The Reindeer Girl Read online

  For Tom, Robin and William

  ~ HOLLY WEBB

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Glossary

  The World of the Sami

  Copyright

  Uncle Tomas glanced round at Lotta from the front seat of the car. “I know you really want to see your grandparents, and your great-grandmother. But the thing is, on the way from the airport to their house, we will go past the reindeer farm…”

  Lotta gave a little gasp. “Right past it?” she asked, looking pleadingly between her mum and dad.

  “Oh, I don’t know…” Lotta’s mum said, shaking her head doubtfully. “We’re a bit tired from the flight. And Mormor and Morfar and Oldeforeldre will be at their house, waiting to see us.”

  Lotta nodded, trying not to look disappointed. This was her first trip to Norway, and although her grandparents – she called them by their Norwegian names, Mormor and Morfar – had been over to London to visit them several times, she had never met her oldeforeldre. Her great-grandmother was too frail to travel so far, but Lotta loved speaking to her on the phone. One of the reasons that they’d come to Tromsø this year was that Oldeforeldre was going to be ninety, two days before Christmas. They were going to have a special party to celebrate.

  But the reindeer… For Lotta, they were one of the most exciting parts of the trip. They were all mixed up in her mind with the deep snow, and the cold, and the amazing Christmasiness of everything. Even Tromsø airport had been full of beautiful Christmas decorations. And as soon as they had stepped outside, she had breathed in the crisp, freezing air and suddenly felt even more excited. Which she hadn’t thought was possible.

  Ever since she could remember, her mum had told her stories about Oldeforeldre and the reindeer. They were Lotta’s favourite bedtime stories. After her mum had read her way through a stack of picture books, Lotta would always ask for one last story – “a real story now, about Erika and the reindeer.”

  Erika was her great-grandmother. When she was a little girl she had lived in the forest with her family, who were Sami reindeer herders. Some of the time she had slept in a tent that her family packed up in the mornings and carried on a sledge. Erika had ridden on the sledge when she was too tired to walk or ski, as her family travelled with the reindeer on their long journeys across the Finnmark highlands. It was a lot more interesting than living in a normal house and going to school every morning. In her mind, Lotta thought of Erika as the reindeer girl. She was desperate to meet her.

  But she was desperate to meet the reindeer, too. There had been two lifesize model ones in the airport, along with a lot of funny elves that Uncle Tomas had told her were called nisse. He said they were a special Norwegian thing, and Mormor had lots of little ones decorating the house. They had been sweet, but Lotta just wanted to see a real reindeer. She had read about them and tried to find out more about Oldeforeldre’s life as a reindeer herder. But it wasn’t the same as meeting a real one.

  “Actually, it was Oldeforeldre’s idea that we should stop at the farm,” Tomas explained. “She said that when she spoke to Lotta on the telephone, she was so excited about the reindeer and asked so many questions. She said that Lotta would understand all the stories she had to tell her much better if she met the reindeer first.”

  Lotta’s mum laughed. “All right then. Between the two of them, I don’t think we have much choice. I think Lotta might be more excited about seeing the reindeer than the family.”

  Lotta went pink. “That isn’t true! I’m just excited about both.”

  “Good. We will stop at the reindeer farm then. None of our family herd reindeer in the same way that Oldeforeldre did, Lotta,” Uncle Tomas added. “Your great-uncle Aslak runs the farm, but he feeds the reindeer now. They don’t roam wild.”

  Lotta nodded. “I suppose nobody goes travelling with the reindeer now,” she said, a little sadly.

  “It’s a hard life,” Uncle Tomas said, shrugging. “But some families still do. They use snowmobiles mostly, though, not sledges. Ah, we’re nearly there. Just this turning here.” He turned the four-wheel drive off the main road, up a steep lane and through a set of huge gates. There was a sign on them, but Lotta couldn’t understand what it said. Her mum did talk to her in Norwegian and she knew a little bit, but she found it hard to read.

  They piled out of the car, and Lotta was glad of her smart new red coat – it had been bought from a sports shop, and it was thick and padded, meant for skiing. Her mum had said that her old coat wouldn’t be warm enough for the Norwegian winter. Even so, Lotta shivered a little as she pulled on her knitted mittens. Mormor had sent them to her, when they had first decided to visit for Christmas. Mormor had said there was thick snow already and she would need them. Lotta loved the white snowflake pattern knitted into the red wool.

  “Ah, you’ve come!” A huge bear of a man, with a thick brown beard, was hurrying out of the farmhouse towards them. “Little Lotta!” He hugged her, and he was so big that Lotta’s feet lifted off the ground. “My mamma says you are a reindeer girl, too, and I have to show you the reindeer.”

  His mamma – that was Oldeforeldre, Lotta realized. “Yes, please!” she told him, rather shyly. His English was amazingly good, although a little slow and thickly accented.

  He took her hand, her mitten tiny inside his huge, fur-lined glove, and led them over to a shed that was built on to the side of the house. “I have two reindeer in here,” he explained. “Both a little lame, so I brought them inside to recover.” He opened the wooden door gently and there was a scuffling noise from inside as two reindeer stood up in their stalls.

  Lotta took a step back in surprise – somehow she hadn’t expected them to be quite so big. But then she smiled delightedly. “Oh, they’re beautiful,” she murmured. “Can I … can I pat them?”

  “Mmmm, these two are quite tame. I have been feeding them while they are in here, so they are used to me. Here.” Great-uncle Aslak tipped a handful of brown pellets into Lotta’s mittened hand. “Give them these.”

  The reindeer snorted eagerly as they smelled the food and leaned over the metal fence, snuffling.

  Lotta stretched out her hands a little cautiously, but the reindeer were both surprisingly gentle as they gobbled up the pellets. “They really like them!” she told her great-uncle.

  “Mmmm, they are greedy, these two,” he said, smiling.

  “Why doesn’t this one have any antlers?” Lotta asked, frowning at the bigger of the two reindeer. He looked a bit strange without them, almost bald. But very cuddly.

  Great-uncle Aslak laughed. “He is a boy, Lotta. Their antlers drop off in the winter, did you not know? The ladies, they keep theirs a little longer, until after their calves are born. So they can use them to swipe at the boys, if they are being too greedy and taking all the food. They need lots of food, the mothers, to grow their calves. They are carrying the babies all through the winter. This one here, she will have her baby in April, perhaps.”

  “Oh! So this is a mother reindeer?” Lotta asked. The reindeer was nuzzling hopefully at her mittens, as though she thought Lotta might have more food hidden in there somewhere. Her antlers were enormous, Lotta thought, and her nose was soft and velvety. Now she knew the difference, Lotta could see that she was a girl. She was a little smaller, and she didn’t have the thick, shaggy white fur round her neck that the deer in the next pen had. She was quite big round the middle, too, although Lotta couldn’t
really see a bump.

  “Yes, Lotta, I should have told you about the antlers,” her mum said, reaching over to stroke the reindeer, too. “Whenever you see pictures of Father Christmas with reindeer pulling his sleigh, they’re all girls!”

  Lotta giggled. “That’s silly! Ooooh!” The mother reindeer had got impatient, and gently butted the side of Lotta’s head – an obvious demand for more food.

  Great-uncle Aslak tutted. “Greedy! Here, give them a little more, Lotta. They will love you forever now.”

  “I love them, too,” Lotta said, looking into the mother reindeer’s dark eyes as she delicately gulped down the pellets. “Thank you for letting us see them.”

  “Ah, you can come back again and I will take you out to see the rest,” Great-uncle Aslak promised. “But Oldeforeldre, she wanted you to see them quickly today. A special start to your visit, she said.”

  Lotta nodded. “It was perfect…”

  Lotta stood hesitating in the doorway of Oldeforeldre’s room, with her mum and dad behind her. Not only was it the first time she had met her great-grandmother – she was pretty sure it was the first time she had met someone who was almost ninety years old. Oldeforeldre had been born in 1923, really a lifetime ago. The world had been so different then. Oldeforeldre’s world especially.

  Lotta had always felt like she knew Oldeforeldre Erika, the little girl from Mum’s stories. But now she was almost frightened to meet someone who had lived through all that time.

  She stared over at the tiny lady sitting in the armchair by the stove and smiled shyly at her.

  “Lotta!” Oldeforeldre sat up straighter and reached out her arms. “You are here!”

  Lotta’s mum gently pushed her forward, and Lotta walked in. The small room was full of all sorts of things. There were pieces of embroidery hanging on the walls, and shelves with carvings made of reindeer horn. Her mum had some like that at home. There was even a knife with a carved horn handle on one wall. Oldeforeldre lived with Mormor and Morfar, as she found it hard to manage living by herself now. But she had brought her treasures with her from her old house. She slept in here, too, with all her special things. Her bed was in one corner, piled up with brightly coloured blankets.

  Her great-grandmother patted the arm of the chair invitingly, and Lotta perched on it, looking down at her. She had white hair, pulled back into a bun, and she was very wrinkled. But her face was quite tanned, not pale as Lotta had imagined it would be.

  “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…”

  “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.