The Little Swiss Ski Chalet

by Julie Caplin

  ‘I can’t wait to tell Uncle Derek. Do you mind if I take some photos?’

  ‘Er, would you mind waiting? The new owner hasn’t even seen it yet; it seems a bit unfair on them if someone else gets to see it before them.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Of course. That makes sense. Maybe I should buy one for him.’ She’d already resolved to speak to Hannah. She could get her to take pictures of the family home before Derek and Miriam moved out and they could include a model of the house and give it to Derek as a retirement present or a moving house present. They could even have tiny figures of the four of them in the garden waving at the train. As always, her mind was leaping forward with seven-league boots.

  Luke laughed. ‘I can almost hear your brain racing, but I’m thrilled that you love the Suitcase Train as much as I do.’

  ‘I do. No wonder you’re such a patient teacher. You must have lots, to do this kind of painstaking, detailed work.’

  ‘I had to learn it,’ said Luke, just a touch enigmatically but she was still thinking of Derek’s would-be reaction and didn’t think about his odd response until much later.

  A few minutes later, they followed their noses into the dining room, which was almost full. On the sideboard were three enormous, old-fashioned, steaming tureens filling the air with the scent of leeks and mince. Next to them were two breadboards with several French sticks.

  ‘Ah, Mina, Luke. Just in time. Mina, would you like to sit between Claudia and Kristian and on the other side of Kristian?’

  Mina nodded, pleased with her seating allocation; she’d really enjoyed talking to Claudia the previous night. She was amused to see that Luke looked a little mutinous as he made his way to the seat next-door-but-one to hers, with Kristian separating them.

  As she sat down, she turned to Kristian and said good evening.

  ‘You have lipstick on. It looks nice.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, trying to keep her amusement at the clumsy compliment.

  ‘Yes. A nice colour. It makes your lips look…’ He winced as he ran out of steam. ‘Like lips.’ There was a panicked expression in his eyes as he turned as red as a beetroot to the very tips of his ears.

  She patted them. ‘That’s good then. That’s what I was hoping for. I like this colour. Thank you.’

  Kristian looked at her uncertainly, but seemed reassured by her straight face.

  ‘Guten Abend,’ he muttered, staring down at his place setting.

  ‘Good evening, Mina.’ Claudia greeted her with friendly charm and proceeded to ask her all about her virgin cross-country ski experience.

  Once everyone was seated according to Amelie’s directions, the two teenage servers started filling bowls with hearty portions of the benediktiner eintopf and she put baskets of the sliced baguettes in the middle of the table. There was very little conversation at first as everyone tucked in; everyone’s earlier hunger, briefly quashed by cake, was well and truly back with a vengeance.

  Amelie had a gift, thought Mina as she looked around the table. She was the fairy godmother of hostessing. With a simple wave of her wooden spoon, she’d managed to match each person up so that everyone had someone to talk to that they were comfortable with. Even Kristian next to her had gradually lost his nervousness and been able to address a couple of innocuous remarks to her without putting his foot in it or turning bright red again. Opposite her a young teenage girl was happily chatting away to Frank and just beyond her Luke and Bernhardt were indulging in playful banter, laughing and teasing each other with the familiarity of old friends. It was a convivial party, decided Mina, and even after coffee had been served and finished – Johannes’s chocolates were amazing – everyone stayed at the table talking for another hour. Eventually people began to drift away in readiness for another early start in the morning.

  ‘Look forward to seeing you later in the week, Mina,’ said Bernhardt in a low voice, as he paused by her chair, putting what she suddenly realised was a proprietary hand on the back of the chair. ‘And then we’ll be back on Friday.’ There was unexpected warmth in his dark eyes as he smiled down at her.

  ‘Er… yes,’ she said, having absolutely no idea what he meant. She knew he, Uta and Kristian were leaving the following morning but would be back at the weekend. It seemed a long way to come back for one night. Maybe she’d misheard. And maybe she’d misread the sudden interest he was showing. Where had that come from?

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘This is heaven,’ said Mina as she surveyed the view. Little clumps of dark green fir dotted the landscape between the wooden chalets scattered across the slope dominated by a big two-storey white church with a black slate roof and domed clocked tower.

  ‘And I thank God every day that I came back here,’ said Amelie, leaning on one of her walking poles. They were both slightly out of breath and their pants came out in little puffs of steam in the crisp air. ‘I love living in the mountains. And thank you for helping this morning. I feel like I’ve really got ahead of myself, especially with the cakes already made for tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure. It’s so interesting trying these recipes, they’re very different to English cakes. Especially the way you separate out the egg whites and whip them up and fold them in at the end. It’s inspiring me so much. What do you think of this? A fruity twist on the Solothurner cake. How about a cherry or raspberry version?’

  ‘Hmm, I’m a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to recipes, but I could be persuaded. Sounds interesting.’ Amelie tilted her head and broke off to point ahead with her walking pole. ‘We’re headed up there. Ready to go?’

  Mina looked up at the slope towards a line of trees and nodded.

  ‘So how would you adapt the recipe?’ asked Amelie as they set off.

  An hour later they were travelling back to the chalet on the train having talked non-stop during their walk about cakes, ingredients, and flavours. Mina’s brain buzzed with ideas and her hands were jiggling up and down on her knee with that burning desire to get into the kitchen.

  Amelie began to laugh. ‘Why don’t we buy you some ingredients tomorrow when we go to Brig and you can work in the kitchen?’

  ‘Would you mind?’ asked Mina, conscious that the kitchen was very much Amelie’s domain. ‘I’m dying to experiment. I feel really inspired by all your recipes. They’re so different but there’s so much scope to adapt them and I’m itching to have a go.’

  Amelie laid a hand over Mina’s knee. ‘I can tell.’ She laughed. ‘You brim with enthusiasm and it’s so invigorating to be around. You’re making me think about my cooking. I’m looking forward to what you come up with. While I love baking, what motivates me is knowing that my guests will enjoy the results. I follow recipes that I know people will like. I’m not sure that I have the same passion for food and cooking that you do. Mine is more about pleasing people. Making them happy and comfortable.’

  ‘I want to please people, and for them to enjoy my food, but I guess that I also want to challenge them, encourage them to try new foods and to fall in love with food.’ Mina grinned at her. ‘That doesn’t necessarily make them comfortable, does it?’

  Amelie laughed. ‘Sometimes you have to push people. Like Kristian. A sweet boy but hopelessly clumsy, especially with women, and has a terrible tendency to say silly things. If he had his way, he’d hide in the corner all the time with Bernhardt and his other friends. Bernhardt is far too sure of himself. There’s nothing I can do there, but he has a good heart. I’m trying to bring Kristian out of his shell and give him a bit more confidence in himself. He does get in a fluster and then he just talks.’ She raised her eyes heavenward before adding with a touch of indulgent exasperation, ‘Without thinking.’

  ‘Ah, I did wonder.’

  Amelie beamed at her. ‘That’s why it’s lovely my guests keep coming back. He’s much better than he used to be. I have a couple arriving tomorrow…’ Her face clouded and her lips crimped together before she said, ‘Well, I won’t say anything until you’ve seen
them in action. I’d be interested to see what you think. They’re English. Both work in Geneva. They’ve been a couple of times before and this time are staying until Friday.’ She paused. ‘I did wonder about letting them book, especially as they want to come again for a couple of weekends. I’ve not confirmed those yet.’

  Mina turned to her. ‘Do you really choose who comes to stay?’

  Amelie let out a light laugh. ‘Not terribly good business practice, is it? Dieter would have been horrified.’ She smiled although there was a wistful look in her eye. Amelie didn’t talk much about her husband, Dieter, who had been dead for two years. Mina could barely remember him. He’d never accompanied Amelie on her trips to the UK, and on the few visits to her apartment in Basel, he’d been a shy figure who kept himself to himself in the book-lined study. ‘Dieter would have been interested in the practical elements, how to manage the energy, portion control, and the bottom line. Whereas I want my guests to be comfortable, and if other guests spoil that enjoyment for others, they’re not welcome back.’

  ‘And do you tell them that?’ Mina asked, slightly curious.

  ‘Goodness, no. I might just tell them I’m fully booked, like I did with Frau Müller.’

  ‘What did she do wrong?’

  Rolling her eyes, Amelie leaned forward. ‘She’s very negative. It’s a drain on the other guests. Everything in life is wrong. She wasn’t miserable, but she just didn’t want to enjoy life. I suppose she enjoyed moaning more. But that sort of thing is wearing for the other guests. I don’t want my guests to be wary, peering about like little bears when they come into the lounge, worrying about who they might have to sit next to at dinner. In a big hotel it doesn’t matter so much, you can hide from people.’

  ‘I get that. One year at our campsite, there was an awful couple who pitched their super deluxe ten-man tent with wine fridge, camp beds, and a Weber gas barbecue next to ours, and they had to tell us all the time how much bigger and better their equipment was.’ Mina grinned at the memory. ‘Derek was hilarious. For every boast they made, he deliberately downplayed things. Told them that our tent was from a skip, our barbecue came from a charity shop, and that he made me and my sister run down to the stream to collect the beer he’d left chilling in the water. On a campsite we could get away from them quite easily. They became the butt of our jokes. But I can see how people like that in close proximity could ruin your weekend.’

  ‘Exactly. I shall have to see how Mr and Mrs Barnes behave this visit. Last time they were here, I nearly didn’t let them book again.’

  ‘What did they do wrong?’

  Amelie considered the question with a frown before replying. ‘I think I’ll leave you to make up your own mind. You can tell me what you think.’

  ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘Mina my darling, always so impatient. But I would like your opinion.’

  Mina was intrigued to meet the couple and wondered what Amelie meant.

  ‘So, are you going to tell me what sent you hotfooting to Switzerland?’

  Amelie’s question took her by surprise, and when she didn’t say anything, more out of shock than not wanting to confide, Amelie added, ‘Of course, you don’t have to tell me. I’m just wondering how I might be able to help you.’

  ‘Fix me, you mean?’ asked Mina with a sudden grin, realising that was what Amelie did with her guests. Her godmother’s guileless smile or insouciant shrug didn’t fool her for one minute. ‘That’s what you do for your guests, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m not sure that I fix people, but I certainly do my best to make them happier.’

  ‘I’m quite happy, really. I just took a wrong turn and it gave me a nasty wake up call.’ In a light-hearted jokey way she told Amelie about Simon, the proposal, the public humiliation of discovering he was having an affair, and Smurfgate. Now with a bit of distance she was able to camp up the story and pretend that it was really quite funny even though Simon’s words had stung.

  Hiding her laughter behind a hand, Amelie shook her head, but tears were streaming down her face. ‘That is… I shouldn’t say it, but it’s very funny, and what he and this Belinda girl deserved. Andï’ her eyes narrowed with that no-one-hurts-mine gleam of loyalty ‘—they have both behaved very badly. I’m sorry, liebling.’ She reached out and laid a hand on Mina’s. ‘He didn’t deserve you, and he has lost something that he is too stupid to prize.’

  And that was why Amelie was so special. She was always in Mina’s corner, a hundred per cent. There was a special understanding there, and always had been, even when Mina was a little girl. Amelie got her.

  Mina smiled sadly at her. ‘You’re right. His loss.’ Amelie squeezed her hand again just as the train pulled into their station.

  Standing up, they began to bundle back into their coats, hats, scarves, and gloves. As the cold air hit Mina’s face when they stepped onto the platform, it sobered her for a moment and she turned to Amelie.

  ‘It wasn’t funny, really. He was right. Life should be more than just fun. Like he said, fun is not for keeps. I keep thinking of my parents. Look where being fun got them.’

  ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Amelie laid a hand on her cheek. ‘I’m sorry. They were very wrapped up in themselves.’

  ‘Yes, but they egged each other on. Perhaps if one of them had been more sensible, then it might have put the brakes on things. They might still be around.’

  ‘We’ll never know,’ said Amelie. ‘And you can’t change things. All you can do is live the best life you can.’

  ‘Mm,’ said Mina pensively, once again touching that metaphorical jagged tooth in her mind.

  Lapsing into their own thoughts, neither spoke as they took a shortcut across the fields from the station to the chalet, their snowshoes crunch-crunching on the compacted snow. Mina wondered if Amelie still would have been friends with her parents all these years on, whether they would have changed as they got older, whether they might have tamed their ways.

  When they arrived back at the chalet, it was almost time to serve the zigercake which she’d helped to make earlier that morning. It was completely different to any cake she’d baked before, and as always her tastebuds were salivating in anticipation. Good job she’d been out for a long walk today. Walking in the snow, even with the snowshoes clipped to hiking boots, was jolly hard work, but hopefully had burned a few calories – as at this rate, with all the cake she was consuming she’d be the size of an elephant.

  The lounge that evening was much quieter as quite a few people had headed back to the cities for their working week. It meant there were vacant seats in front of the fire, which crackled and hissed in the vast grate. Mina tucked herself into a seat nearest the fire, curling her feet, toasty in heavy wool socks, around her, absently munching her slice of cake as she scribbled some notes in her notebook. After a few quick searches among some of her favourite recipe sites, she was now considering how she might tweak the hazelnut meringue recipe to create her very own kirscher torte.

  ‘Problem?’ asked Luke, taking possession of the chair next to her and breaking into her thoughts as she sat there frowning and sucking her pen.

  ‘No,’ she laughed, making a quick note on the page. ‘Not at all. In fact I think I’ve just cracked it. It’s going to need a fruit concentrate, otherwise the meringue will collapse.’

  ‘And in English?’

  ‘Sorry, I was thinking out loud. Working out a new recipe. It’s what I do…’ She gave a self-deprecating snort. ‘Or what I’d like to do. Do you know it’s actually in my job description? Recipe Development. Huh, chance would be a fine thing. That place doesn’t want any new ideas. They just want the same-old same-old.’ And then she slapped her hand over her mouth, horrified at what had spilled out. ‘I’m sorry. I hate people who moan about their jobs. My motto is, do something about it. And…’ Inside she was appalled at herself.

  ‘I don’t think you were moaning, more expressing frustration. But I do agree. I know that feeling, that’s why I left m
y last post. No challenge. I hate seeing people stay in jobs that are gradually destroying their souls. I think you always need to keep moving, keep challenging yourself. And why stay somewhere if you’re not enjoying it? There’s more to life than work.’

  ‘Yes, although I guess some people need the security. My adopted dad, Derek, has worked for the same company for forty-five years in the same office and I don’t think he’s ever thought about changing. In fact, I’m not really sure what he does. Work is that bit of the day between nine and five for him. But then again, I’ve never heard him complain once.’

  Whereas if she was completely honest with herself, she’d had more and more doubts about her work in the last year. The mince pie debacle – quite frankly that slightly orange-flavoured pastry had been an absolute triumph, as was the touch of orange zest in the mincemeat – had been only one of several frustrations. The chicken and chorizo risotto, which had been much feted since it had become a top seller, had, in fact, been a very watered-down and bland affair compared to the recipe she’d initially come up with. She sat up straighter as the thought settled in hard and fast. It was time to move on. With crystal clarity, she knew what she didn’t want to do. She didn’t want to work at Freshfoods anymore. Which was fine and dandy. But what did she want to do?

  ‘What?’ asked Luke.

  ‘I’m going to look for a new job.’ She blurted the words out, surprising herself as much, she thought, as she had him.

  He blinked at her. ‘And you’ve just decided that now.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said with decided emphasis, the conviction in her gut growing stronger with each passing second. ‘Cooking with Amelie in just two days has given me more pleasure than I’ve had at work in the last three months. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You know when you get on a treadmill and just keep walking. I got myself stuck in a rut. I need to do something different.’