A Winter Affair

by Minna Howard

  ‘Lucky you, shall we come and be kitchen maids, get in some skiing?’ Kit had said.

  ‘You’d be a hopeless kitchen maid,’ she’d heard Lizzie say, ‘you’d be at the wine bottles, too pissed to be any help to anyone.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Kit had answered and she had imagined them ragging each other, pushing and shoving like two overexcited puppies, and how she yearned to be with them now instead of being here trying to pretend she was something she most definitely was not.

  But then she saw Theo, with his mop of blond curls, searching anxiously through the jostling crowd, thrusting up the placard with her name, Eloise Brandon, written in black felt-tip pen. She hovered uncertainly for a moment, struggling to resist an urge to turn and run. She glanced back at him and saw a small brown dog sitting by his feet looking hopefully at the people passing by. How could she be so selfish as to run away? She went over and said, ‘Theo, it’s me, Eloise.’

  ‘Oh, great,’ he looked relieved and the little dog got up and sniffed her, wagging its tail. ‘This is Bert, hope you like dogs.’ Theo watched her warily.

  ‘Yes, I do.’ She patted Bert, who rolled over on his back before jumping up and chasing his tail with excitement.

  ‘Bert, stop showing off,’ Theo said affectionately. ‘Sorry he gets a bit hypo if he likes someone.’ He smiled, making her feel better. Perhaps it would be all right after all. ‘Let me take your case. Good flight?’ He took it from her and she guessed he was used to dealing with the guests who graced the chalet.

  ‘Yes thanks. Have you guests at Jacaranda now?’ She wondered what they were eating if all the cooks had eloped with clients or been fired.

  ‘They arrive tomorrow, we only had four people this week, I’ve just dropped them off here, and Dad… Lawrence,’ he grinned, ‘he is my Dad but he thinks it more professional if we don’t broadcast it about too much – he managed breakfast, but he had to buy in the dinner,’ he explained as she followed him and a bouncing Bert out into the car park and over to a midnight-blue mini coach with Chic Chalet Parties written in white along the side, the description refuelling her fears that she would not match up to Lawrence’s standards or those of his guests. Surely in her chain-store jeans, rose pink jersey and blue ski jacket she was not chic enough?

  Theo, seeing her expression, laughed, ‘Maddy, Desmond’s girlfriend, thought it up, but sadly she died before they could get the business going.’

  ‘I remember her.’ Eloise thought back to the times when she and her parents and sister had come out here to stay at Jacaranda and Maddy had been there. She was such a warm and caring person, who lit up everywhere she went. Later, after her marriage, Eloise had come a few times with Harvey and the twins. The first time the children were barely on their feet, though Harvey insisted on putting them on tiny skis, which they loved, finding it easier to slide down a small slope than to walk. Jacaranda was full of memories of happy times. She hadn’t been back for about ten years and she wondered what it would be like now.

  Theo put her case in the boot and got into the driver’s seat, she got in beside him and they started the journey towards Verbier, Bert supervising the route from behind them, growling or barking at any other dog or cat he felt should not be wandering around.

  Chatting to Theo as they drove, Eloise learnt that Verbier had grown ever larger and become one of the places to be, so Jacaranda – the chalet built by Desmond’s father with its large rooms and elegant balconies, the wood mellowed to a rich brown, weathered by the snow and the sun – could now bring in a good income by having paying guests to stay. Guests she was going to cook for.

  ‘The chalet and the land around it is worth a lot, but it’s expensive to keep up, so Lawrence took up Maddy’s idea and has turned what used to be my grandfather’s home into a business,’ Theo explained as they drove. ‘We live there too, but there’s plenty of room for guests to come and ski in the winter and to walk in the summer. There’s a sort of plan that hasn’t happened yet, to have painting or photo weeks, with experts teaching.’

  ‘That sounds good, I remember it as such a beautiful place, but it’s years since I’ve been here.’

  Eloise looked out of the window at the rather plain houses, most of which had magnolia trees in their gardens, she remembered the beauty of them when they flowered, sumptuous against the plain bark of the tree. Ahead she saw the white peaks of the mountains, sparkling in the sun under the intense blue sky. There were thick blankets of snow on the ground, on the roofs of the houses and in the gardens, but the roads were clear, piles of snow lining the edges.

  They reached the start of the mountain road and wound their way up towards the resort. She remembered the road, the frisson of fear as they rounded each corner, blind to what could be coming the opposite way, and the sheer drop beside them.

  Theo didn’t seem at all fazed by it, he chatted away, turning to her every so often to emphasize a point, sometimes lifting his hand from the wheel, and her nerves stretched tighter.

  ‘Do keep your eyes on the road,’ she said once and he laughed.

  ‘It’s OK, you’re quite safe, I wouldn’t dare return without you; Lawrence would kill me.’

  ‘If we’re not both killed before we get there,’ she muttered under her breath, imagining Kit and probably Lizzie being just as confident as Theo, thinking they were immortal.

  They reached the resort in one piece and Theo took a side road and drove on up the hill. It was lined with fir trees, their dark branches laden with snow. Below them, other chalets were scattered down the mountainside as if a huge hand had flung them there. Some were in clumps, others alone, many were decked with Christmas lights, and here and there wild fir trees were wearing strings of lights and shining baubles. Jacaranda was somewhere ahead, but she didn’t recognize the place now with so many new buildings around.

  ‘I don’t remember so many chalets when I was last here,’ she said.

  ‘There’s been a lot of building, it’s getting far too big, it’s a town really, lots of celebs come here, some even take helicopters to the slopes as they won’t go in the ski lifts like everyone else,’ Theo said, laughing.

  ‘So is Jacaranda swamped by other chalets,’ Eloise asked, wondering how far the town had spread out, climbing the mountain and invading its open spaces.

  ‘No, not yet anyway. Fortunately no one can build on the land around Jacaranda unless we sell it, so we are still quite enclosed and private.’

  The Verbier she remembered was a charming village, still inhabited by local people, farmers who grazed their cows on the grassy slopes in the summer and even tucked them into their chalets in the winter as they’d always done. Time moved on and there were bound to be changes, but she hoped the place had not lost its charm.

  It was early afternoon and the winter light would soon be fading. They drove on a little further and then turned onto a track and ahead she saw a line of fir trees strung with garlands of silver lights, picking out the dark, rich wood of Jacaranda, surrounded by pure white snow. It looked comfortable and stalwart in its place, old and distinguished among the more orange wood of the newer chalets.

  ‘Here we are.’ Theo pulled up and jumped out, Bert followed quickly behind, disappearing into the trees. ‘Welcome, Eloise,’ Theo grinned at her. ‘Welcome back.’

  He unloaded her suitcase and she followed him up to the door of the chalet, her memories of the few times she’d been here before jostling in her mind, first as a child herself, then later as a married woman and mother of small children.

  Theo opened the door and ushered her to the hall, where coats and jackets huddled together on the wall and the old cuckoo clock that had amused her as a child was still ticking beside the staircase. Alerted by the cold blast as the door opened, a man came out of one of the rooms to greet them, he was tall, his auburn hair gilded by the sun, his face lean and tanned. For a long moment he studied her, his grey eyes searing into her, as if judging whether she were indeed unattractive enough to be invisible t
o his randy guests.

  He said briskly with the semblance of a smile, ‘Eloise, good to see you. I hope you had an easy journey. Theo will show you to your room and then we’ll discuss menus. Sorry to rush you, but we’ve a party of six arriving tomorrow and we need to get in the shopping. My office is downstairs; Theo can show you if you can’t find it yourself. The place has probably changed quite a bit since you were last here.’

  ‘It has.’ The outside and the hall was much as she remembered but there was a different feeling to the place. Looking over Lawrence’s shoulder, she saw the room behind him had been enlarged and was smartly decorated and gone were the mishmash of pictures and old but comfortable chairs and sofas. She remembered the fun and laughter when Desmond and Maddy were here. When every day had been magic, surrounded by mountains, and skiing and warm, informal supper parties with games and music among friends and family, but then it was a home and now, she must realize, it was a business.

  Perhaps guessing her thoughts, Lawrence shrugged with a small, regretful smile as if to say, that’s how it was, life moves on.

  She felt way out of her comfort zone. Lawrence, she guessed, had thoughts only for his business; he’d give her no time to settle in, take things slowly.

  Her fears were confirmed when halfway down the stairs to the lower floor, he turned back, ‘I’ve invited some friends for dinner tonight, so if you can have everything ready for 8. He disappeared from sight before she could protest.

  Three

  Theo led the way upstairs to the first floor, carrying her case. The last time Eloise had been up here, she remembered, the landing had been a jumble of people’s possessions lurching out of their bedrooms. The doors to their rooms often left open as they scrambled to get ready for ski school or the slopes before the crowds descended, or into the bathroom before anyone else hogged it. Now, with no one here, it was an empty space, with all the doors closed, and a solitary beautiful blue and pale green rug lay in the centre of the landing.

  On the wall in front of her, by the staircase leading to the upper floor, hung a collection of stunning photographs of sculptures made by nature, drifts of snow blown into shapes by the wind, under a bright or stormy sky.

  ‘These are awesome,’ she said to Theo, lingering by them.

  ‘Yes, they’re Lawrence’s,’ he said, ‘one of his passions.’ He laughed, and she wondered how many other passions he had and what they were.

  She followed Theo up the staircase tucked into the corner, which she remembered led to the attics under the eaves, and she supposed that was where she was going to sleep. The space had been crammed with all sorts of things when she’d last been here: odd bits of furniture, forgotten toys, old framed photographs, heavy leather ski boots long replaced by the lighter plastic ones. Was she to bed down among all these things? Crammed in among once loved possessions now forgotten, she almost joked to Theo, but he was gesturing towards another door.

  ‘There’s a shower room there, we don’t tell the guests or they keep using it. We have three bathrooms on the first floor and a tiny shower and loo on the ground, but if everyone’s in a hurry to get out, some get annoyed at having to wait so they sneak up here.’

  ‘There weren’t so many bathrooms the last time I was here,’ Eloise said, remembering the scramble to get dressed, washed and out.

  ‘I know, but when we turned this into a business we had to put them in, people hate sharing bathrooms now, even with their own family. Some of the best chalets are all en suite but we can’t fit them in without spoiling Jacaranda’s shape by building on another wing, not yet anyway.’ Theo grinned, opening one of the attic doors. ‘Here you are, used to be full of stuff, but we’ve cleared it out, hope it’s OK. My room is there.’ He pointed across the way and she could see a muddle of clothes through the half-open door. ‘I’ll try not to wake you if I come in late,’ he added with a grin.

  ‘Thanks,’ she smiled, thinking of Kit and Lizzie who often made more noise trying to sneak into the house than just coming in normally.

  She went into the room, curious to see what past treasures might have been left as her roommates, but everything had long gone, she couldn’t recognize it now. They used to try and hide up here when they played sardines. Then you could barely get one person concealed in the room among the junk, let alone any more who discovered the hiding space. She was surprised that the room was quite large with its old-fashioned double bed and its carved wooden headboard painted dark green with a posy of alpine flowers in the centre. She hoped the mattress was younger.

  Theo guessed her thoughts for he said, ‘Lawrence bought the bed in a sale, it’s an original one, but don’t worry the mattress is new.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ she said, dropping her coat and handbag on the cream bedcover.

  An ancient built-in cupboard took up much of one wall and a faded but comfy-looking armchair and a desk in the corner lined the other. Peering out of the small window, she saw the peaks of the mountains in the distance and the roofs of other chalets scattered over the steep slope beneath them down to the village.

  ‘It’s fine, thank you.’ She turned to Theo, who having dumped her case on the bed now hovered in the doorway. ‘I’ll be down in a moment, I’ll unpack later.’ Perhaps she wouldn’t unpack completely in case Lawrence, who, at first glance, she felt, did not take prisoners, decided to send her home once he realized she was not the master chef his father had led him to believe.

  ‘See you in a minute then, I have to take you to the shops when Lawrence has told you what he wants,’ Theo said, increasing her anxiety. He grinned and left her and she heard him running down stairs. She liked Theo, he reminded her of her own children, full of life and so eager to please. She stared out of the window thinking of them, wishing they were here, her confidence, so brittle since Harvey had upped and left her, waning even more. But it was no good, she had a job to do and she must go down and speak with Lawrence.

  Should she take some of the cookbooks she’d brought with her to suggest menus or would that appear too amateur? How did real chefs behave?

  She caught sight of the savage beauty of the mountains like a snapshot in the small window – she was here and she had to get on with it.

  She had a quick wash and brush up and, taking one of her files containing home recipes, she went down to the next floor, taking a moment or two more to admire Lawrence’s photographs before going on down to the ground floor.

  She paused when she reached the hall. The door to the living room was open so she went in. to see it properly. She remembered there had been two rooms here before, but now it had been knocked into one she had to agree it created a sumptuous space with the huge window framing a stunning view. The room opened out to a veranda, which ran the length of it, so there was space to sit out, even eat out, in the summer, with a breathtaking view over the valley. The living room had a large wood fire and comfortable sofas and chairs, with well-stocked bookcases and lamps on small tables. On one side, by the huge window, was a dining table and chairs, enough to seat ten.

  But Lawrence was waiting, no doubt impatiently, for her and she mustn’t start out on a bad note. She put her memories of the times she was last here on hold and went down the stairs to the basement floor. Theo was nowhere to be seen, but one of the doors was open and she could see Lawrence sitting at a desk, so she went in.

  He was on the phone, he glanced up and gestured to a chair by the window and she pulled it round to face him and sat down. This side of the chalet had been dug out so there was plenty of daylight and it seemed not to have changed much since she was last here. She remembered there used to be a snooker table somewhere down here beside the washing machines, wine cellar and some storage space.

  She was rather miffed that Lawrence was continuing with his telephone call when he expected her to find a menu for tonight, go down to the village to do the shopping and cook it all within a matter of hours.

  ‘Lovely, Aurelia,’ he purred, ‘they sound delicious; I’ll let
you know how we get on. See you very soon.’ He rang off finally.

  Aurelia. She remembered Theo telling her on the way up here about Aurelia who had a business that produced ready-made dishes. She was, by the sound of Lawrence’s voice and the gleam in his eyes, someone he had a close relationship with. Perhaps she was hoping to provide more of her dishes, and even much more besides. Was Aurelia standing by ready to snatch her place if Eloise failed? Though why hadn’t he used her in the first place and saved himself the price of a plane ticket?

  Lawrence smiled at her, a kind sort of smile often bestowed on lesser mortals, who, through no fault of their own, were deemed to be inferior beings. Eloise remembered meeting him with Desmond years ago, before she was married. He was far better looking and more together than the other boys she knew, though then she’d thought him arrogant, but obviously other girls did not for he always seemed to have a stunning woman about his person.

  She studied him covetously. No doubt having glowing skin and an agile body from spending so much time on the slopes enhanced his good looks.

  ‘I’m so relieved you’ve been able to come, Eloise,’ he said, barely looking up from the papers on his desk. ‘Christmas is the most difficult and the most important time of the year to have a good chef and we had a disaster here.’ He faced her now, frowning as if warning her not to cause any disasters herself.

  ‘I’m sure Desmond filled you in with the details, so we needn’t go into them again. All the best chefs are booked up, have been for months for Christmas, but he says you are just what we want, so…’

  ‘I feel I should say,’ Eloise interrupted him, butterflies fluttering a war dance inside her, ‘that I only did a short cordon bleu course, a Foundation course just after I left school.’

  Lawrence’s frown grew deeper; lines folding in round his eyes. ‘But you must have cooked since then,’ his voice held a hint of desperation.