by Julie Caplin
‘Impressive, isn’t she?’ he said in a dry voice.
‘Yes,’ said Mina with a laugh. ‘She has an iron first in a velvet glove. It’s fascinating to watch her in action.’
‘We all do what we’re told when Amelie’s in charge. She’s like a bossy head teacher with a class of unruly students, and we all love it.’
‘So you’ve been here before then? Everyone seems to have been here before.’
Bernhardt nodded. ‘It’s becoming quite exclusive. I believe the chalet is fully booked this weekend.’
‘I heard,’ said Mina wryly, thinking of her luxurious bedroom.
‘So what is it that you do for a living?’
In response to his very formal question which probably sounded more clipped due to his Swiss-German accent, she replied with her official job title.
‘I’m a senior food technologist for the packaged division of a company.’ It sounded scientific and dull when she said the words out loud. ‘I develop new recipes for packaged meals and new formulations for food products.’ Put like that, her job didn’t sound very exciting at all.
‘For Nestlé? You live in Vevey?’
‘No, I’m here on holiday. I work in England.’ She realised that Luke hadn’t been kidding when he said that twenty per cent of the population were foreigners.
‘I love London. I’ve been there many times, on business. Perhaps next time I come over I could take you out for dinner.’
Mina raised an eyebrow. ‘That was smooth and quick.’
‘Don’t ask, don’t get. And if you notice, there aren’t many gorgeous single women here.’
With that sentence she realised that he was hedging his bets, staking an early claim because she was the only available woman. It amused rather than offended her.
‘That would be lovely except I live in Manchester and it’s about two hundred miles from London. It sounds as if you may have been there more times than I have.’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why I made that assumption. Here in Switzerland we are much more federalist and we have the most direct democracy in the world. We don’t even have one main language.’
‘You don’t? I thought it was German.’
‘Shh,’ he teased, putting his finger to his lips. ‘And it’s Swiss-German, if you please, and even then the cantons have their own local dialects. We have four official languages. French, Swiss-German, Italian and Romansh, but we’re all very multi-lingual. And we have five official names for the country, Suisse, Schweiz, Svizzera, Svizra, and Helvetica, which comes from the Latin name Confoederatio Helvetica, which is where the CH you see on the car registration plates comes from.’
‘Ah, I did wonder.’
‘You’ll see it shortened to Helvetia on stamps and coins.’
‘And how do you know what language to speak?’ It all sounded very confusing to Mina.
‘Most of the country speaks Swiss-German, in the north, east, and central parts of the country. French is spoken in the western cantons, Geneva, Neuchatel, Vaud, and Jura. While Italian is spoken around the Italian border, in the canton of Ticino and Romansh—’
‘I’ve never even heard of it before.’
‘Not that many people speak it. Around 37,000 in the south-east in the canton of Graubünden. It dates back to Roman times. People who speak it are very proud of their language and the fact that it has survived so long.’
‘And how many cantons are there?’
‘I’m starting to feel like a tour guide.’
‘Sorry, but it’s interesting. It’s so different.’
‘We have twenty-six cantons and each one has its own government, laws, and constitutions. They also have their own distinct features, the food they grow, for example. Basel is famous for its cherries, hence Amelie’s Basler Kirschbrotte.’ Mina nodded making a mental note to ask her godmother about the recipe, she wanted to know how she’d achieved that unique texture. ‘The population of each varies enormously from somewhere like Zurich, that has over a million people, to some of the small mountainous cantons, which might only have 16,000 people.’
‘Give it a rest, Bernhardt. What are you trying to do, bore the poor girl into submission?’ Luke sat down on the other side of Mina, bringing with him a bottle of wine. ‘Would you like a glass? At least you can enjoy yourself as your eyes glaze over.’ At her slight nod, he poured a generous glass.
Bernhardt laughed. ‘I’m proud of my country. Sorry, I didn’t mean to give a lecture.’
‘Actually, it was really interesting. I didn’t know any of that.’ See: that’s what happened when you went somewhere on a whim instead of thinking things through, and exactly why she needed to sort herself out. She smiled at Bernhardt. ‘Thank you,’ she said, before giving Luke a reproving glance – not that it abashed him in the slightest.
‘It’s alright, I forget Luke is a complete philistine. All he wants to do is hurl himself off mountains. Some of us have a better-developed sense of self-preservation.’
Mina winced a little at his stuffy tone, but Luke simply shrugged. ‘Life is for living. You need to wring every last bit of pleasure out of it.’
And once upon a time she’d have agreed with him, but Simon’s words of reproach were still ringing in her ears. You can’t base a marriage on fun.
‘But we also have responsibilities,’ said Bernhardt. ‘There is a time for fun and a time for being serious. You have to grow up sometime.’
Luke stared at him steadily, not responding, which surprised Mina. She’d have expected him to make some glib, flippant comment, but his eyes were filled with some quiet sadness.
She grabbed the printed sheet with a brief menu in front of her. ‘I’m guessing if Amelie’s cake is that good we’re in for a treat. Zürcher geschnetzeltes, rosti, and spargel,’ she read out loud. ‘I wonder what that is.’ While she was here, she was going to learn as much as she could about Swiss cooking. Amelie had told her in one of her many emails that there was more to it than cheese and chocolate.
‘It’s a very popular dish here; veal cooked in cream and white wine with rosti potato and asparagus,’ translated Bernhardt. ‘Apparently it’s a favourite with Tina Turner and your football manager Roy Hodgson.’
‘Sounds delicious,’ said Mina, who had no idea who Roy Hodgson was. She was more interested in wondering how it was cooked, and smiling to herself. It was useful having an ‘in’ with the chef.
Talk turned to everyone’s plans for the weekend.
‘Kristian and I are going down to Fiesch by train to take the ski lifts up to the slopes for a day’s downhill skiing. What are you doing, Mina?’
‘I’ve just got here, I’m not really sure what’s on offer.’ She didn’t want to admit she had no plans at all, it made her sound a bit flaky. Coming here on a complete whim was all very well but she had two weeks to fill, and she hadn’t thought things through that well. She didn’t have any plans because she hadn’t done any research.
‘I can take you out one day,’ offered Luke. ‘Teach you to cross-country ski. How about this Sunday? You’ll probably want to orientate yourself tomorrow.’
‘That’s for wimps and old people,’ sneered Bernhard with a good-natured roll of his eyes. ‘You could come with us for real skiing. What level are you?’
Mina wasn’t about to admit that the sum total of her skiing experience was a dozen sessions at the Chill Factore in Trafford Quays. These guys were probably doing black runs before she’d even started nursery school.
‘I’d love to. I’m probably… intermediate,’ she said, crossing her fingers underneath her thighs. She wasn’t about to pass up real skiing or the chance to get out in proper snow. Even if she couldn’t keep up with them she was confident she could get down in one piece. A dozen ski lessons taught you quite a lot.
‘Excellent,’ said Bernhardt. ‘It’s very good skiing at Fiesch and there’s been plenty of fresh snow this week.’
Kristian nodded enthusiastically, clearly including himself as one o
f the party. ‘We leave early. Try to beat the crowds to the slopes. We like to go very early and ski for as long as possible. You coming, Luke?’
‘No, too tame for me. I’m snowboarding tomorrow but I won’t be leaving early. I want to enjoy the day at my own pace.’
Bernhardt shook his head. ‘Snowboarding is for teenagers.’
‘I can’t win,’ teased Luke, tossing his head of bouncing curls with a laugh. ‘Old fogey and a wimp because I cross-country ski, and teenager because I snowboard. I just like being outside and making the most of everything there is to do. Variety is the spice of life and all that.’
‘I’d rather master a skill, than be a jobber.’
‘It’s jack of all trades, master of none,’ said Luke good-naturedly, not the least bit put out by Bernhardt’s slight stuffy criticism.
‘We’re leaving at seven-thirty,’ said Bernhardt.
Luke nudged Mina. ‘And in Switzerland, seven-thirty means seven-thirty. The Swiss are possibly the promptest nation in the world.’
‘It’s efficient,’ said Bernhardt with a reproving look at Luke before he turned to Mina with a gentler expression. ‘If you come all this way, you need to maximise every minute.’ Mina could imagine he was ruthlessly efficient in his time management. He seemed to be very precise about things.
‘I can do seven-thirty,’ she replied, jumping in with both feet as usual, ignoring the tiny voice trying to suggest that she might remind them she was only an intermediate skier. ‘I can’t wait to get out there. It’s going to be great.’
Chapter Seven
Mina realised the next morning that half past seven really did mean half past seven, and she felt a touch guilty only saying a brief good morning to Amelie.
‘Don’t worry,’ her godmother shushed her, with flapping hand movements in between making a large fresh pot of coffee and slicing up more cheese for the breakfast buffet.
‘But we haven’t even caught up yet,’ said Mina. The previous night, Amelie, in between tidying up after dinner and laying the table for breakfast, had sorted Mina out with skis, poles, and the big clumpy, uncomfortable ski boots, which she didn’t think she was ever going to get used to.
‘We have two weeks.’ Amelie patted her cheeks in a very godmotherly sort of gesture that had Mina smiling and resolving that tomorrow she would offer to help more. ‘You’ll be fed up with me.’
‘I’ll never be fed up with you. I should be helping.’
Amelie snorted and shook her head. ‘You are on holiday. I don’t want you messing up my kitchen. Go have a lovely day. Have you got everything?’
‘I think so.’ Hearing Bernhardt’s shouts that they were leaving and that the train left in fifteen minutes, she gave Amelie a quick hug and hurried out into the boot room, where it seemed the all the inhabitants of the chalet were gathering up their kit, rustling in ski jackets, knocking poles, and ducking skis. With everyone in their brightly coloured clothes, manoeuvring around each other with so much pent-up energy and enthusiasm to be off, it put Mina in mind of lots of electrons whizzing around an atom and she was happy to be swept along with them.
Bernhardt and Kristian were meeting up with some more friends at the station and on the train further down the line. ‘We prefer staying here, although it is longer to travel,’ explained Bernhardt as they walked down to the station. ‘There are places where you can ski straight from your door but nowhere is quite like Amelie’s.’
‘That’s what Luke said.’ She recalled his words, a home from home.
‘She makes very good cake,’ said Kristian. ‘And she tries to help me.’ He pulled a face. ‘I’m not very good at saying things.’
Bernhardt nudged him with a playful elbow. ‘If you just kept quiet, it would help.’
Kristian nudged him back in that bantery way men do but Mina noticed his smile was pained. She linked her arm through his in a bid to cheer him up. ‘Well, I think you do just fine when you’re speaking English, and it’s not even your native language.’ She had noticed that during dinner last night he’d launched into a long monologue with one of his neighbours, totally unaware that she looked ready to stab herself with her own dessert spoon. The poor boy – even though he was probably a similar age to her – was harmless, but in that super-smart way of very clever people sometimes, he lacked self-awareness.
Despite the early hour on a Saturday, the train filled quickly, and Mina thanked her lucky stars that she’d teamed up with people who knew what they were doing in terms of buying train tickets and lift passes. She was delighted to see that Uta was part of the group.
‘Hello again,’ she said.
‘Hey. How are you doing? I forgot the boys are staying at Amelie’s.’
They fell into easy conversation as everyone produced piste maps and began a discussion in English, which was very kind of them all, as to which runs they planned to ski during the day, most of which involved the more advanced black runs as well as a number of red runs which even she, who never liked to back off from a challenge, decided she ought not to tackle. Not on day one. She would build up to them. After all, she had two whole weeks here.
‘I think I’ll stick to blue,’ she said, wriggling her feet in the borrowed boots as they pulled into the station, aware that even her attempts at carrying her skis and poles looked amateur next to these snow addicts.
‘Are you sure?’ asked Bernhardt, looking a little disappointed, clearly torn between a desire to spend time with her and not wanting to spoil his own enjoyment. ‘Shall we meet for lunch?’
‘That would be great.’
As they queued for the ski lifts, there was a long debate as to where they should meet for lunch, which amused Mina because there really wasn’t a huge amount of choice, but apparently it was a complex decision because of the distances some of the party intended to ski. It all sounded quite competitive and serious, while she was just keen to get out into the fresh air and ski on real snow.
She hung back, happy to leave it to them all as she didn’t have a clue. Uta, standing next to her, rolled her eyes. ‘I leave them to get on with it. If I’m nearby at one-thirty, I’ll go there, but when I want a beer, I’ll stop for one.’
‘That sounds the best plan,’ replied Mina as they took a couple of steps forward, getting nearer to the front of the queue. She was fully expecting to sit on the double chair lift with Uta and carry on chatting when, at the last minute, Bernhardt manoeuvred things so that he sat on the ski lift with her.
As the chair lift swooped upwards with a curious sway and jolt, she swung her legs, enjoying the feeling of freedom and flying. ‘This is awesome. Actually I could probably just ride up and down on one of these all day. Look at the view.’
Bernhardt didn’t say anything, and when she turned to look at him, he was gazing at her face with a somewhat cheesy smile on his face. ‘I am. Do you know you look a bit like Cameron Diaz?’
‘Mr Smooth again,’ she said with a grin. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to deal with this sort of comment. She wasn’t the least bit vain because, really, she wasn’t that good-looking; it just seemed that having a zest for life and friendly attitude often made an instant impression. Luckily, once most men got to know her, they quickly preferred to settle for friendship. ‘Don’t you think it’s amazing, or are you immune to it now? It’s beautiful.’ Her eyes scanned the dips and shadows of the slopes below, the almost uniform, dark green of the fir trees arranged in neat, contour-shaping rows.
‘No, I don’t think you can ever get immune to it, especially when you spend all week in the city.’
That was lovely to hear. Mina sat back in her seat and breathed in the fizziness of the pure, clear air, feeling that her lungs had never had such a treat. In that moment, the thought of going back to Manchester, to grey skies and drizzle, really didn’t appeal. Being here was rather like being on top of the world, in a land above the clouds where the sun shone all the time.
With Bernhardt’s help she worked out which run she planned
to take, and she could see him wavering between old-fashioned manners, feeling he perhaps ought to escort her down the tame blue run, and the desire to hit the black run that zigzagged so enticingly across the mountain.
‘I’ll be fine. In fact, I think I’d rather be on my own when I make a complete fool of myself and wipe out. This way I can go at my own pace.’ And, she thought, she could enjoy herself. Funnily enough, despite being such a sociable person – she loved the company of other people – she also loved the feeling of independence that being on her own brought her. These were perfect conditions. Plenty of time, no pressure, the beauty of her surroundings, and the most perfect weather. Even if she ended up walking down the mountain, how could she fail to enjoy this?
After a little fussing when they got off the ski lift, Bernhardt finally felt that he could go off on his black run, and she watched him skilfully ski away with the graceful, smooth ease of someone virtually born on skis. If she were entirely honest, she still felt a little bit awkward in the boots, managing the poles and the skis. But at last she was on her own. Kristian had given her an awkward, ‘shall I stay, shall I go’ sort of wave before he followed Bernhardt. Uta had given her a big thumbs up which did more for Mina’s confidence than anything. This was easy. It was a blue run. She knew what she needed to do, and now she was on her own, sudden excitement fizzed in the base of her belly. There was no one to see her make a fool of herself, she could go at her own pace and she could practise all the techniques she’d been learning without constraint. Blue run, here I come. With a sudden burst of elation, she clipped on her skis and looked down the slope. There were plenty of other people taking things slowly, zig zagging in comfortable S-bends at their leisure, as well as those, their skis pointing straight downhill, with kamikaze keenness. Her aim was to be somewhere between the two.
