The lady shifted the poles to her other arm and rummaged between the packets of meat until she produced what looked like a larger pack of what Alice was already holding, and thrust it towards her. She tapped the chilled rashers and smiled. ‘Bacon.’
‘Thank you,’ said Alice, warmed by this kindness. ‘Thank you so much.’
The woman grinned and walked off, her ski boots clump-clump-clumping and a loaf of brioche swinging from her gloved hand. Alice weaved her way to the cash register, grabbing en route a bag of Ovomaltine powder and a big orange-packaged bag of Ovomaltine biscuits to try. As she paid she watched the bacon woman exit the store, give Bear a passing pat on the head, and then click her skis back on her feet and take off down the hill, bread bag flying on the breeze behind her. What a way to commute.
Alice took a satisfied breath. She could see herself living here. Right now she felt veryhappy-comfy.
Later that morning, the two of them were ensconced back in the chalet, with Alice pottering around unpacking her belongings. She’d made a record-time zip back to the car after dumping her shopping, praying the whole way down the mountain and back up again that Bear wouldn’t be destroying Vanessa’s beautiful Alpine home.‘My’ home?She tested out the thought.
When she’d returned, pink-cheeked from the cold air combined with sweat from walking hastily up the hill with lots of bags and a big snow jacket on, she laughed out loud to see Bear hadn’t budged an inch, and remained in a peaceful slumber beside the large window in the living room.
He had raised his head when she came in, got up, shook himself out and pottered over to stick his head in one of the bags, just in case food was hiding in there.
Now she was in the guest room –her room– surveying her ‘warm clothes’ spread out on the floor. She said to Bear, ‘I’m going to have to go shopping soon. A few jumpers and leggings from H&M really aren’t going to hold out for a full winter wonderland.’
Bear wandered over to her, grabbed a sock in his mouth again and bounced out of the room before she could stop him.
Shopping was low on the priority list. Vanessa had insisted she make this place feel like home, and Alice’s heart longed for a place to at least imagine as her own. She would start with the guest bedroom.
It was already a travel-brochure dream, decorated in amber woodwork, pastel linens and cosy homeware. But Alice took a particular shine to the window seat. It was small and you had to sit in it with your knees bent, but because of the slope of the hill below the chalet, if felt like you were looking out atop the world. She ran her fingers over the wood and pictured the addition of some fairy lights, some warm socks, a book, a mug of tea and her dog beside her, and this little nook would feel like a cave – a place where she could keep an eye on the world but feel enclosed, and safe.
So that was the plan for that little space. Now to spread herself around the chalet a bit more.
Alice carried her laptop, books and art materials downstairs, and put them carefully onto a spare shelf in the living room. She was hardly likely to feel inspired to draw an amusing feminist cartoon while she was in Switzerland, but maybe she’d have a go at a snowy scene or something, for a change.
‘Look how Instagramable this place is,’ she said to Bear as he chewed her sock and watched her make a coffee. ‘I mean the view, of course, but all the wood panelling on the walls, the blankets, the snow piling on the balcony. It would be a very hygge post.’
Alice hadn’t touched social media since the concert, almost three months earlier. Maybe she should just check in. But as she opened her phone and navigated to the various sites, a sense of foreboding trickled over her. She was about to jump back down a rabbit hole that felt at odds with her serene surroundings, and a warning bell went off. Nope, this was a new beginning – she wanted to forget all about the real world while she was out here.
So instead, Alice took a quick photo of her mug of coffee resting on the ledge of the balcony, the mountains in the background and, ignoring all other notifications, posted the photo to Instagram and asked the app to sync it to her Facebook and Twitter accounts too. ‘Taking time out,’ her caption read. ‘See you on the other side.’
No hashtags. She didn’t want to be ‘found’.
The sun was lowering in the sky when Alice got back from taking Bear on his afternoon walk through the deep snow. He was becoming quite the pro now, still lifting his legs as high as he could with each step, but moving with a happy, confident lack of gracefulness that was causing Alice’s phone to overheat from taking too many photos.
Back at the chalet, peeling off her wet gloves and woollen hat, she noticed the temperature inside wasn’t about to help her dry out. ‘Brr, it’s cold in here, isn’t it?’ she said to Bear, who had realised his nose was all wet from the snow and was rubbing it on the rug in front of the unlit wood burner.
Without taking off any more layers, Alice flicked the kettle on and leafed through Vanessa’s house instructions for details on the heating. They were minimal, to say the least: ‘If you get cold, put on the wood burner. Logs outside. Matches in kitchen drawer.’
She’d never felt so London.
‘Okay, well, I’m in charge so I need to keep us from getting pneumonia. Wait here,’ she told Bear. ‘I’m going outside to get firewood.’
The gloves went back on, and back out into the snow she went. She trudged almost the entire circumference of the house, falling twice into the sloping snowdrift, before coming back around to a tiny shed that was almost like a small outside loo. Maybe it had been once, the door was old and creaking enough on its hinges. Inside was an axe and some thick chunks of tree trunk.
With a sigh, and an image of a nice brandy by a warm fire concentrated in her mind, she picked up the axe and rolled one of the sections of wood outside, hoping a few minutes in the snow wouldn’t be enough to dampen it.
Alice bent at the knees to pick up the axe and twinged at the heaviness, the movement sending a small shockwave of pain down the length of her scar. Through gritted teeth she swung it hard.
Boof. The axe nestled into the wood like a knife on an avocado stone. She was going to need to try a little harder.
Thud. Her second try took all her strength and yet still the axe head was only half submerged.
Alice struggled until it became free again and felt her frustration building. Ignoring the pain in her leg she put her whole back into it, and . . .
Crack. Ish. A section the size of a rib-eye steak broke off and Alice grabbed it out of the snow. It was a start.
She chipped away at the wood, feeling it in her leg the whole time, but whereas the scar usually made her feel weak, out here in nature, chopping wood to keep her and her boy warm, she felt like it was a battle wound, a reminder that she was a warrior and was living for both herself and her best friend. She had some of the power back.
With about half of the lump of wood in jagged kindling, Alice knew she needed a couple of big logs if she wanted the wood burner to last more than half an hour. So with her biggest swing yet, she brought the axe down with a strength she didn’t know she had, a roar emitting from her throat, and she fell forwards as the blade plunged into the wood. Her scar landed hard in the snow, her hands stinging inside her gloves from the hot weight meeting the cold impact. She fought to catch her breath, but when she looked up to see a split through the centre of the wood, needing only a wiggled release of the blade to break it in half, she grinned.
Alice walked back into the cabin with a well-needed dose of confident swagger, and when she’d lit that damned wood burner – which really wasn’t difficult, she’d done the hard part – she poured herself that much-anticipated brandy.
