A Season in the Snow

by Isla Gordon

  Great furballs hunkered into corners, surfaces were dusty, mirrors and windows were grimy and the smell of dog hung in the air. The only parts of the house that seemed well maintained were those that directly affected the dog, as if her own living space hadn’t mattered to her.

  Alice was clearing out her bathroom cupboards, and was about to throw a half-used bottle of Neal’s Yard bubble bath into the bin, when she stopped herself. Maybe it would be nice to have a bath for a change. The house was chilly because she had all the windows open for Bear, and the thought of encasing herself in warm water seemed indulgent, yes, but like something she could allow herself to do.

  She pushed the cardboard box she was packing aside and threw on the taps. If she didn’t do it now this bubble bath would probably end up in the bin after all. Then she pulled a couple of other just-packed, not-used-in-months things back out of the box – a body scrub, a face mask, a razor.

  As the bath ran she pottered back down the corridor to find Bear, and was glad to see he was still snoozing away beneath one of the open windows.

  Alice helped herself to a glass of wine and returned to the bathroom, dropping her clothes on the floor and sliding into the warmth. She closed her eyes and breathed.

  Sometimes you just know when you’re being watched. Cracking her eyes back open she faced Bear’s nose, centimetres from her own, stretching over the side of the bath. His chest fur dangled over the edge and was speckled with bubbles.

  ‘Now I know for a fact you don’t want to get in this bath,’ she told him. ‘I was left with scars last time we bathed together.’

  Bear rested his chin on the lip of the bath and continued to stare at her.

  ‘I mean they were very tiny scars compared with this big mutha,’ she lifted her leg a little to show him. ‘But still. I don’t want any more.’

  He backed away a little and whined.

  ‘Hey, it’s okay.’ Alice reached her hand out of the bath towards him and he came forward again to lick at it. ‘I don’t mind having baths, they’re only bad when they’re happening to you.’

  He whined again and turned in the small space, bumping the door, and then looked back at her, willing her to come with him.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she repeated. ‘It’s okay that you can’t get to me. I’m fine.’

  Bear signed and sat down on the floor, staring into the bathroom and panting. This slightly killed the mood, but she continued nonetheless, keeping up the chatter to comfort him.

  ‘Look, this body scrub is lime flavour,’ she babbled, explaining every step she was taking. ‘It smells yummy.’ Lifting her leg from the water again she very carefully ran the scrub over the length of her wound, treating it with attention she hadn’t really bestowed upon it until now. She spent a long time running her hand back and forth over it, long after the scrub had washed away. By this point Bear had flopped into a lying position, but his eyes were still open and watching her.

  Alice shampooed her hair and then dipped her head back into the bath. She knew bath water wouldn’t really clean it properly, but whatever. Sinking her ears below the surface she closed her eyes and imagined a world where everything was silent again. Not just silent from outside noise, but from the internal noise, the memories, the worries.

  Something pressed firmly against her forehead and she shot out of the water to see Bear back leaning over the bath, his spongy nose damp. He woofed, as if angry at her for scaring him like that. ‘All right, I’ll get out.’ Alice pulled the plug and shuffled out of the bath and into a towel before Bear could completely dry her skin with his tongue. They bumped past each other going out of the bathroom. ‘Let’s hope Vanessa’s bathroom is more spacious, huh?’

  A card arrived the following morning, the day before she was due to move out. It was marked first class, somebody trying to get something to her before it was too late.

  Alice opened the card in her nearly empty flat, giving the envelope to Bear to rip into shreds. She put her hand over her mouth when she realised it was from Jill’s parents.

  Dear Alice,

  Your mum and dad told us about your trip, and we wanted to wish you safe and happy travels. We’re so grateful to you taking on Jill’s beloved dog and taking such good care of him, and she often spoke about how much she wanted him to see Switzerland and ‘get completely covered in snow’.

  We also wanted to give you something, and we’ve left it so late so that you have no time to give it back. Please find enclosed a cheque. Jill put aside some savings during her last few months especially for the trip you and she planned to take. She was so excited about that trip, and we want you to take that money to put towards living costs out there. We really owe you so much more for all of the expense I’m sure Bear has cost you (your mum also told us about those brownies!) and if you ever need anything please let us know. You’ve been like a second daughter to us for all of Jill’s life, and that doesn’t need to stop.

  Please have a wonderful time, send photos, and enjoy this adventure on behalf of Jill.

  Much love xxx

  Alice was floored. They didn’t need to do this, she didn’t deserve this kindness. But what a lovely, warm gesture it was. She would use the money wisely, and take their letter with her.

  It was time to say some goodbyes.

  Alice wrote a letter in return to Jill’s parents, thanking them and promising to fulfil their daughter’s dreams while she was out there. She called each of her friends in turn and had short, but sweet, conversations, promising she’d see them soon. Her parents were the hardest to leave, a deep worry that came from knowing the worst could always happen tucking itself inside of her, something she knew she’d carry with her now whether she was three or three thousand miles away.

  But it was the cusp of November, and she’d be back to visit for Christmas in less than two months. She knew she needed this.

  She was leaving today. The belongings that she knew she wouldn’t need had been taken to her parents’ house, and her flat was all but cleared out, apart from a few things from her dresser still to pack in a bag which she was taking with her.

  ‘It’s so strange to see this place so empty,’ she said to Bear, who was licking at the skirting boards. ‘Turns out partially furnished instead of fully furnished would have given you lots more room.’

  Alice pulled open her sock drawer and tipped the contents onto the floor. Something she’d all but forgotten rolled out and across the floor.

  Reaching forward, Alice picked up the lipstick with two fingers. The cap was scratched from that time she’d run over it with the hoover last year. The label was faded from having rubbed against the inside of her handbag every day since she’d first bought it. The sliver of a crack from where the lid met the base was lined with the soil that had permeated everything during the crush. Why had she clung on to this like it was important? What strange things people did when they didn’t know what to do.

  She couldn’t help herself. She placed it in her left hand and closed her fingers around the lipstick, waiting with a sick fascination to see if the nightmare images would return, eclipsing her view of her current reality. But they didn’t.

  Instead, Bear got up from his spot on the floor and wandered over to see what she was looking at that wasn’t him. He grabbed a pair of bundled socks in his mouth, but dropped them soon enough to snuffle his nose against her closed fist until she agreed to open it.

  ‘This lipstick was my favourite lipstick in the world for a long time,’ she told him, letting him sniff it with curiosity. ‘I used to wear it every day. And I had it with me the day we lost your mum. Your other mum.’

  Bear sat down to listen, so she continued. ‘They said I was still holding this when I was looking for her. Clutching hold of it, like it was important – temporary paralysis or something. Isn’t that silly? It’s a lipstick. It’s just a lipstick.’ Alice took a big breath. ‘Why did I hold onto this, and not her?’

  Stretching his neck forward, Bear picked up the lipstick from h
er hand using his teeth, and dropped it onto the carpet, watching it roll. He pushed it with his nose and it rolled off under her dresser. Bear looked pleased with himself for removing the memory.

  Alice fished the lipstick back out, though. It was either coming with them or going in the bin, there was no other option now. She put it back inside a sock, and put the sock into her suitcase, even though she might never wear the shade again. She was leaving today, and her baggage was coming along with her.

  She took a final look at the four walls of her bedroom, memories floating inside her head. ‘I hope I’m going to miss this place someday.’

  Chapter 17

  ‘Just hold on a minute, Bear, I know I put them in here somewhere,’ Alice said, one hand holding Bear’s lead, the other deep in between the stack of bags, dog paraphernalia and snacks that filled the boot of her car.

  Bear was straining to get at a discarded crisp on the ground inside the Eurotunnel terminal, his paws sliding on the lacquered flooring. Finally she pulled out a handful of poop bags. ‘Just in case,’ she said to him, and shut and locked the car, taking Bear for a bit of exercise before they made the crossing and left England behind them.

  ‘Look, a St Bernard,’ someone cried not far away.

  They’d only been driving for two hours so far, Islington to Folkestone being relatively easy, but Alice was relieved at how chilled Bear had been in the car. Much more so than she, who had needed to pull in twice for drive-thru Starbucks to calm her nerves and stop herself from turning around and going straight back to her parents’ house.

  After a vigorous run about a lovely big dog exercise area, Alice went to the pet reception, where Bear couldn’t have been made to feel more welcome. Then it was back in the car, drive the car into the Shuttle, and thirty-five minutes later they’d be in France. How easy it was to run away. She could almost feel the Channel breeze calling her off this little island.

  ‘So this is the plan,’ she told Bear an hour later, who seemed no more interested in urban Calais than he had been in urban Folkestone. He raised his orange eyebrows at her from the back seat, where he lay hunkered down in his travel hammock. She smoothed the map out on the passenger seat, just in case she needed to see the bigger picture. ‘I’ve put into the satnav the whole route from here to Vanessa’s house, which is nearly ten hours of driving time. We can’t do that all in one day, so we’ll spread it over two, depending on how you get on. Let’s get going and see how far we get before you become restless, okay?’

  Bear yawned and closed his eyes, looking as comfy as if he were back in her now empty flat, squished between the sofa and coffee table.

  ‘When we start to get bored of driving, I’ll find a nice place for us to spend the night.’ She was talking to herself now (was she always?) as she pulled the car away from the Eurotunnel terminal and began winding her way through Calais, thinking carefully over the rules of French roads and reminding herself to drive on the right.

  As city turned to suburbs which turned to countryside, Alice relaxed into the seat, a freeness tingling through the back of her neck and down her spine. It felt good to be making a change. She hadn’t felt brave for a while, and now finally she was doing something to survive, and to live.

  ‘You know,’ she said to Bear, peeping at him in the rear-view mirror. He opened an eye and looked towards her. ‘Your mum, your first mum, always wanted to take you on a road trip to Switzerland. She talked about it before you even lived with her. I was going to go with her. So this was always written in your stars.’

  He stretched comfortably and closed his eyes again.

  For the next couple of hours, Alice let her mind drift as she followed long French motorways. For the first time in what felt like a long while she found she was thinking ahead instead of back. Picturing what was to come instead of what had been. She imagined Bear’s little (big) paws dipping into snow for the first time. She thought about how clean the mountain air would seem compared to London. She pictured all the cheese in Switzerland oozing deliciously into her belly.

  Bear was getting shuffly in the back and let out a whine, so she pulled off at the next exit to let him out for a wee. But he didn’t seem to need to go, and instead hung close to her and refused any water.

  ‘Did you just need to stretch your legs a little? Shall we get back in and carry on now?’

  They climbed back in the car, but Alice had only been back on the road for ten minutes when Bear whined again, and then promptly threw up all over his bed on the back seat.

  ‘Oh no, oh Bear, you poor thing, please don’t lie down in it, please please please.’

  Alice pulled off again and using a mixture of poop bags, wet wipes and dog towels, cleaned the sick up as best she could, only for the same thing to happen again shortly after they resumed their journey.

  ‘Well, one thing I didn’t factor in was you getting car sick.’

  She stopped the car again, cleaned up, and this time lay a big towel over the whole bed. She got out her phone.

  ‘We haven’t covered as much ground as I’d hoped today, but we’ve got all day tomorrow. Shall we call that it and then set off early in the morning? I’ll be more prepared for puppukage tomorrow, just in case.’

  Alice looked on the Airbnb app for nearby pet-friendly accommodation. ‘Where even are we?’ she asked aloud.

  GPS told her she was not far from a little village in the Champagne region. ‘I’m not adverse to that,’ she told Bear, and clicked onto a listing that seemed reasonably priced. ‘What do you think of this – a private room with a salle de bain inside a chateau! Fancy staying in a castle tonight, Bear? Will that suit you and your dodgy stomach?’ The advantage of a castle, along with it being quite interesting and hopefully laced with free champagne, was that it would hopefully be cold, which would suit Bear to a tee if he was currently a bit hot and uncomfortable.

  It was decided. The chateau, divided into apartments, with bricks the colour of champagne itself, shuttered windows and two spiky turrets, had an instant book feature, which was perfect for a girl and her dog wanting to check in within the next twenty minutes. She booked it without another thought, and then drove slowly down the lanes towards the address, hoping not to disturb Bear’s stomach any further.

  ‘Look at this, Bear,’ she said as they pulled up.

  In the low afternoon sunlight it was even more beautiful than the photos had suggested, surrounded by tall trees and the quiet you can only seem to find on grand estates in the countryside.

  Bear hopped out of the car and as Alice was just thinking how quiet it was and how the air was fragranced with distant wood burning, Bear ran straight to the middle of the lawn for a poop. Alice chased after him, bag in hand, peeping up at the chateau windows for disapproving guests.

  ‘Thanks for that,’ she said to him, leading him to the front of the house. The door creaked pleasingly and she was surprised to see a reception on the inside, where she checked in as if it were a hotel. The host, an attractive man with extremely tight trousers and a touchy-feely attitude with her dog, showed them to their room.

  ‘Here you go,’ he said with a rich accent. ‘This is for you.’ He produced a small welcome basket out of nowhere for Alice, containing macarons and madeleines, and a tiny bottle of champagne. ‘And this is for you.’ He crouched down and gave Bear a thousand kisses, plus his own welcome basket of star-shaped dog biscuits.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ said Alice, and bid the man a bon nuit. She realised there was no restaurant on site, nor for a few miles, and she didn’t want to get back in the car, so that evening she and Bear forced themselves to relax for the night. She gave Bear his pre-packed meal while she munched away on biscuits and champagne, and they whiled away the hours watching French TV together without knowing what was going on. Then they slept, with Bear below the large single-paned window and Alice with several layers on. It was good training for the mountain, she thought, as the champagne bubbles floated about in her until she drifted to dreamland.
r />   Chapter 18

  The following morning the weather had turned, and a low, damp fog hung over the north-east of France. Alice wanted to get going early, so she gave Bear just a tiny amount of breakfast.

  He glowered at her.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, mister, but after yesterday’s performance I’m not risking you in my car on a full stomach. For both our sakes. I’ll top you up when we stop for loo breaks.’

  They said au revoir to the chateau and joined the motorway again that would take them down through France and into Switzerland. It was slow-going, the visibility causing everyone, not least Alice, to crawl along. That, combined with the extra hours of driving she’d have to be putting in today, caused Alice to keep one eye on the road, and one on the clock.

  Thankfully, Bear seemed to be getting on much better today, stomach-wise, and seemed almost in a huff when Alice pulled over on the outskirts of a small village to give him a water break.

  ‘We don’t have long, okay? Out you get,’ she encouraged him, and he sighed and eventually jumped from the car and sniffed at the small bowl of water she’d put out.

  It was now midday, although the sky was the same thick, ash-grey it had been all morning, with not a trace of sunshine breaking through the clouds. They were still crawling through rural France, and it would be at least a couple of hours if not more by the time they hit the Swiss border.

  Alice called Vanessa.

  Vanessa answered on the first ring. ‘Hi Alice, how is your journey?’

  ‘Slow and foggy,’ answered Alice, while Bear raised his nose to the damp sky.

  ‘Foggy? It’s very beautiful here on our mountain today – how far away are you?’

  ‘We’re still in France because we didn’t get as far as I would have liked yesterday.’