A Season in the Snow

by Isla Gordon

  ‘I think we can manage this lot.’ She closed the boot, locked the car, and stopped. More specifically, Bear stopped. He sat down and refused to move.

  ‘Bear, come on, it’s cold, let’s get in the cable car.’

  He whined back at the car.

  ‘Are you kidding me? You couldn’t wait to see the back of it earlier!’ Alice tried to pull him but instead he lay his tummy down in the snow, not breaking eye contact. ‘Oh my God, are you actually lying down to stop me from moving you? Bear, we can’t stay here. What’s the problem?’

  Nothing. Nothing but a fixed stare and a big sigh.

  She opened the back of the car again to fetch a bag of his treats she knew was in there somewhere, something she could use as a bribe, and Bear leapt up, pushed his head around her and clutched his bed with his teeth.

  ‘Don’t eat that, it’s your bed,’ cried Alice. But Bear was already pulling it out of the car. She wrestled with him to try and stuff it back in, but he wasn’t letting go. ‘You are so stubborn. Come on, I can’t carry that as well, we’ll get it in the morning.’ She waved a treat under his nostrils, which he ignored.

  ‘I am not carrying these bags, and you, and that whopping great bed tonight. I’m tired, and it’s dark, and we don’t know where we’re going. I’m not doing it.’

  Five minutes later, Alice was trying to hold her temper as she carried her bags, the dog lead, and the whopping great bed to the exit of the car park. Bear skipped along next to her, pleased with himself for getting his own way.

  At the entrance to the station, Alice put down the bed that was wedged precariously under her lead-wielding arm and studied a map and a timetable before giving up and making her way to the counter, leaving everything but the dog in a heap by some stairs.

  ‘Hello,’ she said to the lady manning the enclosed ticket booth, wrapped in a thick black jacket. ‘We need to go to Mürren?’

  ‘Do you ski?’ the lady asked.

  ‘Not really,’ answered Alice.

  ‘If you want I will give you return ticket with pass to use the cable cars and chairlifts as much as you wish?’

  ‘Actually, I just want a one-way. I have to collect some more things from my car tomorrow, but other than that I’m not coming back down.’

  ‘Oh okay!’ The lady pressed a few buttons and Bear balanced on his back legs to put his paws up on the counter, the nosy thing. ‘Hello,’ the lady addressed him. ‘You are moving to the mountain too?’

  Alice nodded. ‘We’re here for the winter.’

  ‘Wonderful. You will love it very much.’

  The lady pointed Alice and Bear up the stairs to the waiting area, under a large sign that read, Gimmelwald-Mürren-Birg-Schilthorn. To reach the very top of the mountain, the Schilthorn, you needed to take four different cable cars. Alice dragged their belongings up the steps, hoping the change at Gimmelwald wouldn’t take long. She needed a wee.

  They had about twenty-five minutes to wait (twenty-three minutes, to be precise, and from what she’d heard of Swiss rail travel, precise was how it would be running) and the waiting area was deserted. The cold air crept in through the wooden-panelled walls, and she could see her and Bear’s breath billowing in front of their noses. The lights were stark and large black and white images of the mountains acted as decoration alongside a Nescafé hot drinks dispenser and a vending machine containing interesting Swiss nibbles.

  ‘Ovomaltine,’ she whispered aloud, reading an orange-wrappered chocolate bar. Was that the same as Ovaltine? Did they have Ovaltine chocolate here?

  She led Bear to a large window and peered outside, straining to see if she could make out a cable car approaching from the heavens. Bear jumped up, paws on the window, which she probably shouldn’t let him do but he was a nice hugging height when he was all stretched tall like this.

  Outside was the inky outline of the Eiger, one of the most impressive mountains in the Bernese Alps. Barely visible at this time of night, it was almost impossible to imagine the scale.

  ‘Wait until you see it in daylight,’ said an accented man’s voice, and Alice turned to see a cableway worker sweeping the clean floor of the terminal. ‘You are just visiting, yes?’

  ‘Sort of, we’re staying a while.’

  ‘Showing your handsome dog where he is from?’ The man bent down to say hi to Bear.

  ‘Yep,’ said Alice. ‘It’s really quiet around here, though, I was expecting more tourists.’

  ‘The snow it came earlier than expected this year. All the holiday companies will be trying to pull in their staff and start the ski season as soon as they can. You will have a lot of company up there in no time.’ He smiled and went back to work.

  Alice turned back to the window and snuggled into Bear. ‘Until then it’s just me and you, okay? Shall we go up the mountain?’

  Chapter 20

  Two very immaculate and very on-time modes of public transport later, with the easiest change ever (a hop across the platform at Gimmelwald where the next cable car was ready and waiting), they were officially in Mürren, and the doors would be opening in three . . . two . . . one . . .

  Alice heaved and pulled all of their belongings, including Bear himself, out of the door of the cable car, her heart racing in case she couldn’t do it in time. She needn’t have worried; the cable car operator, her only companion as they’d drifted the slow, dark, journey up the mountain, seemed in no rush to head back down again.

  They emerged into a large, modern building, not that dissimilar to a small UK train station, with some waiting areas, an information desk and a (closed) newsagents-slash-café-slash-gift shop. A cold breeze seeped in through the large automatic doors, and Alice took a moment to rearrange her belongings and dig her phone out of her coat pocket. She flipped open the map app which was preloaded with directions to Vanessa’s chalet, and turned on the spot a few times, getting her bearings.

  ‘Okay, Bear. It’s an easy route but it’s going to take about thirteen minutes to walk it. And then we’ll be finally at our new home.’ She was so tired. Tired of travelling, tired of worrying. But she was so nearly there, so she picked herself and her bags up, now balancing her phone in the cup of her glove also, and they exited together into Mürren.

  When she stepped outside, something very small in Alice changed. The streets, lost under a thick white blanket, were quiet, and the snow without footprints. All the chalets seemed empty and lightless, but for pretty fairy lights arranged under roofs, and strings of LED snowflakes framing the path overhead. Only the street lights hummed, and when she looked up she saw fine snowflakes falling past the glow.

  It was a different world and it filled her eyes and heart, a million miles from the too-wet or too-hot streets of London where in every footstep she felt the deep echo of the ones that Jill left no more. Here her footprints felt like they were hers and hers alone.

  Alice held Bear’s lead tightly as she trudged and dragged and hunched ever forward, the ending an unfamiliar distance away. Her dog pulled her in zigzags, investigating the new smells, sticking his whole head into snowdrifts, flinging clumps of it up with his nose. Her heart burned and her breath was short from the altitude, and her body sweated under her thick snow jacket.

  The walk was difficult and slow, but all of that hardship wasn’t even registering as Alice was completely in the moment, drinking it all in. She’d never seen so much snow. It was easily a foot, maybe two-foot deep on top of all of the sloped chalet roofs. It swept up the sides of wooden walls and slept upon windowsills. To her right those mountains, grey against the silken black sky, loomed like friends watching over her as she and her dog made their lonely journey.

  Eventually she reached the other train station, and she knew she was near. She veered to the left and followed the slope of the hill up, panting, checking the map on her phone, bumping into Bear, hearing the snap and crackle of her shoulder muscles as they worked to pull the loaded suitcase those last few steps.

  And there it was – Vanessa�
�s front door. The chalet lights had been left on inside and it was like a glowing lighthouse welcoming her safe passage home. She took a moment to look back at the mountain and the village behind her, and catch her breath.

  Alice found the key, right where Vanessa had said it would be underneath a wooden bear cub statue perched on the decking, and opened the door. A fat sprinkling of snow fell from the doorframe onto her head, but she didn’t mind, she’d made it. Entering the chalet, she dumped her bags, set Bear free from his lead, and closed her door behind her, sinking to the ground and leaning her aching back against it.

  She took in the surroundings, while Bear scurried in and out of her vision, nosing around every corner and every room in the house.

  From her viewpoint on the floor, Alice found herself in a large, open-plan living room straight out of an Abercrombie & Fitch winter commercial. Ashy cedar-wood walls and a high, sloped ceiling surrounded her. A snuggly-looking jade corner sofa wrapped around a wood burner which, though unlit, was still emitting a festive, smoky scent into the air. Slung over various parts of the sofa and armchairs were a zillion blankets – tartan ones, faux fur, fleece. Behind the sofa was a long dining table, and behind that, the kitchen area. To her left was a staircase leading to the second level (she was living in a real house!) and to her right floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto darkness sprinkled with a line of street lights, presumably where she’d just traipsed.

  ‘We live here now,’ she told Bear. ‘Sort of, for a while at least.’

  Bear stopped and looked at her, his big triangle ears pointing forwards. He bounced on the spot, ready to play a game now he was free of the car and the lead.

  ‘In a minute, and I’ll get you some dinner soon, too. And some water. I just need one minute.’ She let her eyelids close, her head propping back against the door.

  She heard him before she felt him, that impending pant, those padding paws. And splat, the wet-sponge-like nose prodded her cheek. Wake up, lady, Bear seemed to be saying. Don’t you know it’s play/dinner/exploring time?

  ‘Okay.’ Alice sighed, standing and running her fingers through his ears. Even when he was annoying she still couldn’t resist him.

  Alice reached down and untied her boots, Bear batting at her feet, stepping over her legs and chewing on the laces as she did so. She kicked them off and left them on the floor, which would be fatal to the shoes if she left them too long, and hauled herself back up to pad towards the kitchen. She filled Bear’s water and food bowl, placing them for now by the back door.

  Alice trailed her fingers over the counter tops that she would make breakfasts and dinners on, the mugs she would drink morning coffee from, the clock she’d glance at to see the time from all the way over in the living room. She perched on a bar stool at the kitchen island, and imagined herself treating it like her own, sitting with one leg curled under her, her art materials spread out on the surface of the island.

  Hmm.

  ‘How long do you think it will take for us to feel like this is more home than holiday home, Bear?’ she asked aloud. ‘We’ll be here for about six months. Even with Vanessa coming back and forth we’re bound to get comfy, right?’

  He finished his food and took a long, loud, slurp of water.

  ‘Maybe not, like, our-own-London-flat-comfy, if you know what I mean. But, happy-comfy. Fresh surroundings-comfy. Let the daylight in-comfy.’

  Bear wandered over to her and flopped down on the ground by her feet, his own tired, heavy body thudding, and his eyes were closed in contentment within moments.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you’re already there,’ said Alice, and she stretched across the island to reach a notepad with a letter scrawled on the open page.

  Sali Alice!

  I am so sorry we didn’t see each other before I had to leave. This weather! We haven’t had this much snow this early for a really long time, so I just couldn’t leave it any longer before I set off. I hope you and Bear didn’t arrive too late. Text me when you are home, okay? I need to know my soft British visitors are safe!

  I don’t know what food and drink you like so I just bought some things for now but there’s a little shop in the village – you’ll find it. Look to your right – I leave some house instructions for you, plus a leaflet about good walking trails so you + dog can explore. I also leave him some dog treats because I love him so much already.

  You can think of me tomorrow morning starting my first tour group! I will feed them cheese for breakfast, which you tourists always find funny. I will see you for lots of wine and kisses and talking in 2 weeks, I’ll let you know exact date I’ll be back as soon as possible.

  Kisses for now,

  Vanessa xxx

  There was a kindness in Vanessa that echoed that of Jill. The type of kindness that made her willing to give her home over to Alice, who really was no more than a memory to her. This is just the type of thing her best friend would have done, and that thought filled Alice with warmth.

  Like a candle flame, it was flickering, and it was delicate, but Alice was finding that thoughts of Jill that a few weeks ago would have brought darkness were now bringing light.

  Chapter 21

  Alice woke early the next morning, the first day of November, with the air in the guest bedroom biting. Her thin PJs, used to only having to withstand the warm flat nestled between floors and walls of other flats, were not proving their worth. It was only when she sat and pulled at the thick, furry blanket at the end of the bed that she realised it wasn’t that early after all – it was nearly eight.

  Alice wrapped herself in the blanket. Did she even wake up in the night? She couldn’t have slept right through . . . could she? It had been months since she’d been able to do that. It must have been the quiet up here in the mountains.

  Across the room, on cue, Bear let out his low, moo-like groan and stretched and opened his eyes to peep at her. Seeing her sitting up he got to his feet and did an impressive downward dog followed by a loud shake that ran from his flappy ears through to the tip of his plume of a tail.

  ‘Good morning,’ Alice said to him. ‘I didn’t even hear you thumping about in the night – did you sleep all the way through as well?’

  Her bladder twanged to tell her that yes, she did sleep all the way through, and please could she get up now, thank you.

  Bear followed her to the en suite bathroom and watched her wee. She yawned as she did her business. ‘We’re going to go for a big walk in a minute, mister. You must be desperate for a run-around. We’ll just have some breakfast first and take a look at how to warm the house up a little.’

  When she was done, she dragged two jumpers from her suitcase and, shivering, headed down the stairs, Bear thumping down in front of her. At the bottom, she stopped in her tracks.

  ‘Bloody hell!’

  Light. Natural light filled her space in a way it hadn’t in months. The vista she faced, framed in all its glory by the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, was magnificent. The pale dawn sky basked proudly behind the jagged mountain range that rose on the other side of the valley, the white peaks of the Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau painted golden on the very tips from the rising sun. Sleeping before her and back along the length of the village that sat halfway up the mountain was a sweep of chocolate-box chalets, their sloped roofs each under a duvet of snow. Pine trees popped up from the ground in all directions, like Christmas trees on holiday.

  Despite the temperature, Alice opened the side door and stepped out on to a wide balcony. Bear followed, and leant against her left leg, keeping her scar warm. She’d been hiding in a box, cramped and too small, and darkened by the little windows and narrow London street with its engulfing buildings. And now it was as if the box had been torn open and she had all the light and space she didn’t know she needed.

  Alice could see for miles. She could breathe deep lungfuls of cold air, and she wanted to. The sky seemed huge, the snowy pathways seemed endless. Bear could run anywhere. She could run anywhere. />
  She ran her fingers through Bear’s fur, a million miles away from home, and one step closer to feeling normal again.

  ‘Change of plans. Shall we go for a walk first?’ Alice suggested, a few minutes later. Bear jumped to attention, his tail wagging, and he beamed up at her. ‘Don’t look at me like that, I know it’s usually you telling me it’s time to go. But I quite fancy exploring, and I’ve also got a craving for something warm and sweet for brekkie, if we can find a bakery.’

  She clung on tight as another optical fibre inside her lit up, similar to the one that had sparked her into coming on this trip in the first place. The ones that were pulsing messages to her to choose happy. It was such a small change, the want for something tasty for breakfast, rather than just ‘whatever there was’.

  They padded back inside and up the stairs, Bear pushing to walk in front of her and stopping every few steps to check he was going the right way. In the bedroom, Alice emptied the contents of her suitcase out onto the floor (she could put it away later, she had all the time in the world!) and Bear leapt on a pair of ski socks to skitter about with while she got dressed. She pulled on thick tights, a cosy knitted jumper dress with a thermal vest underneath, some ski socks – not the ones currently getting slobbered over – and her new Roxy snow boots and snow jacket. She even gave her scar a caring little touch with her finger before it disappeared into her tights. It was part of her, after all.

  ‘Come on then, sock thief,’ she said to Bear, and descended the stairs like a Michelin man. Alice found her hat and gloves on the table, loaded up with dog treats, poop bags, Swiss francs and good spirits, and popped Bear’s collar and lead on him.

  The moment she opened the front door a crack, Bear’s nose was through it, shoving his way into the shallow snowdrift that had settled in front of Vanessa’s home overnight. He sunk his snout into the powdery cold, picking his paws one at a time through the flakes. It crunched underfoot as Alice navigated spinning on the spot, performing a Tonya Harding-impressive triple axel as she held Bear’s lead, locked the door and pulled out her phone to snap a photo or five.