The Reindeer Girl (2 page)

“You look so … familiar,” Oldeforeldre murmured slowly. Lotta realized she was having to translate her thoughts into English – Mum had warned her that her great-grandmother didn’t speak English quite as well as the rest of the family. But her English was still a lot better than Lotta’s Norwegian. And Lotta didn’t speak any of the Sami languages at all.

“Who do I look like?” she asked curiously.

“My little cousin – she was called Lotta, like you. She was a year younger than me – we travelled together, with the reindeer. Such special times.” Oldeforeldre sighed. “She had dark hair like you, too, with the little plaits and the fringe. So pretty.” She patted Lotta’s cheek. “Kristin, pass me the photograph album. You will remember
the photos – I told you these stories, too, so many times.” Oldeforeldre smiled at Lotta’s mum.

Lotta’s mum reached for a battered-looking album covered in green cloth, opened it and passed it to her grandmother. She then sat down on the floor next to them so that she could see the photos, too.

“There! That was taken on our last winter journey before we were sent off to school. Look, do you see the likeness? So much like Lotta…”

Lotta peered at the faded brown-and-white photo. Two girls, both about the same age she was now, in beautiful dresses. They had full skirts, with bands of embroidery all round. Her great-grandmother, Erika, had a cap on. A Four Winds cap, Mum had said it was
called, with its four peaks – a little bit like a jester’s hat. But the other girl, this other Lotta, was bareheaded, beaming at the camera, with one front tooth missing, just like Lotta had now. There was a dog sitting beside them, with his tongue hanging out a bit, so he looked like he was smiling, too.

“You got sent away to school?” Lotta asked, looking at the two girls in the photo. They looked too young to go away from their family.

“Yes. But we were lucky, Lotta – we went together. We were not so lonely. My poor brother Matti, he knew no one when he first went to school.”

“Was it fun?” Lotta had read books about girls at boarding school, always having midnight feasts and adventures. If you didn’t mind being away from home, it might be fun, she supposed.

“Sometimes.” Oldeforeldre sighed. “But we were not supposed to talk our own language, Lotta. We were there to become Norwegian and not Sami, and Sami was all we knew. It was very hard.”

“It sounds horrible!” Lotta exclaimed.

“You can see why this last journey together was so special for us both.” Oldeforeldre smiled down at the girls in the photograph.

Very gently, Lotta reached out and stroked one finger over the picture, wishing she could be part of their story, too. She sensed her mum reach out to stop her, but Oldeforeldre gently pushed her back.

“No, Kristin, Lotta can touch. I want her to understand. I remember that journey so clearly…”

Chapter Two

“Mmmm, I love the gingery smell.”

Lotta sniffed happily, as Mormor pulled another tray of
pepperkaken
out of the oven. “You’ve made loads! Are there lots and lots of people coming to this party?”

Mormor nodded. “All the relatives! One of my cousins has brought her family from America, even.” She smiled. “Those look beautiful, Lotta.”

Lotta’s mum laughed. “Too pretty to eat!”

Lotta admired the curls of icing she’d used to decorate the biscuits. Although she might have to be a bit less fancy with the others or she’d never get them all done in time for the party tonight.

“Ah!” Mormor peered out of the window. “There’s your father and Tomas!”

“With the Christmas tree?” Lotta squeaked.

When they’d first got to Mormor and Morfar’s house two days before, Lotta had been surprised that there was no Christmas tree. She had supposed that they just didn’t have them in Norway. It seemed funny, though, because there were spruce trees everywhere and so many Christmas decorations.

But that morning Uncle Tomas had explained that the day before Christmas Eve was called Little Christmas Eve. This was the real beginning of Christmas time in Norway. It was traditional not to put up the tree until then.

Lotta jumped up and ran out into the hall. Dad and Uncle Tomas were struggling inside with the most enormous Christmas tree she had ever seen.

“Backwards?” Dad suggested, trying not to take out the light fitting, and Uncle Tomas nodded, reversing to squeeze through the living-room door.

The tree was so big it only just fitted in the space in the corner of the room. It was beautiful and it had the most amazing piney smell. The scent mixed with the gingery biscuits, and Lotta thought it smelled exactly like Christmas.

“Here are the decorations, look.” Morfar hurried in with two large boxes, and Mum and Uncle Tomas started to unpack them, laughing as they recognized the old ones that they remembered from
when they were children.

Lotta stared as they started to clip little metal candle holders on to the branches. Mum and Dad would
never
have had real candles on their Christmas tree at home. Real candles that Uncle Tomas lit! Norwegians were very fond of candles, Lotta decided. She could see why – they were far prettier than fairy lights. Dad didn’t look at all sure about them, though.

“Like it?” Uncle Tomas asked, nudging Lotta with his elbow, as he lit the last of the candles.

“It’s perfect,” Lotta told him seriously. “But I think you could have got a bigger tree,” she added, grinning.

Uncle Tomas rolled his eyes, and Dad snorted with laughter. The star they’d put on the top of the tree was actually scraping the ceiling.

“Oh, Lotta, you look beautiful!” Mormor beamed at Lotta as she walked down the stairs. “What a perfect party outfit.”

Lotta smiled at her grandmother. The dress was one of her Christmas presents, but Mum and Dad had given it to her early, so that she could wear it to the
special party. She had wanted a Norwegian folk costume ever since she had seen pictures of her mum wearing hers – and then she’d found out that her mum still had her
bunad
costume, hanging at the back of her wardrobe!

Lotta’s wasn’t a real
bunad
, because the real ones were made out of heavy wool, and had gold and silver threads woven into the embroidery. They were really, really expensive. But yesterday Mum had told Lotta that they were going on a shopping trip. She explained to Lotta that she’d arranged for a shop in Tromsø to find some children’s folk costumes the right size for her. Then she would be able to wear the Norwegian dress at the party for Oldeforeldre’s birthday on Little Christmas Eve.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Lotta did a little twirl in the hallway. She had chosen a dress with a black skirt, and a red and gold top a bit like a waistcoat, over a frilly white blouse. It wasn’t anything like the party clothes she wore at home, but it felt right to wear it here.

Uncle Tomas and his wife, Lotta’s Aunt Caroline, had traditional costumes, too, and so did their tiny baby, Hanna. Mum was wearing her
bunad
, and even Lotta’s dad was wearing black trousers, and a shirt with full sleeves and embroidery down the front. Dad had said he’d wear the proper costume if Mum wanted him to, but she could see that he hated the look of the knee breeches and stockings! Lotta thought that Morfar, Uncle Tomas and Great-uncle Aslak looked very smart, though.

Mormor and Morfar’s house was full of people, and amazingly noisy. Luckily, Mum had said Lotta could stay up late, since it was a special occasion. There was no way she’d be able to sleep in their room upstairs with this noise going on.

People kept rushing up to them and hugging her mum. Lotta wished she could understand what they were saying better, although she soon worked out what the Norwegian for “and this must be Lotta!” was. After a while she wandered off and perched on the windowsill, admiring everyone’s clothes.

“Why don’t we go and get something to eat?” her dad suggested, coming to find her. “I bet there’s hot chocolate, as well.”

Lotta nodded, and they threaded their way through the beautifully dressed crowd, making for the big table, which was piled with food. The
pepperkaken
biscuits that Lotta had decorated with Mum and Mormor were there. She was pretty sure she had seen one of her American cousins eating one.

They hadn’t got very far towards the food table when someone stopped Lotta’s dad to talk to him. Lotta rolled her eyes and went on without him. She was hungry now, and she could smell the party food.

In the centre of the table were great big plates of
lutefisk
. Lotta wasn’t sure about that. It was dried fish, and Mum said it was delicious, but Dad had whispered to her that he thought it was horrible, and he always had to pretend to like it to keep Mormor happy when they visited. Lotta took some of the bits of bacon that went with it, though, and the potatoes. And she loved the roast pork rib, which was already carved in slices. She balanced a couple of biscuits on the edge of her plate, too, and then went to look for somewhere to sit.

The thing was, everywhere was so full of people, all talking louder and louder. Lotta blinked in the candlelight and wished there was somewhere quieter she could go.

“Are you all right, Lotta?”

Lotta turned round slowly, hoping it was someone she knew. Oldeforeldre was standing behind her, leaning on her walking stick. She was smiling, and Lotta beamed back.

“You look lovely in your dress, Lotta. But tired. Shall we go and sit in my room?”

“Oh, please.” Lotta nodded. “I’ve got cookies, look. We can share them.” She followed her great-grandmother through the main room, and they both sighed with relief as the door shut behind them and the noise of the party went down to a
quiet buzz. It was cosy in the little room, with the wood stove going and the dim light making the horn carvings gleam.

“Happy birthday!” Lotta said excitedly, as she sat down on the floor with her plate in front of her. “Oh, sorry! Maybe I shouldn’t make you sit in here when this is your party.”

She looked at Oldeforeldre uncertainly, but her great-grandmother sniffed. “It is
my
birthday, Lotta, and
I
want to have a quiet sit down. I have been talking to everyone for hours already, it seems to me.”

Lotta nodded. “I know what you mean. Your dress is beautiful – it isn’t like anyone else’s at all.”

Oldeforeldre wasn’t wearing a white blouse with a dress over it, like Lotta’s.
Instead her dress was a beautiful bright blue wool, with red and gold embroidery round the neck and shoulders, and an embroidered belt, too.

Oldeforeldre nodded and smiled. “Ah! Yes, this is a Sami dress, Lotta. I wear it only for special occasions now, but when I was younger, this is what we wore all the time. Always the dress. And it was made out of reindeer skin then, not cloth.”

“Reindeer skin!” Lotta squeaked, horrified. That was awful, like wearing a fur coat.

Oldeforeldre laughed. “But yes, Lotta! You know my family were reindeer herders. We lived with the reindeer all through the year. They gave us everything. Meat. The skins to wear.” She pulled the photograph album from the shelf and turned to the photo of herself and her cousin Lotta. “Even our shoes were made of reindeer skin, can you see?” She pointed to the boots the two girls were wearing, with strange, curled toes. To Lotta, they looked like the kind of thing an elf would have. “These days our costumes are made from wool, and sometimes we wore wool dresses back then, too. But reindeer skin is the warmest thing to wear in the snow.”