Chapter 22
It was Monday when Alice and Bear had arrived in Switzerland, and by Friday she was feeling as self-sufficient as Leonardo DiCaprio inThe Revenant. Chopping wood, building fires, taking heavy-booted walks in the snow to get food . . . well, that was probably where the similarity ended, but even so, she was feeling very at one with nature. Very few people talked to her, because very few people were really around, and those who did were kind and polite and then rushed on with their own business of readying their village for the winter season. She wasn’t having to answer to anybody or field difficult questions. She didn’t need to keep the curtains closed because there were no longer tall, windowed buildings opposite looking into hers. She had space.
Bear was happy. He liked the wide rooms and cool flooring that Vanessa’s home offered, and he liked exploring the snowdrifts and wood piles for new, outdoorsy smells and tastes.
Alice’s nook in her room was complete. She’d found a small box of clear fairy lights at the Coop and strung them around the window pane. She’d also bought a soft fleece blanket for herself, and a stack of second-hand books that had sat on a wire trolley in the corner of the store asking for charity donations. They were a lovely mix of escapist fiction, with battered covers and yellowed pages. They were perfect.
By early evening her stomach growled and she couldn’t stop thinking about sausages. On her way back from the Coop earlier she’d passed an inn, not far from her chalet, with all the lights on and someone hanging Christmas decorations in the window. The Eiger Guesthouse, nestled under the wing of the Hotel Eiger, was calling her.
Alice gathered herself up, popped on Bear’s collar and picked a book from her new bookshelf. ‘I bet you think I can’t read, because I’ve never picked up a book in front of you,’ she said to Bear, who stood by the door, ready to go anywhere she was willing to take him. ‘But before you came along I was quite a bookworm.’ Well, not beforehimbut before . . . it. She hadn’t picked up a novel for ages. She held up the book and studied the cover, which displayed a man and woman with big eighties hair, embracing in a way that looked like her neck and back might snap in half. ‘Okay, we’ll start with this one. Come on.’
Down from her chalet, and round the corner, the Eiger Guesthouse seemed to be welcoming them in from the cold with a soft glow, a cleared pathway and candles alight on every table behind the window. Alice pulled open the heavy door and peered inside, hoping that they had at least one table in a dog-friendly zone.
A woman rushed by, the same woman who had been putting the Christmas decorations in the window earlier, and came to a skidding halt at the sight of Alice and Bear. ‘Come in, come in!’ she cried. Bear took no encouraging and pulled Alice into the warmth of the pub. Wooden panelling lined the interior, with red-cushioned benches facing little individual tables. The walls were brimming with old black and white photos of people skiing and sledding, and James Bond movie posters. On the bar was a basket with packets of crisps and mini Toblerones to purchase. As well as candles, each table boasted a bottle of the ‘wine of the week’, just there to tempt you, and on the windowsills behind were big glass jars filled with corks.
While the woman, clearly the Eiger Guesthouse’s manager, snuggled with Bear, who was up on his hind legs with his paws on her shoulders, she simultaneously called instructions in Swiss German to the various waiters and bar staff about the two tables being occupied. ‘Okay. My name is Ema. Are you ready for some food?’ she asked Alice all of a sudden, like an old friend.
‘I really am, yes please,’ Alice replied.
She was led to a table by the window, and the next-door table was pushed aside to make room for Bear’s bulk. She was given a menu and a biscuit for her dog, and then Ema had zoomed away again.
Alice took a moment to turn and look out of the window behind her. Snow had gathered around the edge of the glass and the snowflake lights she’d seen on her first night were sparkling above. She was very cosy indeed.
‘What would you like to drink?’ asked Ema, reappearing.
‘Oh um,’ Alice opened the menu and flicked the pages quickly. ‘I think . . . a beer. Yes, just a light beer of some kind.’
Ema flicked the page for her to the appropriate place. ‘A blonde beer?’
‘Okay.’
‘You want small or large?’
‘Large,’ Alice found herself saying, suddenly craving some gulps of cold bubbles.
‘Good girl!’ Ema cried and disappeared again, calling her order to the barman, who moments later walked over with a large glass beer tankard with a handle, and the brand ‘Cardinal Blonde’ emblazoned on the side.
Alice felt like a regular, even on her first night here. There was something so safe and so immediately welcoming about the Guesthouse, but also about Mürren that . . . now it may have been the sweet, bubbly beer she was gulping talking . . . but she had an overwhelming feeling of homeliness. Being here was like a hug for her soul.
Alice ordered a second beer, much to the manager’s delight, and the ‘Oberland Rosti’, a local speciality. What came was an iron skillet filled with a huge boomerang of sausage smothered in thick onion gravy, and a buttery pile of rosti potato with a hint of rosemary.
Bear rested his chin on the table until she cut him a piece of the bratwurst. Then, once he’d sunk to the floor and stretched his big legs out for a cosy snooze, she picked up her book.
Alice had barely read two lines when she looked up again at the dog.
‘Are we happy here, Bear?’
He opened his eyes and beamed at her, his tail starting to wag against the table leg because she was looking at him.
She smiled and went back to page one. It was nice to have a friend.
The following afternoon, Alice was reading her book, Bear slept on her feet, and the only sound in the world was the soft crackle from the fireplace. The book was actually rather good, lots of sexy bits and also a very intriguing story about a doctor who was secretly a duchess but her devious colleague found out and was trying to steal her priceless ruby. Sex kept getting in the way, like it does.
But outside this fantasy land, even before she could hear a thing, Bear became alert to a distant sound. He raised his head, eyes trained on the door. Then he raised himself further, propped up on one elbow like he was Lionel Richie shooting an album cover.
‘You okay, hun?’ Alice asked, putting down the book.
Bear glanced at her and whined, unsure why his peace was being disturbed.
