Romantic Escapes. Julie Caplin

as a navigator.’

      ‘I wonder if it’s going to snow again,’ said Lucy looking up at the sky, which was the clearest it had been for a few days. The previous dump of snow had melted fast leaving the roads completely clear and it was a couple of degrees warmer. ‘The forecast for today is quite good. Allegedly there will be sunshine.’ She wasn’t convinced but Brynja had insisted on checking three different weather pages once she’d heard where Lucy was going.

      ‘Yeah, it’s supposed to brighten up later. You have dressed for every eventuality, haven’t you? The weather is very changeable.’

      He slid the car into gear and swung out of the car park onto the road.

      ‘So Hekla and Brynja keep telling me.’ Lucy laughed and leaned back in her chair adjusting the seat back. It felt good to be out of the hotel. ‘Hekla’s been fussing around me like a mother hen. Three layers. You need three layers. You can take layers off. Put layers on.’ She attempted to mimic Hekla’s accent. ‘And no jeans, they take too long to dry. Hence these rather attractive khaki numbers she forced Brynja to lend me.’ Despite the fact that Brynja was several inches shorter and a size bigger. However thick long woolly socks filled the missing inches above Lucy’s walking boots and she’d pushed them around her ankles leg warmer style so that she didn’t look completely ridiculous.

      ‘She said the same to me,’ said Alex, focusing on the road. ‘And my fleece was given her personal seal of approval.’

      ‘Well done, my waterproof wasn’t. It was snatched out of my hands with a spiel of heavy-duty Icelandic disapproval before she went rifling through the lost property box in the office to find this.’ Lucy held out the zipped edge of the sturdy navy Berghaus coat before wriggling out of it and stowing it at her feet. ‘She gives the same lecture to the guests at least once a day. I think she might be an undercover operator for Mountain Warehouse.’ Lucy looked down at her drab, sensible but practical clothing and remembered the recruitment consultant in her red suit. Home was a very long way away.

      ‘Neat theory, although it could be she wants to make sure everyone enjoys their time here. I’ve noticed she’s very passionate about her own country. There’s nothing worse than being cold and miserable.’

      Outside the car the heavy cloud cover made it difficult to believe the promised sunshine would materialise, it was still quite dark despite the sunrise at quarter to nine. The car’s headlights carved a strong beam tracking along the ribbon of mostly single-track road.

      ‘Tell me about it. It took me four years to get used to the weather in Manchester.’

      ‘You’d be fine in Edinburgh then.’

      ‘I’ve been a couple of times on business. I loved it. The company I wo… I went to a couple of conferences up there. The city is so dramatic, especially with the castle perched up high above the town.’

      ‘And wet and cold in the winter,’ said Alex. ‘So where do you come from originally?’

      ‘Portsmouth, although I can’t imagine ever going back there. I like living in the north.’

      ‘This far north?’

      ‘Hmm not sure that I could live here forever.’ Her spirits drooped. ‘My plan was to stick it out here for a least a year, before I knew the place is up for sale. Unfortunately,’ she held up a hand before he could comment on her stupidity, ‘I’m on a temporary contract.’ There was a silence when she thought he might have commented, so she carried on, ‘I thought it was a probationary precaution, now I realise it paves the way for any new owners to bring in their own team of people. And yes, feel free to tell me that was a dumb thing to do.’

      Alex didn’t say anything, he seemed to be focusing hard on the road.

      In the quiet of the car, with the engine humming, she brooded about the future. Reluctant to disturb Alex’s concentration, she stared out of the window at the endless black tarmac road lit up by the golden beam of the headlights.

      She could see the grey ribbon of road stretching ahead for miles, weaving its way through the virtually uninhabited landscape. As they drove along, houses were few and far between, although the sheep were plentiful and quite a few strayed dangerously close to the road. As they followed the signs towards Reykjavik, Lucy reflected that it seemed a long time since she’d first driven this way, her heart sinking at how far the lodge was from any town of any size.

      ‘I can’t believe I’ve been here nearly two weeks already.’

      ‘Time flies when you’re enjoying yourself,’ teased Alex.

      ‘Or working double shifts,’ she retorted. ‘I’m glad that the staff are all more settled and there’s been no more talk about flipping elves. Although I’m still wondering where the dead mice came from and what stopped them.’

      ‘You mean it wasn’t the magic unicorn?’ he asked with a quick raise of his eyebrows.

      ‘I never thanked you for that. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the “steals their magic”. It was inspired,’ she laughed.

      Alex smirked. ‘Not as inspired as the unicorn idea to start with.’ His face softened and he turned to her. ‘I owe you an apology actually. You handled it well. I’d have told them to stop with the nonsense if they wanted to be paid. I realise now that some people do take this elf stuff seriously.’

      ‘Mm,’ said Lucy, remembering his stern expression that morning and the disapproval he’d radiated. ‘I think you’ll find it was less inspiration and more desperation. My first day and I panicked. God knows what I’d have done if all the staff had walked out. Funny there hasn’t been a repeat of the anything like the “mices”. You haven’t heard of anything?’

      Alex shook his head. ‘No, it’s a bit of a mystery.’

      ‘Mystery? That’s a kind way of putting it. Pretty mean trick. Someone playing a joke that really wasn’t very funny. Let’s hope with the arrival of the film crew, they’ll keep their tricks to themselves.’

      They lapsed into thoughtful silence.

      ‘Do you want any music on?’ asked Alex, his hand straying to the radio.

      ‘Hmm, not sure. Apart from Björk, I don’t know any Icelandic music.’

      ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got a playlist on my phone.’

      ‘Could be interesting,’ said Lucy. ‘What sort of playlist is it?’

      Alex looked worried. ‘It’s just a playlist.’

      ‘Not a driving playlist, then.’

      ‘No,’ he said warily. ‘A playlist of tracks I like.’

      She pulled out her phone. ‘I have playlists for running, driving, cleaning.’

      ‘Cleaning? You have a cleaning playlist.’

      ‘Yes,’ said Lucy. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

      ‘Clearly not,’ said Alex. ‘Although it’s not something I think about that much. I do the bare minimum when I absolutely have to.’

      ‘Typical man.’

      ‘I prefer to call it an efficient time and motion approach. So, what’s on your driving playlist? Is it fit for human consumption?’

      ‘Of course. Don’t you trust me?’

      ‘No, you might be a closet Metallica fan.’

      Lucy pretended to think for a moment.

      ‘I might be.’

      ‘Are you?’

      Lucy giggled and stopped. She was rusty in that department. It was a long time since she’d felt like giggling. ‘I couldn’t name a single one of their tracks.’

      ‘No, you look more of a Take That type.’

      ‘And