A Season in the Snow

by Isla Gordon

  Marco stood up and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Don’t feel bad. Take a break, visit your parents. We are so happy to be looking after a big Bernese, you have no idea.’

  ‘Will you let me know that he’s okay?’

  ‘I’ll send you a thousand photos a day.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll miss me?’

  ‘He’s going to miss you a lot,’ Marco replied, looking into her eyes. ‘So much, but it’s Christmas Eve, and you fly back on Boxing Day. He’ll cope without you for two nights.’

  ‘We’re going to keep him completely distracted and occupied,’ David said, as Marco picked up her bag for her.

  Alice knelt down and nuzzled into Bear, who stood in front of her pressing his huge furry head into her chest while she rubbed behind his ears. ‘Have a very merry Christmas, Bear. I’ll be back in two sleeps. I hope you have a brilliant time with the other boys.’

  Bear lifted his head and beamed at her, his big brown eyes looking right into hers with such wide innocence. She stroked his cheeks, marbled with white and rust fur, and he stretched his head forward to sniff her face as close as he could get. Finally he pulled his head back, and wrapped a wet mouth around her arm which was his version of a Swiss kiss.

  Tears threatened the back of Alice’s eyes when she stood and waved goodbye to the dog. How ridiculous, she tried to tell herself.

  David produced a dog biscuit from his pocket and Bear’s attention was pulled away. He stood on his hind legs, his paws on David’s shoulders, to eat it from his hands. Marco, and Alice, then left the chalet.

  Out on the snow they crunched their way towards the station. After the Zurich trip she’d managed to park back at Lauterbrunnen, so she didn’t have far to go this morning. ‘You don’t need to carry my bag down there if you want to get back,’ Alice said.

  ‘It’s my pleasure,’ he answered. ‘I wanted to check how you were really feeling.’

  ‘It’s silly . . . he’s just not been on his own at night since I took him in. I hope he sleeps okay.’

  ‘Him, or you?’

  ‘A little of both,’ she confessed.

  ‘Is there anything else on your mind?’ They kept walking while Alice thought about how to answer his question.

  ‘Here I’m in a snow globe. Back in England I feel exposed.’

  ‘I understand that. Is there anything about going back you are looking forward to, that you can focus on?’

  ‘I really want to see my parents, and I’m looking forward to the familiarity and traditions. Those things just keep getting gnawed away at by that feeling of going back to the place that on the other hand brought so much misery.’ They reached the station. ‘I am such a Debbie Downer. Sorry. Merry Christmas Eve, Marco.’

  ‘You are no downer, you are human. I don’t have the answers, but I hope your journey goes well, and I hope you enjoy your family, and I hope you come back on Boxing Day feeling better.’

  ‘I am so rubbish. I’m moaning about seeing my family and you don’t even get to see yours until after the big day.’

  ‘Not at all. Merry Christmas, Alice.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, Marco. Thank you for everything.’

  Alice reached up to hug him and they held each other a moment longer than necessary. Take care of my Bear, she was trying to tell him through her arms. He’s all I have. And when they pulled back she kissed his cheek which was stubbly and warm. Everything about Marco was warm.

  But still they held on, perhaps just for a couple of seconds, but long enough for the lightest snowflake of a kiss to pass between each other’s lips. It was so fleeting it was almost hard to be sure it really happened, but Alice stepped back and into the train without another word, and they waved at each other through the window, both a little surprised.

  Her heart tugged when she boarded the train and it pulled away. Could she do this? But as it made its way further from Mürren, crawling down the mountain and edging her closer to home, her phone tinkled.

  She’d received a gift through iTunes. She opened it with curiosity, and smiled a grateful smile. A Rat Pack Christmas had been gifted to her, along with a note from Marco: ‘Maybe this will help get you in the Christmas spirit, or at least distract you from sad thoughts and remind you of us up here in the snow, missing you, and looking forward to you coming (to your second) home. Love, Marc and Bear xx.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, Marco,’ she whispered again, looking through the glass and up the mountain she would soon be back to climb.

  Chapter 35

  Alice watched the seatbelt sign, waiting for it to be switched off, as the plane crawled its way to a stop. Beyond the oval window, the weather was a stereotypical English December – pale grey clouds covering the sky like a duvet without a cover, a wet ground even when it wasn’t raining, a coldness hanging around in the air that felt like it could be the same cold that had nipped at Dickens’s nose.

  Finally the sign pinged and the illumination disappeared, and the passengers were home for the holidays. There was a scramble to be the first to pull their bags and duty-free presents and coats and scarves from the overhead lockers in order to stand awkwardly in the aisle.

  Alice stayed put, resisting London for as long as possible, but grabbed for her phone and flicked it off airplane mode. She waited for news from Marco, anxious to know Bear was okay, and if he was going to mention their kiss. Sure enough, true to his word, her phone tinkled with not one but two ‘pupdates’ in the form of photos. One showed Bear peering at a snowman, out on a walk, and the other was a selfie of Marco with his arm around a very relaxed-looking dog. Alice smiled.

  ‘Cute family,’ a woman standing in the aisle commented. ‘Merry Christmas to you all.’

  ‘Thanks, you too,’ said Alice, without bothering to correct her. He hadn’t mentioned what had happened, but maybe that was for the best for now. She had other things to think about over the next couple of days, aside from this mountain rescuer’s warm lips and kind eyes.

  It was strange to be back in the UK. Walking through Heathrow Airport felt so familiar and yet so distant from the life she’d led for the past two months. Spaces seemed cramped, people seemed busy, signs seemed too big and intimidating, and she felt alone without her dog at her side. She kept her thoughts busy through passport control by letting bubbles of happy holiday memories foam inside her, little things that reminded her of comfortable familiarities she could enjoy again. She wanted to make her parents smoked salmon on toast for Christmas breakfast. She wanted to find Quality Street hidden inside the big, real Christmas tree. She wanted to wake up in her childhood bedroom again and remember it for the many Christmas mornings that had sparkled through her life before now, and not for the three weeks she’d spent under the duvet in there following Jill’s death.

  As soon as she spotted her mum and dad in the arrivals hall, waiting beside a huge lit-up ribbon Christmas tree, her mum in her favourite plaid Christmas scarf and her dad tucking into a Toblerone, unaware of his daughter approaching, England reminded her where home is.

  A rush of comfort took over and she picked up her step, bag bashing against her leg. She stumbled into the arms of her mum and dad, tight squeezes cramping necks.

  ‘Whoopsie,’ murmured Ed, brushing a chocolate smudge he’d created from her shoulder.

  ‘Merry Christmas, love,’ said Liz. ‘It’s good to have you back.’

  ‘We’ve missed you, poppet,’ her dad added.

  ‘Oh, I’ve missed you two,’ Alice replied, all the pent-up anxiety she’d built between leaving Mürren and arriving in London rushing away. ‘Merry Christmas!’

  As they walked towards the train station, Alice’s mum and dad chattered on about the weather and the turkey they’d bought and the Christmas TV they’d been watching and the village decorations. Alice listened with one ear, while thinking how strange it was that this didn’t feel that strange. She’d anticipated cowering her way through the airport, the familiar black fear looming behind her, pushing her forward when
she wasn’t ready, mocking her because it was the time of year where she had to pretend to be happy.

  So how come she actually felt happy?

  Not overjoyed, but joyed.

  ‘Righty-ho, it’s just gone one-thirty, anyone for a late lunch?’ Liz asked with a false brightness that automatically made Alice suspicious. ‘Your dad and I thought we’d all pop to Regent Street first before going home, see the Christmas lights that everyone’s talking about this year, go and see the toys in Hamleys like we used to, have a big hot chocolate somewhere. What do you think?’

  ‘You mean, go into the centre of London rather than just go home?’

  ‘Yes, Regent Street. You always liked Regent Street.’

  ‘But it’ll be crowded.’ Anything could happen.

  Liz and Ed glanced at each other and Ed shook his head, just a tiny movement, but Alice saw it and said, ‘Well, we can give it a go.’

  ‘We don’t have to,’ Liz answered, worry on her face like she’d crossed a line. ‘It was a bad idea, let’s go home.’

  They would have a much happier Christmas if they thought their daughter was okay, and wasn’t permanently damaged. She wanted to give that to them.

  ‘Nope, it’ll be nice to go to Hamleys again, it’s been years. Maybe I could find a present for Bear there, like a ball or a stuffed toy.’ Alice slapped on a smile and forced the ringing in her ears to be drowned out by her inner voice singing Rat Pack Christmas songs as loud as it could.

  ‘How is that big bear?’ Ed asked as the three of them made their way to the train platform. ‘Bet he likes the snow.’

  ‘Oh, he loves it,’ Alice enthused, and she found herself chattering about him and his adventures all the way along the Piccadilly Line until they found themselves nearing the Piccadilly Circus stop, on the south end of Regent Street. It wasn’t until they joined the bustle towards the ticket gates that it even occurred to Alice that she’d just done her first Underground journey since before the incident.

  Tourists and last-minute shoppers bumped into her and stopped in front of her. It wasn’t easy: Alice concentrated on breathing and counting the seconds until she would emerge outside, following the stream of people like a trapped fish not wanting to tangle itself in netting further. Her mouth grew dry and she kept her eyes down, holding tendrils of her parents’ clothing, possibly without them even noticing, but not wanting them to end up beyond her reach. Like Jill had been.

  The daylight burst through as they ascended the steps, and before she did anything Alice lifted her face to the sky and breathed. It was the same sky she would have been looking up at in Switzerland, she just had to remember that, and find stillness in that thought.

  She lowered her eyes. ‘Oh, wow!’

  Floating above the road, strung between the parallel sweep of Portland stone buildings that made up Regent Street, were vast, glowing angels, their bodies and wings made of a mesh of wire and tiny lights. They hovered, as if guarding the shoppers below within the blankets of their intertwining costumes. It was the best light show she’d seen on Regent Street, after many years of coming here, and it wasn’t even dark yet.

  ‘This is beautiful,’ she said to her parents.

  Liz looked so pleased. ‘We thought you’d like it. We’d seen photos of it in the paper. It’s quite calming, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Alice agreed. Despite everything that had happened, she had to admit that there were some things about London you just couldn’t beat.

  They stood, looking up for a long moment until Alice became aware of how the cold air must be feeling to her parents, so she tore her eyes away. She was ready to battle her way through the crowd, expecting to need her guard up for the barrage of hostile, busy, suspicious people.

  It was busy, yes, but the atmosphere was jolly. Shoppers were smiling and hauling their great bags of last-minute shopping, Christmas music floated out of every shop along with a puff of warm air, visitors leaned and stood on tiptoes and waited patiently for their turn to get close to the window displays of the big stores to take photos.

  These people weren’t scared, nor were they full of hate. This wasn’t the image she’d been cultivating in her mind, born of her own demons. But this was London. Resilient, not resentful. Strong enough to let happiness in. The London she had loved hadn’t gone away; she had.

  ‘Here we are. Remember when we used to bring you here as a child every Christmas?’ Ed asked, coming to a stop outside Hamleys, the huge toy shop that was the world’s oldest, and a London institution.

  As there had always been, a couple of toy demonstrators dressed in the signature red coats were in front of the store, whirling colourful playthings and keeping up an ongoing chatter to welcome in customers, who all dutifully made their way in through the vast open doors.

  It was madness, but a happy madness that Alice remembered so well, and because of that it made her feel safe.

  The three of them entered the store and, without any real purpose, were swept along until they found themselves in the soft toy department, where a cuddly dog caught Alice’s eye.

  ‘Look, a Bear! Not a bear bear, a My Bear!’ She held up the stuffed Bernese Mountain Dog, its orange-thumbprint eyebrows, white nose and feet and flash of Swiss kiss on the back of his neck so familiar. ‘I have to get this, a Christmas present for that puppy when I get back.’

  ‘I’ll buy that for you, love,’ said Ed, reaching for the soft toy.

  ‘That’s all right, Dad, I’ve got this.’

  ‘No, let me,’ he smiled.

  Liz walked past them to look at some classic Hamleys teddy bears and whispered, ‘Let him do this, you’re still his little girl.’

  Ed looked pleased with himself as he headed to the till, leaving his wife and daughter to mosey around the Harry Potter displays.

  ‘Is Dad okay?’ Alice asked.

  ‘Yes, he’s fine, we both are, I just know he’s been thinking a lot about what happened to Jill, and what would have happened if . . . you know.’

  Alice nodded, full of sadness for her dad’s aching heart. ‘Do you see Jill’s parents around much?’

  ‘Sometimes. We’ve been over a couple of times. They always ask after you.’

  ‘How do they seem?’ To be honest, Alice didn’t really want to know the answer to any of this, but she still felt compelled to ask. She could well imagine how Jill’s mum and dad, and her brother, seemed – sad, angry, broken, bitter.

  ‘They’re . . . coping,’ Liz replied. ‘But they walk a little slower now, talk a little less. Sam has been coming back a lot and helping them with things. They ask after Bear as well, and I’ve shown them some of the photos you’ve been sending me, of the two of you in the snow.’

  Alice wondered how they felt seeing her off having a jolly holiday with their daughter’s dog.

  Her mum put an arm around her, pulling her back to the present. ‘They were happy to see them. They seem happy that you’re looking after him so well, in a place Jill talked a lot about taking him. They aren’t angry, Ali, I promise you. And they wouldn’t have any reason to be.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘It’s Christmas, my love. I hope you can give yourself the gift of a break.’

  At that moment Ed reappeared clasping a Hamleys bag with the Bernese Mountain Dog toy inside. ‘Merry Christmas to you and Bear,’ he said, as jolly as Santa.

  ‘Thank you.’ Alice hugged him, feeling like she was ten years old again. ‘Do any of you fancy eating soon? I’ve got a sudden hankering for a pie and mash, though it’s more like an early dinner than a late lunch now. My treat.’

  ‘Well, our treat,’ Liz corrected. ‘I doubt you have a lot of dosh this Christmas.’ She smiled as she said it, and Alice thought, it actually feels good to be home.

  Two hours later they were finishing the last morsels of mince pie and hot chocolate from their table at the Queens Head pub near Piccadilly Circus, tummies full, just like they should be at Christmas time. Liz and Ed had told her all about their pas
t couple of months: the Halloween trick or treaters they’d had for the first time, and that they’d had to give out all of Liz’s supply of KitKats because they hadn’t had any other sweets in; the village fireworks on bonfire night which had been a complete washout but fun nonetheless; and how Ed had only finished his Christmas shopping two days earlier. In return, Alice told them about seeing Vanessa again, trying snowboarding for the first time, and her new friends. She felt herself smiling as she talked about them, especially as she enthused about how helpful Marco had been, and pressed her lips together, remembering.

  ‘He sounds like a very nice chap,’ Liz said, stealing a glance at Ed who nodded, a little embarrassed by the conversation. ‘It sounds like you’ve made some lovely close friends there. Will you see Bahira, Theresa and Kemi while you’re back?’

  ‘No, I don’t really have time,’ Alice answered. In actual fact she probably could have squeezed in a drink at the pub if any of them were around this evening, but . . . maybe she’d just give them a quick ring; they were probably all busy with their own families. Still, she felt a knot of guilt at not following through on her promise to keep in touch more.

  ‘You’re flying back on Boxing Day, is that right?’ asked Ed. ‘Do you have to leave so soon?’

  ‘Ed . . . ’ Liz cautioned.

  ‘I do. Marco and David are being very kind looking after my huffing great dog for me, and he isn’t easy, and they need to work.’

  Ed nodded.

  ‘Maybe you could both come out and visit me in the New Year?’ Alice continued, keen to keep the mood light and the belief going that everything was fine. ‘Mum, you’d love the outdoor hot springs they have out there. They’ll even let you have a glass of bubbly while you sit in them.’

  ‘Well, that sounds very nice, we’ll look into that, won’t we, Ed? Are you sure Vanessa wouldn’t mind yet more people staying in her home?’

  ‘No, she wouldn’t mind at all, she’s said I can have visitors.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll take a look at that then.’ Liz stood and brushed stray mince pie crumbs from her long coat. ‘Now, who’s ready to go home and light the fire?’