The Little Swiss Ski Chalet

by Julie Caplin

  ‘Oh my God!’ Hannah stopped dead, putting a hand out to stop Mina.

  ‘Oh my God,’ repeated Mina, as they both stared at the For Sale sign outside their parents’ house.

  ‘They’re moving?’ Hannah shook her head. ‘Do you think they’re having a mid-life crisis or something?’

  ‘It must be a mistake,’ said Mina. ‘They’ll never move. They’ve never even talked about it before.’

  Their adopted parents were the most change-averse people in the entire universe. Derek had worked in the same office for the last forty-five years and every single person that worked with him there adored him. Miriam had worked part-time for the newsagent on the other side of town since she was sixteen, even though it was two bus rides away, which Mina had never understood. Actually there was quite a lot about their adopted parents that neither girl understood, such as their complete disinterest in food, their preference for annual holidays in Eastbourne, dedication to routine: laundry on Monday and Wednesday, the food shop on Thursday, fish and chips every Friday (there’d been mild alarm when Our Plaice had been bought out and became Oh My Cod), and a trip to the park every Saturday morning.

  At the same time there was also an awful lot to love. Miriam and Derek were the kindest, gentlest, and most generous people, even if they couldn’t make a decision to save their lives. When Hannah and Mina’s real parents drove off a cliff in Serbia, when they were two and three respectively, it never occurred to Miriam and Derek not to adopt their two orphaned nieces. Miriam had been ten years older than her sister, Georgie, and they were the original chalk and cheese – although from what Miriam said, it seemed that the more adventurous Georgie had been led astray by her daredevil husband, Stuart, from the minute she met him. Before having children they’d climbed the Eiger, white-water rafted on the Zambesi, bungy-jumped in Queenstown, and trekked in the Kalahari. Post-children, they’d restricted their activities to weekends in Europe, rally driving in Serbia, hanggliding in Bavaria, and mountain biking in the Pyrenees – and the childless Miriam and Derek had only been too happy to babysit.

  She and Hannah stood on the threshold of the gravelled drive and looked up at the three-storey house, which she had to admit did need a little TLC these days. When had the paint on the window frames on the top floor started to crack and peel? And there were an awful lot of weeds establishing themselves in places they had no business to be.

  ‘It’s probably worth a fortune,’ said Hannah. Over the years the street had become gentrified.

  ‘I guess, but I never thought they’d move, and why haven’t they mentioned it?’

  They sat around the faded, pale-blue Formica kitchen table, which was so old that it would probably sell well on Etsy as a retro item. The kitchen cabinets with their cream doors and plastic wood surrounds were circa 1970 and the oldest that Mina had ever seen. A museum might be prepared to take them as they were immaculate.

  ‘It’s a lovely surprise to see you both,’ said Miriam, her hands fluttering around the Hornsea pottery mug of builder’s tea. ‘I haven’t got anything in for supper though. We were going to have a couple of chicken fillets and chips. There might be a couple of Rich Tea biscuits somewhere.’

  And that, thought Mina, said it all. Biscuits should be irresistible, and you should know exactly how many you had left because they’re so delicious you’ve been rationing yourself, and there should always be something in the cupboard you could throw together.

  ‘Don’t worry, Aunty M,’ said Hannah, kicking Mina under the table before she could say anything.

  Not being able to feed someone was complete anathema to her.

  ‘It’s quite useful you popping round though,’ said Derek with a distinctly uncomfortable wriggle. He’d been fidgeting in his seat since they’d sat down.

  ‘Well, there’s a reason,’ said Mina, diving straight in, wanting to get it over with. ‘Simon and I have finished. I just wanted you to know before you read about in a national newspaper.’

  ‘Oh no, darling. That’s such a shame. He’s such a nice boy. Isn’t there anything you can do to patch things up? Are you sure it’s over, you’re not just overreacting?’ Mina shot a look over the table at her sister. Why did everyone automatically assume it had to be something to do with her?

  ‘He has been seeing Belinda behind my back,’ she said, proud of her restraint. The sentence deserved at least two expletives.

  ‘But why would he do that?’ Miriam looked genuinely perplexed.

  ‘Because he’s a two-timing, cheating bastard.’ Mina’s saccharine smile didn’t placate her mother.

  ‘Well, that’s a terrible shame.’ Her aunt’s fluttery hands plucked at the pattern on the mug in front of her.

  Mina eyed them. Neither of them had picked up on the ‘national newspaper’ words.

  ‘Actually, we have something quite important to tell you,’ said Derek, as he and Miriam exchanged another one of those worried, panicky looks.

  Mina stiffened. Was one of them ill? She looked with alarm at both their faces. She couldn’t bear it if anything happened to either of them. Her parents were a distant memory, but Miriam and Derek were the constants in her life, unstinting in their love and support. They were her real parents now.

  ‘We’ve decided to downsize. I’m going to take voluntary redundancy and we’re going to move to a bungalow.’

  ‘Wow, that’s a lot of change in one go for you two,’ said Mina, relief coursing through her as she ignored the warning glare Hannah sent her.

  ‘It’s time. This house is too big for us… always was, really, and we can’t keep up with the maintenance.’

  ‘And the redundancy package is very good, and I was due to retire next year anyway. With that and the pension, we can buy a nice little place.’

  ‘But if you sell this house, you’ll have loads of money.’ Houses on this street, this size, in this area, must have been worth well over a million pounds – one-point-two or one-point-three at least.

  Miriam and Derek exchanged another one of those diffident, uncertain glances, and neither of them spoke for longer than what was an acceptably pregnant pause.

  For at least a full minute the four of them looked at each other as the clock on the wall with its loud tick counted down the seconds like a timer on a bomb.

  ‘Oh no, you haven’t been scammed by one of those equity companies, have you?’ Hannah straightened, her hands clasped with sudden worry.

  ‘No, no,’ said Derek. ‘It’s not that.’

  It went quiet again and Mina wanted to shake one of them to break free the vital piece of information that they didn’t seem to be able to volunteer. Hannah gave her another warning kick under the table. Seriously, why did people always assume she was the loose cannon about to say the wrong thing?

  ‘Anyone want another cup of tea?’ Miriam reached for the tea pot, pulling off the dark brown knitted tea cosy. She was the only person Mina knew who actually used a tea cosy.

  ‘Yes,’ said Derek with over-enthusiastic eagerness.

  Mina moved her legs out of range, ignoring Hannah’s narrowed eyes.

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  Derek sighed. Miriam sighed.

  ‘The thing is…’ Derek tapped his finger on the table. ‘The thing is… The house. It’s not ours.’

  ‘Oh.’ Mina frowned in confusion. ‘Have you been renting it all this time?’

  ‘But if it’s not yours,’ said Hannah, ‘How can you sell it?’

  Miriam gave a nervous laugh. ‘Well, we sort of, you know, kind of…’

  ‘We forgot,’ prompted Derek.

  ‘How can you forget that you don’t own a house?’ asked Hanna, glancing over at Mina.

  ‘Well, we just got so used to being here.’

  ‘So the owner is selling the house and you’ve got to leave.’ Mina sat up. ‘I’m sure there are laws to protect you. Aren’t you sitting tenants? They can’t just throw you out. Hannah can sort it all out for you. We won’t let them do that.�
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  Miriam laughed and patted her hand. ‘That’s not it at all.’

  ‘Who does own the house, then?’ asked Hannah.

  ‘Well, you do.’ Miriam smiled as if it were totally obvious.

  Mina clicked her key fob and saw the flash of her hazard lights. ‘I can’t believe those two.’

  Hannah laughed. ‘How do you forget you don’t own a house?’

  ‘I suppose they’ve been there for so long they hadn’t thought about it. It must have been a legal nightmare when our real parents died. You’d have thought with their proclivity for adventure they might have thought about having a proper will.’

  Miriam had explained that when Georgie and Stuart were killed, everything had been a terrible mess and it had been easier to move into the girls’ family home, which Stuart had inherited from his own parents, rather than unsettling them further by moving them into a rented terraced house on the other side of town. Hence Miriam’s lengthy journey to her job. Derek and Miriam had moved in and started life as a family there, and until they’d decided to downsize, had never even thought about ownership.

  ‘How do you feel about them insisting the proceeds of the sale come to us?’ asked Hannah.

  ‘Uncomfortable. It’s totally wrong. They’ve paid for the upkeep of the house all these years. I think they should get enough from the sale to buy whatever they want. That only seems fair to me. There’ll still be plenty left over.’

  ‘Me too, but they’re adamant it’s our inheritance.’

  ‘Blimey, the house is valued at one-point-three million. Even if they spent half on a new house, we’d still have plenty. I would far rather they bought another house and kept their savings, especially if Uncle D is going to retire. They could buy a lovely bungalow with that money.’

  Hannah didn’t respond. Instead her face was scrunched up in thought. They walked a few more paces in silence until she suddenly swung around to face Mina.

  ‘If you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?’

  ‘What, with the money, you mean?’

  ‘Yes. If you could give up work and go and do something completely different.’

  ‘I don’t know. Why, what would you do? I thought you loved your job.’

  ‘I do love my job, but… even you would say it’s a bit dull. I want something more. I’d really like to go somewhere to learn to cook properly.’

  ‘I just chuck it all in together and hope for the best.’ Mina shrugged.

  ‘That’s not true. You’re an instinctive cook. You experiment, and you have a real flair – whereas I’m always worried I’m going to get it wrong. I wish I’d done food tech, like you did, for A level.’

  ‘I don’t think that would have helped you get a law degree. And I do get it wrong sometimes. Beetroot meringue? Remember?’

  ‘It tasted OK,’ said Hannah with a sudden laugh as they both remembered the soggy purple mess. ‘But I wouldn’t have had a clue where to start to even try something like that. I want to learn to cook properly. Everything from bread-making to pastry, patisserie to butchery… there’s an amazing place in Ireland where you can go for twelve weeks.’

  ‘Wow, sounds like you’ve been doing some serious thinking.’ Mina was impressed. She rarely thought that logically about the future – she jumped from one adventure to the next – and just for a very brief moment she wondered what she would do if she left her job.

  ‘Yes. It’s always been a bit of a dream, the course is hideously expensive but,’ Hannah’s eyes gleamed with sudden excitement, ‘with this money, I really could go.’

  ‘Then this is the perfect windfall,’ said Mina, giving her sister a hug, ignoring the prick of envy over her sister having such a clear vision of what she wanted to do. It always seemed to Mina that Hannah had life sussed, while she’d been the one who still wasn’t sure she’d found what she really wanted. Suddenly her life seemed a little hollow, and the future a little empty. With an unhappy sinking feeling, she realised that she needed to sort herself out. A week ago she’d been bouncing along quite happily and now everything seemed to have stalled, and upon reflection, that was nothing to do with Simon dumping her. What did her future hold, and what did she really want from it? With an unpleasant start, she realised she had no idea, and for the first time in her life she felt a little lost.

  Chapter Three

  ‘But this was outside of work,’ protested Mina as Ian Walters, the HR director, folded his arms.

  ‘The fact remains that Simon has made an official complaint about you and…’ He sighed. ‘Mina, I have to be seen to be doing something about it.’

  ‘Well, that’s bloody unfair.’

  ‘Look, if he chooses to escalate things, it could be a lot worse. And I don’t know what the legal position is, but what if he chooses to take it further as a civil action? What were you thinking?’

  Mina folded her arms mutinously. ‘I was thinking he was a cheating sod and that blue hair would suit him.’

  Ian tried to hide his amusement and failed miserably. ‘You know everyone is calling it Smurfgate.’

  Mina grinned. ‘Are they?’

  ‘Yes, and I’m being totally unprofessional here. I appreciate that this all took place out of work, but the fact remains that you’ve – I don’t know what to call it, not assault or criminal damage – but at the end of the day you’ve harmed a fellow colleague.’

  ‘He looked a bit patchy for a couple of days.’ She shrugged before adding, ‘You should see Belinda – good job she doesn’t work here.’ An irate Simon had shown her the pictures. Despite her bravado, Mina did now feel quite remorseful. Belinda’s hair was doing a fair impersonation of mottled mermaid; her streaky blonde highlights had absorbed varying differing strengths of blue and it looked terrible. Even she couldn’t honestly say that Belinda deserved it; it was going to take months and a lot of hairdressing bills to sort out.

  ‘Mina. You need to sort yourself out.’

  She flinched at the words. It was all very well telling herself that, but to hear it from someone else – someone who she respected and admired – that hit home.

  ‘I’m saying this as a friend. You need to reign in some of your natural enthusiasm and be more commercial. Your last appraisal said it all: you’re creative, a hard worker, but you have a tendency to dive off at a tangent sometimes. Heston Blumenthal can get away with weird and wonderful flavours – you can’t. Our customers are not ready for orange-and-fennel-flavoured pastry in their mince pies. They want traditional, tried and tested. That’s what your job is. To give them that.’

  She knew that, but she couldn’t stop herself arguing back, ‘But that’s boring. Did you try my mince pies?’

  ‘Yes, and they were bloody delicious, but the thing is, you have to toe the company line.’

  ‘I get that, but you have to push the boundaries a bit otherwise we’d never move forward.’ Mina couldn’t understand the company’s attitude. Last year their mince pies averaged a measly five-out-of-ten in the magazine and online taste tests. Good Housekeeping only gave them a three, and quite frankly she didn’t blame them. Her recipe would have at least garnered some interest, rather than rating bland mediocrity.

  ‘Mina. Listen to me. Simon is out for blood. You need to keep your head down. You’ve got a lot of holiday owing. Why don’t you take a couple of weeks off? Think about what you really want? Is a career here going to fulfil your creativity? You’re a brilliant recipe developer but… is this the right place for you?’

  Mina stared at him. ‘Are you sacking me?’

  ‘No, not all. You’re one of our best – when you stay on track. I’d hate to lose you, but I worry that this isn’t what you need. Why don’t you go away for a little while, think things through? Hopefully when you get back he’ll have calmed down.’

  ‘But I’m not in the wrong here—’

  Ian raised an eyebrow and she shut up. Actually, a few weeks’ holiday was quite a nice idea. Maybe she could do with some thinking time. There
was a whole world out there; perhaps it was time to do something like Hannah and take some time for herself.

  ‘Hi Hannah.’

  ‘What?’ asked her sister with a tone of instant suspicion.

  ‘Why would you say that?’ Mina felt aggrieved as she sat on the end of her bed eying the rather small pile of clothes she’d already earmarked to go in her case.

  ‘Because you bothered to say hi and use my name. Normally you dive in as if we’re already mid-way through a conversation. Personally I find it endearing, but when you say, “Hi Hannah”, I know you want something.’

  ‘Well, now you come to mention it. Is there any chance you could give me a lift to the airport on Thursday afternoon?’

  ‘Wind back a sec. Airport. Thursday. What, this Thursday, as in two days’ time? What’s going on?’

  ‘You know how you said that putting hair removal cream in Simon’s shampoo would be a bad idea?’

  ‘Oh God, you didn’t.’

  ‘No, wait. I didn’t. I refrained.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that.’

  ‘I went for the blue hair dye instead.’

  ‘Oh flipping heck, Mina. Why do you do these things? Seriously. Consequences. Remember consequences.’

  ‘Yeah, well this time, HR are giving me a hard time.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Simon has complained about me as a colleague.’

  ‘That slimy weasel. It’s nothing to do…’

  ‘Don’t think I haven’t told them that, but Simon is making a big fuss. It’s been suggested I take a couple of weeks’ holiday. I don’t see why I should – but I do fancy a holiday.’

  ‘Oooh, where are you going to go?’

  ‘I’m going to Switzerland to see Amelie.’

  ‘Well, that’s unexpected. You’ve got the world at your feet, I thought you’d be going backpacking in Bali, surfing in Sydney, cruising in Croatia, or riding in—’