The Northern Lights Lodge. Julie Caplin

went straight through to voicemail and this time she listened with growing despair to the message in a stream of what she assumed was Icelandic, a volley of harsh syllables and guttural sounds.

      Taking a deep breath and hoping she didn’t sound too panicky she spoke. ‘Hi, this is Lucy Smart from the UK. It’s eleven o’clock and I’ve arrived, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone here.’ She’d sent an email with her date of arrival and had received one back in confirmation from someone called Hekla Gunnesdóttir. Her hand shook, her grip so tight on the phone. ‘I wonder if you could give me a call back,’ she asked with restrained politeness when what she really wanted to say was, ‘Where the fuck is everyone?’

      Of course, she was polite, she thought grimly, she was going to have to work with these people. Making a good impression was imperative. More than a good impression, she needed them to keep her on after the two months. She had to survive at least a year here to make her CV viable again. Besides, she had nowhere else to go.

      Ten minutes later after anxiously watching her phone as she paced up and down to keep warm, the battery died. The rain had stopped which was little consolation as she considered her options, all of which seemed in short supply. One; walk down the road and see if she could find any kind of settlement nearby despite the complete absence of any lights in the near vicinity, two; stay put and hope that someone had listened to her message or three; break in.

      Scudding clouds streamed across the night sky, periodically revealing pockets of a star laden universe. The number of the pinprick lights was astonishing. No light pollution here. Lucy had never seen so many stars and in one brief break in the clouds thought she might have seen a shooting star, although she was so cold, she also might have been starting to hallucinate.

      Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark and the cold had numbed her fingers and toes, she decided to circle the building. Maybe she’d find an unlocked door. With a shiver she walked along the front of the building. How long did she wait before she picked up a stone and broke one of those amazing floor-to-ceiling windows?

      As she rounded the corner of the hotel, the ground level started to fall away quite steeply and she stumbled as her ankles felt the sharpness of the sudden decline but she could however see a faint glow as if there was a light on around the next corner.

      Carefully she began to pick her way down the steep slope, slipping and sliding on loose scree. Each crunch and skitter of stone echoed noisily making her jumpy and disorientated. Every now and then she paused and thought she could hear water lapping but the sound bounced around in the darkness and she couldn’t quite determine where it was coming from. Cocking her head to one side, she listened carefully and took another few steps forward. Ah, wood. She was on some sort of decking and then she stepped into thin air.

      As she stumbled forward, arms flailing like spokes on a spinning bicycle wheel, she registered the glint of water and tensed for the cold as she pitched in face first.

      If it weren’t for the weight of her clothes and the unexpected shock of falling headfirst into shoulder deep water, the warm, no, piping hot, water, might have been quite pleasant, except for the rush of water up her nose and swallowing a great mouthful. Yeuch, Lucy shoved her head up to the surface spluttering and gagging. That was disgusting. Her head felt even colder in contrast to the cosy cocoon from the neck downwards. The heat flooded Lucy’s fingers and ears with sharp pain, like pins and needles, as a flashlight came bobbing around the corner and tracked its way across the stony ground to land full on her face.

      ‘No using the hot springs after nine p.m.,’ called a deep voice, brimming with amusement as the light came closer and closer. Lucy muttered to herself, ‘Kill me now,’ feeling at a distinct disadvantage under the nearing dancing spotlight.

      Her sodden parka had wrapped itself around her like a duvet weighted with rocks, her ankle boots were almost floating away with each step and her jeans had a stranglehold on her legs as she floundered towards the edge.

      ‘Here, there are steps,’ said a second singsong voice with a musical up and down inflection, using the torch to guide her along the wooden edge towards a set of steps that rose up out of the water.

      Lucy put her shoulders back and waded through the water towards the wooden handrail with as much dignity as she could muster given she was close to tears.

      Lights suddenly came on illuminating the whole area. She was in the equivalent of a small swimming-pool sized hot tub surrounded by wooden decking, with two sets of steps descending into the water. Above her on the side were two figures, wrapped up against the cold night air.

      ‘Are you alright?’ asked the taller of the two, crossing quickly and holding out a hand, stepping forward to grasp her arm and help her counter balance the weight of her ten-ton coat.

      Kind eyes, thought Lucy as she caught a glimpse of concerned brown eyes above a tartan woollen scarf while she let him haul her up the steps.

      ‘Let’s get you inside quickly before you start to chill down. That heat isn’t going to last long.’ Kind voice too. The slight Scottish burr was soft and gentle, a rather wonderful contrast to his firm and decisive hold as he pulled her forward and steered her off the decking.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, subtly shaking off his grasp, even though for some contrary reason she didn’t want to. Kindness had been in short supply in her world for a while. ‘I’m fine,’ she added, with more of a sharp bite to her voice. After everything she’d been through this year, she was never taking anything at face value again. Kind was as kind did or whatever the phrase was.

      ‘I’m Alex.’ The man’s hand still hovered by her side as if ready to catch her. ‘And this is Hekla. I’m so sorry there was no one to check you in. We weren’t expecting any guests today.’

      ‘No. It is most strange. Did you have a booking?’ asked Hekla, in her glorious musical voice.

      ‘I’m not a guest. I’m…’ Lucy swallowed. No crying. Dripping from head to toe had put her at enough of a disadvantage as it was. ‘I’m the new manager, Lucy Smart.’ Automatically she lifted a business-like hand and then dropped it quickly as she realised how ridiculous it must look, with water dripping from her sleeves.

      ‘Oh!’ The girl’s voice echoed with surprise. ‘But you are not expected until next week.’

      ‘Everything was confirmed by email,’ said Lucy, her words quick and sharp with sudden panic, not wanting them to think she was disorganised or all over the place.

      ‘But we had a phone call yesterday saying your plans had changed and you would be coming next week.’

      ‘Well that wasn’t me,’ said Lucy.

      ‘Must be the huldufólk making trouble,’ said Hekla with a straight face, nodding. ‘But you’re here now and we’d better get you inside, quickly,’ she paused and then added with a mischievous twinkle that once upon a time Lucy might have been charmed by, ‘it is usually best to wait until daylight before using the hot springs.’

      ‘I’ve been waiting to get inside for the last half hour,’ muttered Lucy, wincing as her feet splish-sploshed on the wooden decking, the water squelching out of her favourite boots and great clouds of steam rising from her sodden clothing. Just bloody marvellous. These people were clearly her new colleagues. So much for making a good impression from the start.

      ‘But the door is open,’ said Hekla. ‘It’s always open.’ Her stalwart, sure declaration made Lucy feel doubly stupid. The door had definitely been locked. Hadn’t it? She was sure. She’d tried everything.

      ‘Well it wasn’t today,’ snarled Lucy in a heartfelt undertone. ‘Why else would I would be wandering around in the dark, trying to find my way in?’ The door had definitely been locked. Her sharp rebuttal was ruined when she slipped on the decking. She pinched her lips and ducked her head as if concentrating on her footing feeling unaccountably tearful all of a sudden.

      ‘Hey, let me give you a hand,’ Alex’s voice lowered, his tone gentle. She jerked her eyeline to meet his.