The Northern Lights Lodge

by Julie Caplin

‘He’s definitely not a barman.’ Lucy almost spat the words out.

  ‘Who is this Quentin Oliver person?’

  ‘Famous hotelier. Owns some fantastic hotels in Europe and is about to open a new one.’

  ‘And Alex works for him?’ Worry lined her face.

  ‘From what the lovely Gretchen said, Alex, appears to be one of his right-hand men. A manager of a big five-star hotel in Paris.’

  ‘So why was he here?’

  Lucy raised an eyebrow at the question. ‘Probably inspecting everything for his boss.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Hekla. ‘But he’s so nice.’ She frowned looking unhappy and confused. ‘You did not know?’ She pulled an ancient folder down from the top shelf which she was now working her way through.

  ‘I most certainly did not know,’ said Lucy, her face grim. How stupid was she but it made sense now? He’d been doing exactly what she would have done if she was taking over an unknown quantity checking out the lie of the land. Reviewing the current staff and assessing their performance.

  ‘That is … not very fair. This new lady. She is taking over from you. No one told you?’

  Lucy shook her head, her throat suddenly too tight to speak.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Lucy lifted her chin, swallowing hard before she was able to speak. ‘Carry on working until Friday. And make tonight’s banquet happen. And where’s Olafur? I asked him to help you.’

  ‘He said he would help the electrician instead.’

  ‘But I’ve just seen the electrician with Brynja.’ Lucy frowned as a few bits of jigsaw slotted together in her head. ‘Do you have a number for Eyrun?’

  ‘Ja.’ Hekla nodded, her brow creasing in a frown.

  Lucy dialled Eyrun’s number, apologising for calling her at home when she answered.

  ‘Remember you told me that you’d had an email from the previous manager ordering you to put all the throws and cushions away.’

  ‘Ja.’ Eyrun laced the word with caution.

  ‘You can’t read. Someone must have read the email to you.’

  ‘Olafur. He read it to me,’ said Eyrun, suddenly more succinct.

  ‘I don’t suppose you kept the email,’ asked Lucy.

  ‘No, I never saw it. Olafur came to the laundry. He spoke to me. The next day the manager,’ she made a sound like pfft and then said, ‘he had left.’

  ‘Thanks, Eyrun. See you tomorrow.’

  Lucy frowned, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. The call confirmed her unwanted suspicions.

  The door opened. She and Hekla both whipped around to find Alex in the doorway.

  ‘What can I do to help?’ he asked, with his usual quiet sincerity.

  ‘I think you’ve probably done enough, thanks Alex.’ Lucy’s frosty dismissive tone brought a tiny smile to Hekla’s face.

  He rubbed at his forehead, with a wince. ‘I don’t suppose I can explain everything is going to cut it?’

  Why did he have to look so damn regretful? Why did he look as if he really cared?

  Half of Lucy wanted to hear him out, the other was too damn crushed.

  Caught in the middle, she lashed out, spitting, ‘What do you think?’

  And typical Alex he took it right on the chin. No ducking or denying.

  ‘I owe you an explanation and I made a mistake not telling you before.’ He stood in front of her not making any excuses or trying to deny it. Bastard. Being grown up and reasonable and honest about things. ‘But it was business. I couldn’t tell you.’

  Lucy wavered, looking at his earnest face, trying to ignore the hollowness in her chest. It was her own bloody fault. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? She should never have trusted him with her heart.

  Her phone pinged. The text was from Kristjan with an update. He didn’t have enough prawns to make a seafood salad.

  She glared at Alex. He knew how important it was for her to make tonight work, especially now flaming glamorous Gretchen was on the scene and the bloody film crew were lapping up the drama.

  ‘I don’t have time for this right now,’ said Lucy, pushing her shoulders back, swallowing back the huge lump in her throat. She was on her own. No one rescued her last time and no one would this time. She didn’t need anyone else. If it was the last thing she did, tonight would be a success.

  ‘You’re right,’ said Alex, ‘we need to sort out a rescue plan.’

  Hekla did the tennis match thing, her head swivelling from Alex to Lucy.

  ‘We?’ Lucy mustered as much disdain was as humanly possible. Lady Bracknell and her famous ‘handbag’ line couldn’t have done it better. ‘If I recall you are the barman. I am the manager. This is my problem. Not yours.’

  Alex swallowed and moved to stand right in front of her, putting a hand on her forearm.

  She felt the warmth of his skin with a pang.

  Those warm brown eyes met hers, sincere and direct. ‘I understand that you’re mad with me. I don’t blame you. You have every right.’ His hand squeezed her arm. ‘I should have told you‒’

  ‘Yes, you should,’ snapped Lucy, straightening and pulling away from him. She looked at her watch lifting her wrist right up in front of her face. ‘But as of right now I don’t care. I am still the manager and I have a banquet to organise.’

  Alex smiled, a touch of pride and admiration sweeping across his face.

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ she growled at him. Hekla’s saucer eyes widened even more.

  His eyes softened, the smile remaining in place which infuriated the hell out of her. ‘I know you can do it. You can do pretty much anything you set your mind to. Smart by name, smart by nature.’

  He didn’t get to be proud of her. Not when he’d gone behind her back. Not when he’d lied to her.

  ‘And keep that Gretchen bitch out of my hair.’ Ouch, had she really said that. ‘And stop bloody smirkling like an idiot.’ Damn why had she said that. It brought back the memory of the night in the laundry with a painful pang.

  ‘Yes boss. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Grrr.’ Oh God, she was doing it again, it reminded of her when she’d growled at the recruitment consultant. Except this time, she wasn’t going down without a fight.

  There was a startled silence. Hekla seemed to be finding her feet incredibly interesting all of a sudden and Alex was still sodding smiling at her. His gorgeous face sympathetic and supportive. Damn it. This was worse than before. It had all been a lie. Why hadn’t he told her who he was? Because he’d been spying on her all along. Playing a part.

  ‘I trusted you,’ she said in a low voice.

  At last his smile slipped. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you but…’

  She swallowed. Shit. No. She. Was. Not. Going. To. Cry. Not in front of him.

  The precarious pile of files on the desk suddenly shifted and like an avalanche gathering speed, the ring binders tipped off the edge clattering to the floor. Ducking to her knees, Lucy along with Hekla started gathering them up.

  ‘Make yourself useful. Help Hekla go through these and see if you can find any drawings.’

  Thrusting a ring binder hard into his chest, deriving considerable satisfaction from his strangled, ‘oof’, she escaped from the office, pulling the door firmly shut behind her.

  Out in the reception area on her own, she blew out a breath, reached up and tightened her pony tail. This girl meant business. She looked at her watch. Time was still ticking.

  She was going to have to make a decision very quickly. Even if Henrik found the fault, it didn’t sound as if he were completely confident that he could get the electricity back on. Shame about the generator.

  She frowned. Someone had made sure they’d fixed both the electricity and the generator. Someone who had a good reason to want to cause problems for the hotel. She walked into the bar, where there were already a few guests who’d returned from their day’s excursion. Thank goodness there was plenty of hot water, at least that wasn’t affected by the electricity. Th
ose sitting in the lounge didn’t seemed remotely bothered by the gentle light radiating from the motley collection of votives and the fierce glow of the fire, which had been banked right up so that it was throwing out plenty of heat.

  Dagur was busy distributing more tealights around the room filling every surface with votives, little dishes and sauces. He grinned at her.

  ‘By the time we’ve got all these little guys lit, it’s going to look cool in here. And I’ve got a ton of firewood ready, so it’s going to be cosy, cosy.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And the guests all seem to be mighty happy. Everyone loves a free drink.’

  ‘Mm, they do,’ said Lucy dryly, looking around with a quick burst of pride. They’d manage and somehow tonight would work out because she had a wonderful, supportive team on board, with one or two exceptions. ‘It looks great in here. Now all I have to worry about is the food.’

  Dagur shrugged. ‘Can’t help with that I’m afraid,’ he said before adding with a wink, ‘but if we get everyone drunk, maybe they won’t care.’

  ‘That’s plan C,’ said Lucy. Giving the room a last quick once over, she turned on her heel and headed to the kitchen to get an update from Kristjan.

  Thankfully she passed the film crew heading back up to the bar to ‘catch some atmosphere’ and when she arrived in the kitchen, Kristjan was poking at a piece of lamb with a scowl on his face.

  ‘How are you doing?’ asked Lucy.

  He let out a mournful sigh. ‘There isn’t enough. I don’t have enough sea food to make the salad stretch to sixty people,’ he said with an agitated shake of his head.

  ‘OK.’ She tilted her head. ‘What do you know about generators?’

  With a frown he put down his knife and turned to her. ‘How much do you want me to know?’

  ‘Do you know how to start one? How they work?’

  ‘Sure. I have worked in a place before where we had one for when the weather was bad. As long as you’ve got enough fuel to keep them going, there’s not too much that can go wrong.’

  ‘Excellent. Leave that and come with me. And bring the lamp. My phone is about to die.’ She’d been using the torch function to get around.

  He peeled off his apron and unhooked the lamp before grabbing his black fleece from a hook on the back of the little office. ‘Here, take this spare. It’s cold out there.’ He handed her an outsize ugly beige jacket

  When they reached the outhouse, it was in complete darkness. The last time she’d been here was with Alex … and she wasn’t going to think about him.

  To her immediate right, there were a couple of large petrol cans lined up in one corner of the room and she picked one up to check its weight and felt the liquid inside it sloshing about.

  ‘We have fuel.’ She lifted a couple more. ‘Plenty of it.’

  ‘That would last the night,’ said Kristjan knowledgeably as he moved towards the generator which sat in the centre of the room like a small tractor, holding the camping lantern high above it. Lucy moved behind him.

  ‘Do you know how to work it?’

  ‘I’m a farm boy, hell yes. We need to connect it to the supply here.’ He plugged something in, and Lucy was grateful that he knew what he was doing, then he turned a big black knob and flicked a switch, beaming at her as he then grasped a black handle and pulled hard. There was a whirring, rattling sound and then the generator flared into life, chugging away with a contented hum like some bovine electrical creature.

  Through the window, Lucy saw all the lights in the lodge blink into life.

  ‘Well, there’s a surprise,’ she said with her hands on her hips. ‘Doesn’t seem too broken to me.’

  ‘Who said it was?’ asked Kristjan flicking on the light in the shed and looking over the generator. ‘It works like a dream. And with that amount of fuel it will keep turning for a long time.’

  ‘Excellent,’ she said avoiding the question.

  With a big grin, he turned to her. ‘We’re cooking! I’d better get back to the kitchen.’ Kristjan almost skipped out of the shed and away back to the lodge.

  Lucy leaned against the wall of the building watching the generator noisily vibrating, her legs feeling a little weak. Phew, she’d done it.

  The disappointment gnawed at her. Knowing who the saboteur was brought no satisfaction, just a slightly sick feeling. It felt like a betrayal. Another one.

  With a heavy sigh, she let her head fall back against the wall. Bugger, bugger, bugger. She so hadn’t wanted it to be any of the staff she’d come to know over the last two months. The leaden disappointment left a sour taste in her mouth, although at least the electrical problem was well and truly solved. Now all she had to do was get through the rest of the evening without thinking about Alex or her job.

  Chapter 28

  She walked back into the office to a loud cheer. Hekla, Alex, Dagur, Brynja, Henrik and Olafur were all there.

  ‘The electricity is back,’ said Hekla with a beam.

  ‘The generator,’ said Lucy, shooting a glance at Olafur, who immediately coloured. ‘Seems it wasn’t broken after all.’

  Everyone began talking with the speed and volume of excited starlings chattering and there was that post-catastrophe semi-hysterical euphoria as everyone realised how close to disaster they’d been, as if they hadn’t dared think about how truly awful it would be if they hadn’t got the electricity back on in time for the banquet. Only Alex noticed the brief inter-change, probably because he was keeping a careful wary eye on her. Lucy had already decided her best strategy was to treat him like any other member of staff.

  Hekla clapped, ‘That is good news,’ while Olafur mumbled something into his beard.

  ‘But not so good,’ said Brynja with frustration, ‘because Henrik still can’t understand what is wrong.’

  ‘The generator will keep us going for this evening and I think the electricity might magically fix itself in the night,’ said Lucy. ‘You know like the huldufólk.’

  ‘But you don’t believe…’ Hekla’s voice trailed off as she intercepted the stern look Lucy sent Olafur’s way. Alex gave the other man a thoughtful look, although the others were all busy talking and missed it. Alex caught Lucy’s eye and raised a questioning eyebrow.

  She ignored him.

  ‘Right everybody, we’ve got a banquet to organise. It’s all hands-on deck. We need to move the furniture in the dining room and get all the tables laid up. We’ve lost a bit of time, but we should be OK.’

  Quickly she dished out a list of orders, allocating everyone but Olafur a job. For once she was going to have to leave them all to it and trust them to get the job done.

  ‘Olafur, if you could stay a moment.’

  Alex loitered at the back of the office.

  ‘Did you want something?’ Lucy asked pointedly,

  ‘I thought maybe I should stay,’ he said.

  Lucy held the silence for a beat before saying. ‘You thought wrong.’

  It hurt to say the cold words and to push him away. Hurt more as she realised that from now on, for the next few days, she was on her own. She hadn’t realised how much she’d come to rely on his quiet, steady support. Although it was no bloody wonder he had good instincts, as an experienced hotel manager, he knew the job inside out.

  The quick disappointed frown on his face, hardened her resolve. Tough shit. He’d lost any right to play supportive colleague or ‒ there was a hollowness in her stomach ‒ any other role. ‘But don’t you‒’

  ‘I don’t want or need anything further from you. I suggest you return to your waiting and bar duties. There’s an awful lot to be done in the dining room. I assure you, as the manager, I can handle this thank you,’ she said, rocking the snow queen impersonation even though the acid words gave her no pleasure, they just heightened her sense of misery. Lashing out at him underlined the anger bubbling inside and gave it fuel, making her even more mixed up and furious.

  She almost caved in when she saw the resigned, guilty look on his face as he realis
ed she meant it. With great reluctance he trudged out of the room, casting one last regretful look over his shoulder.

  She swallowed hard, her muscles stiffening. Confrontation was her least favourite thing.

  Waiting until he’d shut the door, she leaned against her desk, her arms folded and her legs crossed.

  ‘Well Olafur?’

  He shrugged, fiddling with the waistband of his jeans, tugging at the loops that held up his heavy leather belt. ‘The generator must be faulty.’

  ‘Did you really try it?’ asked Lucy very quietly, her demeanour calm although inside her stomach was churning over and over.

  Olafur stood in hesitant silence, his eyes not quite meeting hers as he carried on fidgeting with his clothes, his hand had graduated to pulling at the seam of his flannel shirt sleeve.

  ‘I think it would be really helpful if you fixed the electricity so that it’s back on this evening.’

  He shot her an uncertain look as if confused by her quiet, calm approach. She could almost see the mental perambulations of his mind, the torpid calculation of whether to lie or to come clean. Lucy had absolutely no doubt in her mind that Olafur was behind all the petty sabotage but she had absolutely no proof. In HR terms, she didn’t have a leg to stand on.

  ‘I know that this farm belonged to your family. You must have spent a lot of time here growing up.’

  The gentle observation drew a fleeting flicker of surprise, his eyes widening briefly.

  ‘I’m pretty sure someone with a thorough knowledge of this building, like you, will know where the source of the problem is,’ she said wishing he’d make life easier and help himself by admitting it and agreeing to put things right.

  Olafur stared at her, his lips moving as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t quite bring himself to.

  ‘Come on Olafur. I know it was you.’ She leaned forward fixing her gaze on him, speaking with more confidence than she felt. Know was putting it a little bit strongly but Sherlock Holmes had never got very far by pussyfooting around. ‘At the moment, no one else has worked it out … yet. When they do…’ She left a helpful pause, not letting up on her direct scrutiny of him. ‘Don’t you think everyone is going to be disappointed when they find out it was you? And how are you going to cope when it gets out? Everyone knows everyone. The story will spread. It will be hard to get another job. And there’ll be whispers. Always. Behind your back. To your face. This is a small community.’ She gave a small mirthless smile. ‘I promise you, I know how awful it is, everyone talking behind your back, sniggering on your account.’ Her bitterness coloured the words with added vehemence.