The Northern Lights Lodge. Julie Caplin

going to have to steel herself for another run in with Eyrun.

      ‘Eyrun?’ Lucy called, cross with herself for being so timid. She was in charge here for heaven’s sake. Despite the dull rhythmic thud of towels in the huge dryer, there was no sign of the Head of Housekeeping. Lucy let out a small sigh of relief

      Was it any wonder Eyrun rarely left her little cave, there was something rather soothing about the somnolent thrum of the dryers? The warm dry air made her feel pleasantly dopey and relaxed and she closed her eyes for a few minutes just letting herself be for a while. Hekla’s positive attitude and talk of petta reddast this morning had given Lucy food for thought. She’d always been organised and successful through hard work and diligence but, before now, she’d never had to face much adversity.

      All the angry bees that had been buzzing in her head for so long, keeping her awake at night with their what ifs and if onlys, had taken flight, leaving a welcome nothingness in her head. The cycle of constant recriminations and fear of doing everything wrong that had hamstrung and exhausted her the past year had dissipated for once, and with Hekla’s words taking root, she was thinking about being more resilient. Not letting Chris win. She’d needed to take charge, assert her authority and not just with Eyrun.

      When the dryer had finally finished its cycle, the quiet of the Lodge echoed in her ears, so silent and still she could almost hear the soft buzz of the dust and fibres settling.

      For a second, she gave into the quiet atmosphere, slouching against a trolley, her head resting on the metal handle.

      As she drooped over the trolley, she saw the sliver of light widen as the door opened very, very slowly.

      Someone slipped in and with furtive intent looked around, overlooking her in the dark corner. The male figure moved forward towards the other room which housed the huge industrial washing machines and a couple of floor-to-ceiling storage cupboards. She watched as he carefully pushed the door too behind him, leaving it an inch open.

      What on earth was he up to? And who was it? Lucy felt uncomfortable spying but as someone in the hotel had been playing unwelcome games, she felt justified even though there’d been no repeat of the dead mice or any other tricks recently. Was she about to catch the culprit in the act? She grabbed an armful of sheets from a nearby trolley to give her a reason for being here and creeping forward to the doorway of the stockroom, she peeped through the gap.

      Alex! What on earth was he doing in here?

      For a few seconds she watched him as he sifted through a pile of duvet covers, poked at the stack of pillowcases, opened a few cupboards and crouched down to take a closer look at the washing powders and cleaning fluids on the shelf.

      Lucy pushed open the door making as much noise as she could.

      He whirled round, his handsome face a picture.

      Handsome. For God’s sake, Lucy, he’s nice looking, that’s all. But there was a distinct flutter in her stomach.

      For what felt like a second too long they stared at one another, with that momentary now what of a pair of gun slingers facing each other.

      ‘Alex!’ Her voice was an octave too high. ‘Fancy seeing you here? Are you helping out with the laundry now?’

      ‘No, I was …’ he looked around as if hoping inspiration might jump up and slap him in the face.

      ‘You look as if you were looking for something?’ she asked, tensing as she realised she was desperate for him to be honest about what he was doing.

      ‘Er yes … some cloths. For the … er … kitchen. Tea-towels.’

      Lucy narrowed her gaze at him, before pointedly looking towards to the room behind them and the shelves by the door, neatly stacked with smaller cloths and tea-towels, used by the kitchen.

      Alex flushed, following her gaze. ‘Sorry. Not thinking. Completely forgot. You know what it’s like when you’ve worked in lots of different places. You get a bit confused every now and then.’ His gabbled speech was so unlike his usual cool, collected self, that Lucy almost felt sorry for him until he changed the subject quickly.

      ‘And how are you finding things?’ he asked in that cool, authoritative yet charming way as if he were the one that was in charge. ‘I hear you’ve promoted Elin.’

      ‘Yes,’ she said stiffly, wondering what business it was of his. ‘She’s now Assistant Housekeeper. Doing a great job.’

      ‘Good move.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she said with a touch of withering sarcasm. Had he forgotten who was in charge here?

      He shrugged, with an anodyne smile that irritated her even more.

      Why was it that he always managed to catch her at a disadvantage?

      ‘Is there anything else you need in here?’ she asked desperate to reassert her authority.

      ‘No,’ he looked at his watch, ‘I must be off.’ And with a quick smile, he sauntered away as if he had all the time in the world.

      ‘You forgot your tea-towels,’ she called with a triumphant crow, but he’d already left the room. She scowled after him, so much for her taking charge.