His feet faltered as he toyed with the idea of going back to the toilets.
‘Are you all right?’ Rachel asked, closing the gap between them.
He nodded but didn’t trust himself to speak. There had to be something here. Something he could focus on. His eyes roamed the airport hangar and then landed on a face in the nearby group. She was real. Noah fixed on the black curls that bounced around her face. Her skin shone luminous, and her eyes were wide, the darkest brown – staring back at him with the same horror, the same desperation he felt inside.
All of a sudden the pressure in his chest eased and for the first time in who knows how long Noah felt almost normal. Almost. As if that day was the blackest, coldest shadow, and this girl – whoever she was – was the sun. It was corny, it was cheesy, it was downright ridiculous, but it was how he felt in that one long second her dark shining eyes locked on his.
The moment passed in a blink. Then her eyes narrowed and her face transformed into a glare. The kind of look that demanded he find something else, someone else, to focus on.
He did.
Noah dropped an arm around Rachel’s shoulder and pulled her close. ‘I’m trying … I’ll try harder.’
Rachel pressed her body against him, stood onto her tiptoes and looped her arms around his neck. She pulled his head down and kissed his lips. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
Noah breathed in the smell of her perfume, filling his head with memories of the early days in their relationship, of conspiring looks across the office canteen and their bodies tangled together in bed. Could they find their way back to that place? After everything that had happened?
‘Hey look, there’s our minibus.’ Rachel dropped her arms and spun towards the exit. ‘Next stop, the Arctic.’
Noah tried not to stare at the back of the girl’s head as she too moved towards the minibus. He kept his pace the same, ignoring the sudden urge to catch up with her. Whatever had passed between them, it was all in his head. He’d been searching for a distraction, and he’d found her. Like the blade of the knife slicing into his skin and the weight of the penknife in his pocket, now pressing against the fresh cut. It was a distraction from the darkness and memories it brought. It didn’t mean anything.
Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe he did need this trip. Maybe.
Noah gripped Rachel’s hand in his as they found two seats at the back of the minibus, and he tried not to think about how alien her touch felt.
Noah
The remaining light of the day had faded fast as they left the airport and began the transfer to camp. From his window at the back of the minibus Noah watched the small city of Tromsø fade into open fields of white, dotted with sparse woodland and bushy fir trees. Heaps of gleaming white snow a metre high bordered the roadside for the entirety of their journey.
As the darkness fell and the roads became emptier, Noah found his eyes drawn to the sky, searching for a break in the clouds and the floating colours of the Northern Lights that he’d only seen in pictures. There were no breaks, just one blanket of cloud, covering the sky with the same density as the snow on the ground.
A pinprick of excitement pierced through the darkness inside him. It was small, almost too small to feel over the vibrating hum of the minibus engine and the shouting small talk from the rest of the group, but Noah felt it.
He squeezed Rachel’s hand.
A wide smile stretched across her face. ‘This will be good for us,’ she said, leaning forward and kissing his cheek.
***
Two hours later the minibus passed through a set of metal gates and pulled to a stop.
The icy air hit like a slap to the face as they trundled one by one into the cold night. Noah’s eyes pricked with tears from the biting cold. A shiver ran over his body. Back in England, the cold had never bothered him. Winters in London after a childhood spent in South Yorkshire felt almost tropical. But this: this cold, this wind – a blade slicing through him – was nothing like Yorkshire.
After three hours of petrol fumes and juddering at the back of the minibus Noah had been desperate to get to camp, but now he wanted back on the bus.
He might as well be wearing nothing but swim shorts for all the good his jacket and clothes were doing, and they weren’t even out in the wilderness yet. How much colder would it get in the middle of the Arctic? A lot, he guessed.
Trust Rachel to choose the coldest place on earth for a travel destination.
Noah stood a step away from the rest of the group and glanced at their surroundings. The headlights from the minibus illuminated five square huts built in dark wood, with the planks running horizontally around the structure, and a slanted roof hidden by snow. Noah strained his eyes beyond the huts, but saw only darkness.
‘Hi.’ A man appeared from the doorway of the nearest hut. The sound of snow crunching carried into the night as he stepped closer, lifting his hand in a wave. ‘Welcome to Huskyleir base camp. I’m Lee, your challenge leader.’
Lee was short – his height falling midway between Rachel’s five foot five and Noah’s own six foot one. He was wide too, but that might have been down to the bulk of his blue jacket. His shaved head, weathered skin, and thick beard gave the impression of someone used to the biting temperature.
‘For anyone feeling a little cold right now –’ he looked at Noah and winked ‘– we’ll be dishing out the snow gear just as soon as you’ve eaten. Along with clothing, you’ll each be given a torch. Keep it with you at all times. When it gets dark here, it’s dark.’
He stepped aside and motioned for them to follow him past the huts to a large tepee-style tent. Noah felt the heat of the open fire before he saw the orange flames dancing from a raised grate in the centre of the hut. Smoke wafted out of a hole in the pyramid-shaped roof. A moment later the hut was filled with the murmurs of relief and the unzipping of jackets as they settled onto the three wooden benches surrounding the fire.
‘We’ve got a few minutes before Valek comes back from checking the dogs,’ Lee said, shrugging off his coat. ‘Let’s do a quick introduction, and go around the group. I always like to hear what made people decide to sign up for this challenge. I’ll start. I’m Lee Hamlin. Husky Adventure Challenge is my company. I’ve been working with huskies and dog sledding for over twenty years, and when I’m not here in Tromsø and sledding in Lapland, I can be found racing my own huskies back in England or buried under mountains of paperwork.
‘I’ve been running this challenge across the Arctic since its conception seven years ago. I guarantee you this will not be easy. There will be times when all of you will wish you’d stayed home, but I can also guarantee you that this will be an experience none of you will ever forget. I don’t know of a single person who’s done this trek who hasn’t found themselves changed in some way for the better because of the week they spent in the Arctic wilderness.’
Lee turned to the nearest bench and nodded at two boys in their late teens, sitting beside a man in his fifties who Noah guessed was their dad. The older boy was taller, his body at its full height and waiting to be filled out with an adult frame. The second boy was smaller and still had a scattering of teenage acne on his cheeks. Both had the same round face and strong nose as their father. The boys gave sheepish waves and looked to their dad.
‘I’m Greg, and these are my boys,’ he said with a wave. ‘This is William – he’s nineteen and studying physics at Cambridge.’ Greg beamed a proud smile at his son. ‘And this is Edward, who’s completing his final year of A levels. I’m hoping both boys will join me in the family insurance business once they’ve finished their studies.’
Noah watched a look pass between