All the Romance You Need This Christmas: 5-Book Festive Collection. Romy Sommer
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sure Primark’s hit Lapland yet, Jess.’
‘Yeah, you’re funny, Matthew.’
He pulled me into his arms for a hug, sighing. ‘If you’re sure, Sis. But I hate leaving you on your own.’
‘It’s my choice, Matt. Come on, stop looking at me like that, will you? I’ll be fine. I’m forty-two years old, I’m not some child who needs looking after – despite what Mum says. Okay?’
He smiled, giving me one last hug. ‘Yeah. Okay. But if Mum asks, I did everything I could to make you come with us. Alright?’
I couldn’t help laughing. It was obvious Mum had given Matt strict instructions to keep an eye on me, which was fine. It was nothing I hadn’t expected because, despite our ages, we were quite clearly always going to be kids to our parents. But her concern was totally unnecessary. As was Matt’s. ‘Go on. Get out there and enjoy yourself. I really will be fine. In fact, I’m looking forward to exploring the place. It’s got a good feel about it.’
‘Look, meet us for drinks later, okay? There’s an après-ski bar – The Ice Tree – at the bottom of the slopes, just by the back of the spa. I’ll give you a call when we’re done and I’ll buy you a beer. How does that sound?’
‘That sounds great,’ I smiled, almost pushing him out the door. ‘Now get out of here. I’ll see you later.’
I closed the door and walked back into the room, crouching down beside my half-unpacked suitcase, reaching into a side compartment and pulling out a framed photograph – of Jase and me, at Glastonbury a few years ago. It was a photo I loved because we both looked so happy, and we had been. Incredibly so. I remembered everything about that trip, every conversation we’d had, every band we’d seen, every song we’d sung along to. Since he’d been gone I’d made it my mission to remember it all, letting no memory become blurred or weak or fade into the background. Especially now, at Christmas. A time when those no longer here were probably missed more than at any other time of the year, and for me it was a time when I missed Jase more than I could ever explain to anyone.
I stood the photograph up on the bedside table and pulled myself back up, eyeing the pile of clothes stacked neatly on the floor – the padded jacket, the snow trousers; the pair of pink boots I’d bought on the spur of the moment on a shopping trip to Newcastle just before we’d flown out here. I might not be donning the salopettes and ski boots today, but this was Lapland, and the last time I’d checked the temperature outside it was hitting -25 degrees, so if I was even thinking about leaving this hotel then those layers had to go on. Pushing a hand through my hair, I leant over to pick up my clothes, and proceeded to get ready for my day of exploring my temporary new home.
*
It didn’t take long to walk into the small and compact resort, which was just across the road from our hotel. But even before I’d hit the main town centre it felt like I was being thrust into a Christmas wonderland, with huge pine trees strewn with fairy lights on almost every corner, and a multitude of decorations strung up outside every building, giving nobody any excuse not to realise what time of year it was. From reindeers to Santa Claus, singing angels to beautifully elaborate nativity scenes – walking along the snow-covered streets that wound their way through the maze of restaurants, bars and shops felt like escaping into a Christmas you only ever really saw in movies or on TV, and it was making me feel something I hadn’t felt in such a long time. It was making me feel that maybe I could enjoy Christmas again, if I let myself. Even if Jase wasn’t here to share all of it with me. Because this kind of Christmas was something else, made all the more magical by the beautiful, rose-coloured sky that was giving out a kind of surreal half-light against the barrage of decorations and fairy lights that lit up the resort.
With only an average of about three hours’ sunlight a day at this time of year in the Arctic Circle, spending most of the time in darkness was the weirdest thing to get used to, but I also knew that there were days when the sun didn’t rise at all, creating this half-light effect which, I had to admit, was quite stunning to witness.
As I reached the main plaza in the heart of the town centre, I stopped by one of the huge Christmas trees with its array of blue and white lights already twinkling in that strange half-light, and felt inside my jacket to retrieve my camera, quickly capturing a few shots before hurriedly sliding the camera back inside my jacket pocket before it froze. And although it was -25 degrees, I actually felt quite cosy wrapped up in my abundance of layers. But, having taken off a glove for a matter of seconds in order to take the photographs, I knew that without the layers it would be a very different story.
Overhead, the sky was the most incredible colour – a mixture of pink and orange streaks and, even though it wasn’t even lunchtime yet, I could see it wouldn’t be long before the early dusk arrived and this beautiful little place was bathed in that daytime darkness once again. This was so, so different to anything I’d ever experienced. I’d never seen anything like it and I actually found it quite mesmerising, just standing there, looking up at the sky, watching as it changed before my eyes, creating layer upon layer of colours from orange to pink to brown.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’
I spun round to see a tall young man standing beside me, dressed all in black from his hat to his snow boots. Where had he come from? I hadn’t even heard him walk up alongside me. Maybe I’d just been too deep in thought. And my hat was pulled right down over my ears so it probably wasn’t a complete surprise that I hadn’t heard him arrive.
‘Yes. Yes, it’s really beautiful,’ I said, watching him as he gazed up at the rapidly darkening sky, the colours deepening but still swirling around over our heads.
‘If you think this is something, then you should see the Northern Lights – Aurora Borealis…’ He stopped staring at the sky and looked directly at me, which took me slightly by surprise because I’d kind of been staring at him. He didn’t seem to mind, though. ‘Have you ever seen them?’
‘Erm, sorry… have I ever seen what?’ The sudden appearance of this stranger had unsettled me slightly. One thing I certainly wasn’t used to was being approached by attractive young men wanting to strike up a conversation. But something – I didn’t know what, exactly – was telling me he was okay. I had nothing to worry about.
‘The Northern Lights,’ he replied, smiling at me, and I had to turn away for a second. I’d been knocked for six somewhat and I just needed a moment to pull myself together.
‘No. No, I haven’t seen them,’ I said, turning back to look at him, taking in his handsome face with the beautiful smile, deep, dark eyes and perfect skin. He had a really lovely accent too. I wondered if he was a local. Maybe he was a ski instructor or something. Oh God, I hope he wasn’t trying to drum up business, because one place I really wasn’t in a hurry to be was on a pair of skis. I’d seen people outside the hotel trying to walk around in those ski boots and the majority of them looked as though they had a bad case of piles, which led me to think they obviously weren’t the easiest or most comfortable of things to wear. And that was before you even added the skis to the bottom of them. No, he was going to be bitterly disappointed if he was hoping for me to become a new pupil. I didn’t care how good-looking he was.
‘Would you like to?’ he asked, still looking at me with those intense eyes of his. He had one hell of a stare on him but the strange thing was, he wasn’t making me feel in the least bit uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, in fact.
‘Yes,’ I replied, unable to take my eyes off him, even though it felt a touch weird to be here in the middle of this magical little Christmas village staring at this stranger who’d seemed to appear out of nowhere. ‘Yes, I would.’
‘I think you should,’ he said, nodding slowly as he lifted his eyes skywards again, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black jacket.
I wanted to ask why – why he thought I should – but, for some reason, I couldn’t seem to get the words out.
‘My name is Mikku,’ he went on, bringing his gaze once more back on me.