golden flames light our way. Jan slows the dogs further and soon we come to a clearing in the trees. In front of us is our wilderness lodge, home for the next two nights. It’s a long, low building made of wood hunkered down in among the firs. The roof is piled high with snow and spectacular, shimmering icicles hang from the eaves halfway down to the ground. A few steps lead up to a wide front porch, which sports a hot tub and a selection of rustic, hand-carved furniture. Bathed in moonlight with the stars twinkling above us, it couldn’t look more beautiful and I’m so relieved.

  Carter and I help the children to disembark from the sled. The breath of the panting dogs is rising in front of us in a cloud of steam. Some of them stretch out in the snow to cool down. We’re miles from anywhere, right in the middle of a forest of fir trees heavy with snow. I can’t see any other signs of life. Remote I asked for. Remote I’ve certainly got.

  ‘You could help me with the dogs,’ Jan says to Eve and Max. ‘They like a fuss now and they all need to go in their kennels for the night.’

  At one side of the clearing, among the trees, there are individual kennels for each of the dogs, their roofs a foot deep in snow.

  ‘Can we, Daddy?’ Max asks.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘If you want to do that with the children, I’ll check the lodge,’ I suggest.

  ‘Yes, Daddy,’ Eve urges. ‘Do help us.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ he says and he heads off with the children while Jan shows them how to handle the dogs, removing their harnesses and securing them in their kennels.

  The dogs, less boisterous after their run, are compliant and affectionate, and the children are in their element. Smiling, I stand and watch them all petting the dogs. With all the to-ing and fro-ing the kids do between houses and school, I think that it’s unlikely that they’ve ever had a dog before but they’ve taken to this like ducks to water. Carter is just as enthusiastic and it’s nice to see them all having fun together.

  So far, so good. I breathe a little sigh of relief. Then I go inside the lodge, keeping my fingers crossed that it’s all I hoped for from the pictures in the online brochure.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The wilderness lodge interior doesn’t disappoint and a tiny bit more of me relaxes.

  It’s very rustic, all pine and traditional Swedish furnishings. The whole of the downstairs is open plan, the living, dining and kitchen areas all merging into one. There’s a huge log-burning stove in the living area with a roaring fire in it already, making the place cosy and warm. Next to it is an alcove entirely filled with a stock of cut logs, which should keep us going for a while. It’s flanked by two brown-leather sofas, furnished with snuggly knitted throws in pale blue and piled high with cushions in blue and white embroidery.

  There’s no electricity here at all and the room is lit onl
y by the fire and the glow of candlelight. It looks so romantic and, for the first time this evening, I get a pang of longing for Jim. I’ve been so taken up with the excitement, so worried about getting here and it all being wonderful for Carter and the children, that I haven’t given a moment’s thought to what’s happening at home. Now I miss him desperately. He’d so love it here.

  I shrug out of my Arctic suit and kick off my boots – both of which are easier said than done. There’s a row of pegs fixed along the wall by the fire where we can dry and warm our clothes, which is where I hang up my suit. Already, I feel as if I’ve slipped seamlessly into the time-consuming rhythm of dressing to face the extreme cold.

  We’ve just got two nights here before we move on to the famous Icehotel for one night. As well as lighting the fire, someone has been into the kitchen and left us a home-made cake, a jar of hot chocolate, a dish of whipped cream and a bowl brimming with tiny white marshmallows. I know what my first job will be. As there’s no electricity and therefore no fridge, there are two ice buckets on the side – one filled with cartons of milk and one holding champagne and white wine, with a good stock of red wine in a rack next to it. A cook is coming in to prepare most of our meals, so we should have everything we need for our stay.

  Just off the living area are three spacious bedrooms. The children will share one and Carter and I will take the others. I check them out and find that they’re simply furnished too, with warm rugs on the floor and colourful paintings on the walls. The beds have plain white duvets and are piled high with blue-gingham pillows. All very tasteful. Our cases are already here – I have no idea how – and, strangely, they’re even in the rooms I would have chosen for each of us. Perhaps my lack of designer luggage has, quite rightly, ensured I get the smallest of the rooms. The children have a larger room with twin beds and Carter has the main suite with its enormous king-size bed all to himself. There may be no electricity but there is, thankfully, plumbing and we have two beautifully furnished wetrooms between us. I’m sure we’ll be more than comfortable here and I feel myself breathing more easily. I think I’ve done a good job in finding this place and I hope that Carter can’t fail to fall in love with it.

  Then I hear the stamping of boots in the porch and it’s time to get the hot chocolate going on the stove. The children barrel inside and I help them to clamber out of their Arctic suits and boots. They leave drifts of powdered snow on the floor, which instantly melt in the heat and turn to puddles.

  ‘That was great fun, wasn’t it, kids?’ Carter peels off his own suit and I go to give him a hand as he struggles. I tug at his sleeves as he shrugs it off.

  ‘It was brilliant!’ they say together. ‘Thank you, Cassie.’

  ‘Go and have a look at your bedrooms,’ I tell them, ‘and then we’ll have hot chocolate and cake before bedtime.’

  While I hang up their clothes and mop up the puddles, Carter is taking in the lodge. He spots the chilled champagne and wine in the ice bucket. ‘I’d rather have a glass of fizz,’ he says. ‘Will you join me?’

  ‘That sounds nice.’

  He opens the champagne, finds glasses and pours it. ‘I don’t know what I’m celebrating, but I feel I should propose a toast.’ He hands me a glass. ‘To us,’ he says. ‘To this trip. Let it be fantastic.’ Carter chinks his glass against mine.

  The bubbles sparkle in the soft candlelight. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

  We pause to take a welcome sip. Then, while Carter roams around the lodge, I fire up the stove and get a pan of milk going. This is fantastic, just like playing house.

  Carter flicks out his phone. ‘No signal?’

  ‘That’s the only bad news. I hope.’ I grimace. ‘No phone signal. No wi-fi. Just total wilderness.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You’ll be unavailable for three whole days,’ I tell him. ‘But I made sure that I let Georgina know and asked her to warn your office.’

  ‘I’m sure they can manage without me,’ he laughs, ‘but I’m not so sure I can manage without them!’

  ‘You said that you wanted quality time with your children,’ I remind him. ‘Now you can focus just on Max and Eve.’

  ‘Sounds like an excellent plan.’ He lets out a contented sigh. ‘This is more than I could have hoped for. Thank you, Cassie Christmas.’

  ‘All part of the service.’ I’ve suddenly gone shy. He’s right, though. I think I have done well.

  Carter doesn’t take his eyes off me as he drinks. ‘I said I’d call Tamara to let her know that we’d arrived safely.’

  ‘No can do.’

  He gives a nervous laugh. ‘Oh, my word. She’ll be furious.’

  ‘Georgina will tell her that we’re out of contact, I’m sure.’

  I think of Tamara’s tear-filled eyes at the airport. Perhaps it will do her good not to have Carter at her beck and call. But that makes me remember that if Carter can’t call Tamara, then I can’t contact Jim either. We’re here in our own little bubble for a few days whether we like it or not. And, I hate to admit this, I think I’m going to like it a lot.

  Having bagged their beds, the children come out and I give them hot chocolate laced with cream and marshmallows. We all have a big slice of cake. Perhaps feeding them with sugar before bedtime isn’t the best thing to do, but I’m guessing that they’re so hyperactive they won’t be sleeping much anyway. We all sit in front of the roaring fire, huddled together on the squashy sofa, mesmerised by the shifting flames.

  Once we’ve eaten, they both grow quiet and I catch Eve’s eyes struggling to stay open. I’m not sure what my role is here. Is it my place to tell the children when they should go to bed? Instead, I touch Carter’s arm and whisper, ‘I think the children are tired.’

  He glances across at them. ‘Come on, guys. Bed.’

  ‘Aw, Daddy,’ they yawn in unison. ‘Just a bit longer.’

  ‘You don’t want to be too tired for tomorrow’s activities, do you?’ Carter turns back to me. ‘What exactly are we doing tomorrow?’

  ‘Just you wait and see,’ I say enigmatically. ‘We’ve got a very full day.’

  ‘A very full day,’ Carter echoes, teasing. ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t waste a minute. I’d go to sleep just as fast as I could!’

  They dash off to their bedroom and Carter follows. I top up his glass as I hear him helping them to get undressed and tucking them into bed. How I’d love to be doing that for my own children one day. I listen to him murmuring endearments as he kisses them. Then he calls me. ‘Cassie. The children would like you to say goodnight to them too.’

  So I go into the bedroom, see them snuggled down in their beds and my heart melts. I kiss their cheeks and tuck Eve’s wayward hair behind her ear. They remind me so much of my lovely niece and nephew. ‘Goodnight, both of you. See you in the morning.’

  ‘I love you,’ Carter tells them. ‘Sweet dreams and tomorrow we’ll have lots of fun.’

  I blow them another kiss and leave their dad to fuss with their duvets again, making sure that they’re snuggly warm and covered up to their necks. They’re so small, so innocent, and I feel a protective surge towards them. Emotionally, it must be a rough time for them and so horrible to see their parents’ marriage torn apart. We like to think that children are immune to the crises of adults, but I know from bitter experience that they’re not. And I wonder, was it better not to know my father at all, rather than watch my parents locked in a bitter fight? While I’m here, I know that I’ll do my very best to look after these children and make sure that they have a great time.

  Seconds later, Carter’s back in the living room. ‘I’ll leave the door open,’ he says to Max and Eve over his shoulder, ‘so that you can see the fire flickering.’

  ‘Night night, Daddy,’ they both shout. ‘Night night, Cassie.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ I call out and find that there’s a lump in my throat.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The fire casts a warm glow over the room and shadows dance acros
s the ceiling. Outside the lodge, there’s no sound at all and even the silence seems deep, muffled by the snow. Carter comes to sit down next to me. I pull the cuddly throw around me.

  ‘Cold?’ he asks. ‘I could put another log in the burner.’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Just snuggling down.’

  ‘Excellent plan. Room for me?’ He slides under the throw himself, then lifts his replenished glass and says, ‘Cheers.’ He drinks deeply, then lets out a lingering and heartfelt sigh.

  I smile at him. ‘That bad?’ His face looks softer, less careworn in the firelight.

  ‘It seems like months since I’ve stepped off the work treadmill. Sometimes I wonder why I do it.’ He lowers his voice to a whisper so as not to disturb the children and angles his body towards mine. I lean in closer so that I hear him better. ‘When I’m with the kids like this, I regret that I’m hardly ever around to see them. That’s one thing that Tamara is right about. Neither of us dedicates enough time to them and that’s all they really want. This is all just top-dressing.’ He raises a rueful eyebrow. ‘The kids have had it really hard. We like to pretend that they’re not affected by our divorce, but I know that underneath they’re struggling with it.’