the belly hair, only the tip visible. It ran the full length
of the abdomen to the waist.
‘Good Heavens!’ Harry said, breaking the silence. He pushed
his glasses further up his nose and openly scrutinised the penis. ‘Now we know
why he was called The Great God Pan.’
The tension was broken, and peals of laughter echoed through
the room. We crowded around the statue, examining it, marvelling at the detail.
I touched the penis. It was so lifelike that I half-expected it to throb under
my hand. As I turned away, I saw Mike watching me, his eyes steady.
Harry drew me to one side. ‘Maggie, I’m not sure I’ll be
able to sleep with that thing grinning at me. There’s a lamp behind it. Do you
think I’ll be able to switch it off?’
I peered into the alcove. Light was filtering through the
statue from a lamp high in the wall, but I could see no way of turning it off.
‘Marita, is that light on all night?’ I said.
She seemed grateful for the change of subject. ‘In the early
hours of the morning, all the Icehotel lamps are switched off from the master
switch in the Excelsior.’
‘There you are,’ I said to Harry. ‘It’ll be too dark to see
him. That means he won’t see you, either.’
‘I suppose I could get used to it . . . ,’ he said, eyeing
the erection.
Mike clapped him on the back, laughing. ‘Now you know where
you can hang your clothes, Harry.’
Jane, standing with the Danes, sniggered loudly. Robyn,
tutting softly, eyed Mike with a look of disapproval. Jim had his back to her,
probably so she couldn’t see the expression on his face.
We visited one more room. In the Scottish Room, we found Macbeth
seated on a crude ice throne. Stretched across his lap was the dead king,
Duncan, staring sightlessly at his murderer. Macbeth’s left arm was under the
corpse, cradling it as a mother would a child. His right hand was removing the
crown from Duncan’s head. Scratched into the snow-covered wall, three witches
danced in a frenzy around a bubbling cauldron, their arms flung back, beards
billowing about their faces. Behind them, Birnam Wood marched to Dunsinane.
‘This brings our tour of the Icehotel to an end,’ Marita
said, in her sing-song voice. ‘I should mention two further buildings that may
interest you. Adjacent to the Icehotel is the Ice Chapel, where we hold
services, including christenings and weddings. And behind the Icehotel, on the
river bank, there is an Ice Theatre, a replica of London’s Globe Theatre. I
should remind you that every Sunday there is a performance in the Sami language of one of Shakespeare’s plays. This Sunday, it
will be Macbeth.’
‘Are we going to get anything out of it?’ said Mike,
scratching his face. ‘I hear Sami’s a weird language, and no mistake.’
‘That should not deter you from seeing the play. Few Swedes
understand Sami, but we still go . ’ She looked
directly at him. ‘Anyway, you will be familiar with Macbeth. I can tell from
your accent that you are Scottish.’ She beamed, delighted with herself.
I glanced at Mike. The look on his face was priceless.
‘And now, I must leave you,’ she said. ‘I hope you have
enjoyed the tour. It has been a great pleasure for me also.’
She inclined her head, acknowledging our applause. We
watched her sashay down the cor ridor, her heavy
buttocks rolling as she walked.
Chapter 5
The group dispersed. The Ellises
marched out first, Robyn in the lead, then Jane left with the Danes, who were
still arguing about chess. Harry announced he was going to unpack (and it would
take him ages), and Liz said she needed to call the twins before her nap. Mike
left for a long workout after accepting with alacrity Harry’s invitation to
meet later in the bar.
I wandered around the Icehotel, getting hopelessly lost
until I eventually stumbled on the corridor that led to the suites. I chose one
at random. It was larger than the regular rooms, the main feature being a giant
ice peacock. He was spreading
of the abdomen to the waist.
‘Good Heavens!’ Harry said, breaking the silence. He pushed
his glasses further up his nose and openly scrutinised the penis. ‘Now we know
why he was called The Great God Pan.’
The tension was broken, and peals of laughter echoed through
the room. We crowded around the statue, examining it, marvelling at the detail.
I touched the penis. It was so lifelike that I half-expected it to throb under
my hand. As I turned away, I saw Mike watching me, his eyes steady.
Harry drew me to one side. ‘Maggie, I’m not sure I’ll be
able to sleep with that thing grinning at me. There’s a lamp behind it. Do you
think I’ll be able to switch it off?’
I peered into the alcove. Light was filtering through the
statue from a lamp high in the wall, but I could see no way of turning it off.
‘Marita, is that light on all night?’ I said.
She seemed grateful for the change of subject. ‘In the early
hours of the morning, all the Icehotel lamps are switched off from the master
switch in the Excelsior.’
‘There you are,’ I said to Harry. ‘It’ll be too dark to see
him. That means he won’t see you, either.’
‘I suppose I could get used to it . . . ,’ he said, eyeing
the erection.
Mike clapped him on the back, laughing. ‘Now you know where
you can hang your clothes, Harry.’
Jane, standing with the Danes, sniggered loudly. Robyn,
tutting softly, eyed Mike with a look of disapproval. Jim had his back to her,
probably so she couldn’t see the expression on his face.
We visited one more room. In the Scottish Room, we found Macbeth
seated on a crude ice throne. Stretched across his lap was the dead king,
Duncan, staring sightlessly at his murderer. Macbeth’s left arm was under the
corpse, cradling it as a mother would a child. His right hand was removing the
crown from Duncan’s head. Scratched into the snow-covered wall, three witches
danced in a frenzy around a bubbling cauldron, their arms flung back, beards
billowing about their faces. Behind them, Birnam Wood marched to Dunsinane.
‘This brings our tour of the Icehotel to an end,’ Marita
said, in her sing-song voice. ‘I should mention two further buildings that may
interest you. Adjacent to the Icehotel is the Ice Chapel, where we hold
services, including christenings and weddings. And behind the Icehotel, on the
river bank, there is an Ice Theatre, a replica of London’s Globe Theatre. I
should remind you that every Sunday there is a performance in the Sami language of one of Shakespeare’s plays. This Sunday, it
will be Macbeth.’
‘Are we going to get anything out of it?’ said Mike,
scratching his face. ‘I hear Sami’s a weird language, and no mistake.’
‘That should not deter you from seeing the play. Few Swedes
understand Sami, but we still go . ’ She looked
directly at him. ‘Anyway, you will be familiar with Macbeth. I can tell from
your accent that you are Scottish.’ She beamed, delighted with herself.
I glanced at Mike. The look on his face was priceless.
‘And now, I must leave you,’ she said. ‘I hope you have
enjoyed the tour. It has been a great pleasure for me also.’
She inclined her head, acknowledging our applause. We
watched her sashay down the cor ridor, her heavy
buttocks rolling as she walked.
Chapter 5
The group dispersed. The Ellises
marched out first, Robyn in the lead, then Jane left with the Danes, who were
still arguing about chess. Harry announced he was going to unpack (and it would
take him ages), and Liz said she needed to call the twins before her nap. Mike
left for a long workout after accepting with alacrity Harry’s invitation to
meet later in the bar.
I wandered around the Icehotel, getting hopelessly lost
until I eventually stumbled on the corridor that led to the suites. I chose one
at random. It was larger than the regular rooms, the main feature being a giant
ice peacock. He was spreading
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