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 morehomethanholiday 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.
