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?
