‘Is she enjoying herself?’
‘I haven’t heard from her,’ Jim admitted. ‘It’s very remote up there. And cold. Minus twenty-five last night.’
‘Should be called Coldasfuckland,’ Rozzer suggested.
‘Language,’ Jim said.
Cassie was a hothouse flower and she’d be really hating it if it was that cold. ‘She probably can’t get a phone signal.’
‘No phone?’ Neither of them looked impressed by that either. It clearly wasn’t going to feature highly on their Places to Visit list when they did get out.
At the flat, he made the lads a quick sandwich, then they changed out of their prison tracksuits into their jeans and T-shirts while Jim had a much needed hot shower, resisting the urge to scrub himself down with the nailbrush. Some days he wished he could be anywhere but at the unit.
He loaded up the car with the help of the lads and in the darkness made their way up to Randall Court. The elderly lady let them into the house this time and Jim assumed that Carter’s personal assistant had already gone home.
It was stunning, coming back into the house the next day and seeing their handiwork. The lights on the tree were filling the room with a festive glow, and, even to Jim, who was hardly an aficionado of interior design, it looked quite breathtaking. He was sure that the lads actually gasped. Pretty impressive.
‘Right,’ Jim said. ‘Shall I take the vases while you start on the trees in the children’s bedrooms?’
‘The kids are having their own trees?’ Even Rozzer, who’d had a much more middle-class upbringing than Smudge, was amazed by this.
‘Trees and a bit of bunting,’ Jim said after consulting Cassie’s list. Thankfully, she’d done a design for each of the trees too. ‘Shouldn’t take us long. I’ll come up with you and get you started. We need to cover our trainers.’ He didn’t want anyone leaving a grubby footprint on that pristine cream carpet.
With their feet encased in blue plastic slip-on covers that Cassie had bought, they made their way up the grand staircase, pleased to admire their garland winding its way up alongside them.
‘It looks well nice, doesn’t it?’ Smudge whispered.
‘Yes.’ Jim beamed at him. ‘It does, lad. All credit to you.’
Their chests puffed up with pride. He knew that he’d been right about these two all along. You could feel it in your bones when lads were intrinsically good underneath. They just needed guiding back onto the right path, that was all.
First they went into the little girl’s bedroom, a froth of girly pink. Jim felt a lump in his throat. He wondered if, one day, he’d have a daughter sleeping in a room like this. He could only hope so. If Cassie made enough money from this Christmas, then maybe they could start to try for a family. If they got a move on, he could even be a daddy by next Christmas. The thought nearly had him undone.
Jim took in the room again. The only difference with this particular little girl’s bedroom was that it was accessorised with all the latest technology. There was an iPod, a flat-screen television and an Apple Mac at a hand-painted desk near the window. And, of course, an Xbox too.
‘Wow,’ Smudge said. ‘Kids have this sort of stuff?’
‘Not all of them,’ Jim observed. ‘Just a lucky few.’ He checked Cassie’s notes again. ‘White tree, pink baubles, lilac bows.’ Thankfully, they were artificial trees up here. He wouldn’t have liked to try to get real ones up that cream carpet without dropping needles.
‘I might have to make a few more bows,’ Rozzer said.
Jim smiled to himself, thinking that was probably a sentence that Rozzer had never expected to hear himself utter. Who’d have thought that the lads would have been capable of such delicate work? Who’d have thought that he was capable of it himself?
‘Can I leave you to it? The young boy’s room needs doing too. That’s next door. Want to take one each?’
‘We’ll work on this together,’ Rozzer said. ‘Then move on to the other one.’
‘I’ll do the vases,’ Jim said, surprisingly eager to test out his finer flower-arranging skills.
But that would have to wait for a minute. First, he had to return a call from Vincent.
It was gone eight o’clock when they’d all finished. Jim went upstairs to inspect the trees that the lads had decorated. They’d made an astonishingly good job of them.
‘Lads, that’s fantastic,’ Jim said, when he saw the tree they’d created in the little girl’s room. He couldn’t believe how well they’d done. ‘Let me take a picture of it for Cassie’s portfolio. She’ll be well chuffed.’
Jim snapped the tree for posterity.
‘It’s the first time I’ve ever done a Christmas tree,’ Smudge said, shyly. ‘We never used to have one at home.’
That pulled Jim up short. ‘Not ever?’
Smudge shrugged. ‘Never.’
‘Did you celebrate Christmas at all?’
‘Not really. Mam and Dad might get even more pissed than usual on Christmas Eve, but that was about it.’
‘Your mum didn’t cook a Christmas dinner?’
Smudge laughed at that. ‘You don’t know my mam!’
Jim was probably glad he didn’t.
‘You’ve never had Christmas dinner?’ Even Rozzer was appalled at that, his family being, by his own account, fairly dysfunctional.
‘Nah.’ Smudge looked embarrassed now. ‘I’ve seen it, though. On the telly. It looks well good.’
Jim felt an unexpected wave of resentment wash over him. How was it possible that Carter Randall could have so much when there were millions of people out there who had so little? If he thought about it for too long his blood might boil. All this money lavished on just a few bloody weeks of partying. It suddenly seemed ridiculous.
Take this little jaunt that Cassie was on. How much was that lot costing? What was the price of hiring a private jet for a start? It seemed not only ridiculous but downright offensive. If he had that sort of money, he’d want to do some good with it, make sure that others benefited from his wealth. Some people could be so bloody selfish.
He looked around him. Opulence on a scale that he could never have imagined. And for what? It was pretty sickening to even look at.
‘We need to go,’ Jim said, forcing his voice to be bright. So far the lads didn’t seem to be reacting as strongly as he was about the uneven distribution of wealth and he didn’t want his blackening mood to affect them. After all, he had some good news for them too. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m starving hungry. And we’ve got somewhere else to pop into before I take you back to the unit.’
They all had a look at the boy’s room together too. Here the tree was also white but decorated with purple baubles and lime-green bows. It was equally stunning. If it was up to Jim, which it wasn’t, he’d give both of the lads a bonus. To do this from a standing start was more than he could have ever expected.
‘Rozzer, this is great too.’ Suddenly, he felt his professional barrier come crashing down. ‘Give us a hug. I’m bloody proud of you both.’ Tears welled in the lads’ eyes as he grabbed hold of them both. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘You’re stars. Both of you. Bloody stars.’
Smudge was crying openly now. ‘I’ve never done anything nice before,’ he sobbed. ‘It looks really pretty.’
Rozzer, himself wiping away a surreptitious tear, mussed up Smudge’s hair. ‘You soft cu —’
‘Language!’ Jim said and they all laughed together.
They broke away and took one last lingering look at the tree. Their work here was done and Jim was sure that Cassie would be thrilled.
Chapter Forty-Six
We arrive at Icehotel in unique style, snowmobiling along the frozen Torne river at a giddy speed of thirty miles an hour, shrieking with pleasure. By the time we park up at the hotel’s private dock, it’s already getting dark. We climb off the snowmobiles and Jan takes our helmets.
I brush away the icicles that have formed on Eve’s fringe. ‘Did you like that?’
She nods enthusiastically. ‘You’re fun, Cassie,’ she says. ‘And Daddy likes you.’
My cheeks redden and it’s not just due to the cold.
‘I like you too,’ she adds.
I hug her to me. ‘Well, that’s good. Because I like you.’
She slips her small hand in mine and we head off towards the hotel.
Lights guide us to the entrance and give a purple glow to the crisp, deep snow. The Icehotel rises up ahead of us like some sort of fantasy kingdom for a snow queen.
Once more, the children are wide-eyed.
‘We’re staying here?’ Eve asks.
‘It’s pretty, isn’t it?’
‘And it’s really made of ice?’
‘Yes,’ I laugh. ‘It really is.’
Max looks concerned. ‘It won’t melt while we’re asleep, will it?’
‘No, it won’t.’ With the temperature now tipping below minus twenty-five, it seems very unlikely. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’
‘When I grow up I want to live here and have my own snowmobile,’ Max announces. ‘Can I do that, Daddy?’
‘It sounds like a plan,’ Carter agrees affably.
While we’re standing still, I can feel my eyelashes starting to freeze and I don’t want the children to get chilled. ‘Shall we go inside and see if we can find some hot chocolate?’
‘Yay!’ they both cry.
Normally, I won’t leave the flat at home if the mercury hits zero degrees and yet, look at me out here, having fun in the freezing cold. It’s as if I’ve turned into a completely different person in the last few days. I certainly feel a long way from home and all that I know.
We hit the reception area of the hotel, which, thankfully, isn’t made of ice. It’s busy and welcoming, with a big wood-burning stove as a centrepiece. I order hot chocolate for us all and then go to the main desk to check in our party with Jan’s assistance.
I’ve booked the Royal Deluxe Suite for Carter – the very best room that they have. Of course. The children are in an adjoining suite. I’ve booked for myself the most basic accommodation, a snow room. Nothing fancy for me, just a very chilly bed for the night. For me, this could well be like sleeping in my own fridge.
The receptionist is taking her time, trawling through her list. She looks up at Jan, worried. ‘I have only two rooms reserved,’ she says in impeccable English. ‘This is difficult?’
I can’t have a glitch now, not at this critical moment, when everything’s gone so smoothly. ‘Please tell me it’s not the suites that are a problem.’
‘No,’ she says. ‘I have two suites.’
Thank goodness for that. This is to be one of the highlights of the trip. My stomach unclenches.
‘But no snow room. That has been cancelled.’
‘It can’t have,’ I say.
‘Yah.’ An apologetic shrug. ‘Is so.’
I pull out my trusty folder with all the arrangements in it. When I find the confirming email, I put it on the counter. She looks at it, unmoved, and then taps at her computer. ‘It was cancelled by telephone yesterday.’
‘Who by?’
‘Unfortunately, I do not have a name.’
‘Damn.’ What a cock-up! At least it’s only inconveniencing me. ‘Have you got anything else?’ I ask. ‘I’ll sleep anywhere.’
She scans her screen again, frowning, before she shakes her head with a finality that clearly can’t be argued with. ‘I’m sorry. The hotel is very popular. We are fully booked for tonight.’
I turn to Jan. Now what? As my mind is racing, Carter comes to join us. ‘Problem?’
‘Not with your booking,’ I assure him. ‘The suites are absolutely fine. It’s just that I haven’t got a room. Somehow the booking has been cancelled in error. I definitely organised it. I’ve got the confirmation here.’
‘They’ve nothing else available?’
‘You can come back to the wilderness lodge,’ Jan suggests.
‘Of course,’ I say stoically. ‘That will be fine.’
It’s a convenient solution, no doubt, but my heart sinks. This place looks so magical, so special, that I want to stay here too. I don’t think I could bear to climb into Jan’s car and drive away from Carter and the children for the night. My eyes fill up at the thought of it.
‘Don’t worry,’ Carter says, gently. ‘No need for tears.’
‘I don’t want to leave the children,’ I say, feeling stupid.
‘We’re all family now.’ From the depths of his Arctic suit, he pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at my eyes. ‘Max can sleep in with me, and you and Eve can share the other room. If that suits you, Cassie?’
The lump that had blocked my throat eases instantly. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course.’ He smiles at the receptionist. ‘There’s no difficulty with that, is there?’
‘No difficulty at all, Mr Randall,’ she confirms.
Hmm, she didn’t look at me in that nothing-is-too-much-trouble manner. If Carter had been alone in his suite tonight, she looks as if she might well have been offering him bed-warming services.
He turns and grins at me. ‘Then that’s settled. We couldn’t have Mrs Christmas with nowhere to sleep for the night.’
‘Thank you, Carter,’ I say. ‘You’re very kind.’
‘Nonsense. It was the only solution.’
We’re given passes to our cabins, which are in the warm part of the hotel. Jan and I carry our bags through to these areas and leave them there. If you take any luggage into the icy wing, it just freezes up as the rooms are set at a constant minus five degrees. When it’s time for bed we’ll get our sleeping bags from the equipment desk right next to reception. Then we’ll get changed in the warm cabins before going into the icy wing to sleep.
We walk through the complex to have dinner in the rustic homestead restaurant and then, laughing and shrieking, throw snow over each other all the way back to the hotel. The night is clear, the stars sparkling. Surely tonight we’ll see the northern lights. Still safely ensconced in our full Arctic kit, we all troop into the Icebar.
It’s truly spectacular, with sculptures dotted around. Everything is made of ice. The music rocks out and both of the children’s jaws hit the floor.
‘Wicked,’ Max gasps, mouth gaping as he takes it all in.
‘I’ve never been in a bar before,’ Eve says, equally awe-struck. ‘It’s lovely. I want to stay here for ever.’
‘If she’s an alcoholic by the time she’s twenty, I’ll be blaming you,’ Carter whispers in my ear.
Oh Lord. I hope they don’t tell their mother that I took them into a bar.
All around the dance floor are carved murals of couples doing the tango and, above us, the ice ceiling is decorated with footprints. Next to the dance floor is a small, elevated booth carved from ice with a curved ice bench running along two sides, covered with reindeer skins. I usher the children into it.
‘My bottom’s cold,’ Max says, sitting down gingerly.
‘What would you like to drink, kids?’
Eve peruses the menu. ‘I’ll have a Cheery Chiller. Vodka and cranberry juice.’
‘Without the vodka,’ Carter notes. ‘Nice try.’
‘I think she’s trying to get into the family business early,’ I tease him.
He shakes his head, resigned. ‘I’m already dreading the day.’ He turns to his son. ‘For you, Max?’
‘Something pink,’ he declares.
‘I want something pink too, Daddy,’ Eve says, not to be left out.
So Carter and I go to the bar. The neon-coloured cocktails, which cost a king’s ransom, are served in chunky tumblers carved out of ice, with a sprinkling of salt around the rims to stop your lips sticking to them.
‘I could do with getting my Pure Pleasure drinks in here,’ he muses. ‘And the alcoholic ice lollies would go down a storm.’
‘No work today,’ I insist and he laughs.
‘Old habits die hard.’
> We make our choice, a Source of Life cocktail for Carter and one called Frozen Love for me. Plenty of vodka in ours. We pick two non-alcoholic and, as requested, very pink drinks for the children.
Back at our booth, we all clink our ice glasses together and knock back the drinks.
‘Wow,’ Carter says. ‘That freezes your lungs.’
‘It tastes nice.’ Max sticks his tongue into his ice glass.