Pink Snow

by Edna Dawes

  “Yes, of course,” she said, automatically.

  Her intention to skip dinner that evening was thwarted by Robert, who knocked on her door shortly after seven-thirty and said, “Frau Petz told me you are planning to spend the whole evening up here by yourself. Is that such a good idea?”

  “I just don’t feel hungry. I’ve had an awful afternoon.”

  “I know. It’s all over the village.” He leant against the door jamb. “I’m no doctor, but to my mind the worst thing you can do is shut yourself up to brood on it. I appreciate how you must feel, and of course it is bound to depress you to a certain extent, but I’m a very good ‘cheerer-upper’ as you’ll find out if you have dinner with me tonight.”

  She looked up at his dark eyes and weakened beneath the determination in them. He looked set to stay by that door until she agreed.

  “You had better prove yourself as good as your boast,” she said with a faint smile, “for I shall take an awful lot of cheering-up, I warn you.”

  “There’s nothing I like better than a challenge,” he returned easily. “I’ll wait downstairs for you. Please wear that pink and white thing you had on last night – it’s pretty.”

  Robert fulfilled his promise. The warm friendliness of the Stube provided the perfect antidote for the cold shock of the afternoon. The German family were halfway through their meal, but broke off their voluble conversation to smile and nod at Kathryn as she entered.

  “They seem to be having a whale of a time here,” she remarked as she slid into her corner seat. “Their high spirits are infectious.”

  “Yes, indeed. The whole atmosphere is very gemütlich,” said Robert sitting down again.

  “What was that word you used? It’s German, isn’t it? Do you speak the language?” she asked with quick interest.

  He shrugged her questions aside with, “I’ve spent a couple of holidays in this country. One tends to pick up the odd word or two.”

  “What does it mean?” she persisted. “I’d like to learn a little while I am here.”

  “Gemütlich? We have no real translation of it. The nearest we can get is cosy . . . companionable . . . something like that. They pride themselves that the word is unique to them.”

  “Why shouldn’t they? I’m a firm believer in national individuality. If we were all alike the world would hold no beckoning mysteries for us. Do you know any more?”

  He regarded her solemnly. “I know that Vorsicht! means ‘look out’! It comes in handy if a large boulder is about to fall on me. The locals don’t have time to translate it into six different languages in the hopes that I shall understand one of them.”

  A smile broke through at last. “Thanks for telling me. If you hadn’t, I should still be saying ‘pardon’ when the boulder hit me,” she joked.

  “You won’t be mountaineering, so it won’t be used.” He thanked Maria for the meal she had just brought, and looked quizzically at Kathryn. “You know, I just can’t equate a lovely fragile creature like you with my idea of a woman writer.”

  She made a face. “Is that another way of saying I don’t look the intelligent type?”

  “Yes, I suppose it is – but it’s not meant to sound uncomplimentary.”

  At that moment Maria returned and Kathryn, reminded of the man of the balcony who had also made comments on her profession, tackled the girl.

  “Maria, who is the man I saw on the neighboring balcony this afternoon? Tall and fair, with a great deal of conceit.”

  Maria smiled. “That would be Anton. He owns the sports shop. He is very nice, isn’t he?”

  “I wouldn’t say he gave me that impression.”

  “But when you meet him properly you will see. Why should you think him conceited. Miss Davis?”

  “He seemed to think he had the right to question everything I do.”

  “That is just his way. When he hears about the accident, he asks every day how you are feeling. He is a good friend, you understand, and makes another member of the mountain rescue team with my father.”

  Just then a voice called from the kitchen, and the conversation broke up.

  “What was all that about?” asked Robert curiously, and Kathryn told him about the episode during the afternoon.

  “I suppose I was a bit rude to him, but it was his manner which annoyed me more than anything. Of course, I forgot him when the Inspector came.”

  “Tell me, Kathryn,” said Robert adroitly veering away from that subject, “just how do you set about looking for this fairytale you are after?” He pushed the veal stew towards her.

  She served herself from the dish and returned it to him. “So much has happened since I arrived, I have almost forgotten why I came. I should like to talk to some local residents first. It’s possible they may provide the perfect material. If not, I’ll move on to another area and try again.”

  “If you want to get steeped in local folklore, there’s a marvellous opportunity in two days’ time. Frau Petz told me there is to be a village ‘hop’ at the Berghof hotel. It. is held annually to commemorate the local fisherman who is reputed to have caught a giant trout in the river which runs through Mosskirch. All this happened in eighteen sixty-four, and I gather the legendary trout grows in size as the evening progresses. There is nothing more gemütlich than the atmosphere on these occasions. Would you like me to take you?”

  Kathryn jumped at the offer. “I’d love it. Even if it turns out to be unproductive as far as my writing is concerned, I’d get to know something about the Austrians. There is nothing like merriment for making people let their hair down to reveal their true selves.”

  Robert looked up from serving himself with vegetables. “That’s why I’m escorting you. These Austrians get pretty wild when the mood takes them. On the whole, they are very disciplined when it comes to work, citizenship, and even sport. Everything they do in these fields is extremely earnest and dedicated. Woe betide anyone who ridicules the things they take seriously. On the other hand, when it’s time for fun, they throw themselves into it with equal dedication. They rarely mix the two, though.”

  “You must be a student of human nature to have noticed so much about them. Is it part of your job to observe people?” she asked conversationally.

  “Not really. I’m in the aircraft business. However, when you climb with them it’s surprising how much you learn about their temperament. It is very different from ours.”

  Two hours later, Robert declared his intention of going for a walk before turning in, and Kathryn headed for bed. The events of the day had caught up with a vengeance, making her feel heavy and lethargic, but the oppression of the afternoon had lifted somewhat due to Robert’s efforts to entertain her. The memory of his smiling brown eyes when he asked her to the dance gave her a warm, comfortable feeling. Thank heavens he was here or she would feel utterly alone in this dreadful situation.

  At the foot of the stairs, she encountered Maria, who was hurriedly buttoning her coat ready to go out.

  “Are you meeting your boyfriend, Maria?” asked Kathryn noting the glow on the girl’s face. “He is very handsome. I daresay all the girls in the village have their eyes on him.”

  “Yes, but I have been his girl for longer than any other. Did you arrange for your car with him?”

  “He has to get a spare part from Innsbruck before starting work on it, but I don’t mind the delay. It will give me some time to work, which is why I came to Austria.”

  “Oh yes, Mr. Farr told me you are writing a book,” said Maria with interest. “You should meet Anton. There would be much for you to talk about.”

  “I can’t think of anything,” said Kathryn dryly.

  “But you both are authors. It is nice for two people to discuss these things together, is it not?”

  Kathryn began to feel rather strange. “I don’t follow you. I thought you said Anton owned the sports shop.”

  “So he does, but he also writes books. It is his third which is being written now.”

 
“Oh no! But I told him . . . oh dear, what did I tell him!” Color flooded to her cheeks as she recalled her superior tone when she called him a shopkeeper.

  “I will introduce you,” offered Maria.

  “Later on will do,” replied Kathryn faintly, and made her way upstairs.

  Depression had returned. It didn’t occur to her that it might be caused by delayed shock from her accident. The thought paramount in her mind was that she had made an unholy mess of this trip which had been, planned to get away from her mother’s stifling influence. Perhaps I can’t really do without her parental fussing, she thought gloomily as she undressed. I have lived so long under her domination, I’ll never break free from it and might as well give up trying!

  A hearty punch in the centre of her pillow failed to relieve her bottled-up emotions and tears flowed freely the minute she slid beneath her puffed quilt. The horror of the photograph of the man she had killed returned to haunt her, and she tossed and turned in a feverish attempt to remember what had happened after she passed the restaurant at the top of Kapellerpass. It was no use! All she could recall was the pleasure of seeing the lights below in the village, and feeling happy with her freedom.

  Specter after specter added its ghoulish weight to her worries. Suppose her amnesia were permanent? What would be the verdict on the man’s death? How would she ever know whether it was due to her own careless driving, or the man’s foolishness? On and on went the relentless nagging keeping sleep at bay and increasing her fever. The police might insist on keeping her in Austria until the case was settled. It could take months before they discovered the identity of the man, by which time, Mrs. Davis would have created such a hullabaloo the whole of Europe would know the facts!

  If the victim had a wife and children somewhere, they would surely regard her with recrimination for the rest of their lives. The anguish this thought gave lasted for some time until her brain began to clear a little and commonsense edged its way in to pinpoint some strange facts. The man’s pockets had been completely empty, according to the Inspector. If he was not a local man, what was a complete stranger doing wandering on foot over the mountains in semidarkness with nothing in his pockets? No keys, no money, no wallet or papers? Mosskirch was practically on the Bavarian border, yet he carried no passport with him. Even to a layman like herself there was something very suspicious about his complete anonymity. It suggested that the reason for his presence in the mountains was of a secretive nature, yet what skullduggery could take place high up on a snow-swept peak?

  Eventually she reached the down-to-earth solution that the man must have been robbed and was seeking a lift in her car when she ran him down in the half-light. Some strange puzzle about her car fretted her just before sleep came, but it eluded her that night.

  The weather was kind again the following morning and Kathryn firmly pushed all thoughts of accidents and death from her mind and went on a tour of the village. Robert didn’t appear at breakfast and Maria told Kathryn he had taken a packed lunch and set off early while the day was still clear. At this time of year sudden storms blew up or mists descended with no warning, said Maria, and she advised Kathryn not to wander too far away unless she left word of where she was going.

  Her, route through the village took her past the Berghof hotel where preparations were already being made for the following evening’s entertainment. It was one of the buildings surrounding the village square and, in common with most of the others, had brightly-painted murals on the outside walls. These pictures depicted anything from religious festivals to farmyard scenes, and varied in size from miniature portraits above the door to vast paintings which covered the entire façade of the building.

  The main street branched into three at the end of the village, and Kathryn took the one which led up to the tiny railway station. Soon after she had woken up that morning, the toot of a train had drawn her to the window of her bedroom to watch its progress through the valley. Now, she intended asking for a timetable, if such a thing existed, so that she could make the journey she had promised herself before she left.

  Her tentative question brought forth a beautifully-printed page giving times and fares for the small red trains, and she was so intent on studying it she nearly missed a most amusing cameo just outside the station. Sounds of shouting, train whistles blowing and bells ringing brought her eyes up from the timetable to witness a battle between nature and science.

  The mid-morning passenger service to Sternsee was being held up by two dun-colored cows who ambled amiably along the single-track, stopping here and there to munch a particularly juicy patch of grass, and blinking long lashes in complete disregard for the iron creature behind them. The driver, a vociferous young man in an operetta-style uniform, jumped from his seat to shoo the offenders away after his repeated toots on the whistle had left them unmoved. Full of wide-eyed indignation they swayed their clumsy bodies back on to the path running beside the line, but no sooner had the driver leapt into his cab than they trod on the lines again.

  The plump man who ran Mosskirch station singlehanded donned his guard’s hat and ran up the line waving a red flag at the cows, but this only succeeded in rooting them to the spot with fear. Heads popped from windows along the length of the two carriages and each joined in with shouts of advice or laughter, and by the time the eleven o’clock Innsbruck to Sternsee train rolled into Mosskirch station everyone including Kathryn was laughing heartily. The driver jumped out to collect some packages left on the platform, saw Kathryn’s smiling face and called “Grüss Gott!” The comment he added brought a polite acknowledgement from her, but judging from his flashing teeth and saucy smile she had her suspicions that it had been cheeky.

  On her return walk, Kathryn’s mind was busy with a storybook fantasy in which two cows were regarded by villagers to be princesses under a spell and therefore were allowed to walk where they pleased. The resultant chaos this would bring amused her no end until she was brought back to the present by a blast from a motor horn and realized she had walked straight into the road.

  True to habit, she spent the remainder of the morning strolling along a path beside the railway track, stopping here and there to sit on one of the brightly-painted seats while she wrote a short impression of what she saw. It was not so much a literal description as a look through a child’s eyes at the wonders which lay before her. As usual, work provided a panacea which left her calm after the night’s storm, and she returned for lunch almost lighthearted. Clouds were creeping through the gap in the mountains as she reached the Gasthaus, and tilting back her head to look at Karlstein, Kathryn found the peak had already disappeared into the grey billowing mass. A shiver passed over her. Somehow, the thought that the snow-covered summit still reared into the sky somewhere amongst that cloud gave her a fey sensation, but as soon as she was in her warm room, the feeling passed.

  While she prepared for lunch she struggled with nothing more complex than the problem of what to wear when Robert took her to the Berghof the following evening. Having never been to a “trout dance” before she would be excused for incorrect attire, she felt sure. A smile spread across her face at her name for this annual event, and delightful visions of bejewelled fish partnering each other in the waltz immediately floated before her.

  “Hello. I am glad you can smile after what happened yesterday.”

  Dragged from her pleasant inventiveness, she looked from her window to the balcony of the shop next door. He was leaning on the rail again, looking up the several feet to her room.

  “Don’t you ever do any work?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Of course . . . but I have to eat at mealtimes. Did you enjoy your walk this morning?”

  “How did . . .?”

  “I saw you from my window making your way along the path. Your red coat is quite outstanding on a bright day. Besides, I know all the village girls too well to believe they would wander in the sunshine when they should be working. Were you writing a fairy tale while you were sitting on the s
eats?”

  Bearing in mind what Maria had told her about this man last night, she limited herself to a stiff negative and added that her lunch was waiting.

  “Wait a minute, please,” he called, straightening into a more attentive attitude. “I know what Inspector Schultz told you yesterday and I feel very sorry for you. If I can help you in any way, I shall be glad to. It cannot be pleasant to have no one of your own to advise you.”

  “It’s very kind of you, but I do have someone to turn to – a fellow guest, and he is English.”

  She had had no intention of emphasizing that last word, but it came out that way and the Austrian noticed it. He stiffened as he had yesterday and snapped out, “I see. No doubt he is more suitable to you,” before going inside leaving her to sigh at his prickliness.

  Over lunch which she ate alone because the other guests were out for the day, she wondered about her neighbor. The blighting reference to him as a shopkeeper had been made under the influence of her quick temper, and not because he gave the impression of being a tradesman. In fact, when she thought about it there was something vital about him which vetoed any thoughts of stolid rusticity, yet fitted very compatibly with the quick mind of a writer. So she had made a social faux pas, but thank goodness it was not one which would matter much.