‘Were you skiing?’ asked Bernhardt. ‘I was at a desk all day.’
‘Sorry, yes. It was a gorgeous day. The air here feels so fresh, I just want to be outdoors all the time.’
‘You’ve been lucky with the weather so far,’ said Luke. ‘There are days when it’s a white-out and you can’t get out. Too many of those days and people start getting cabin fever, especially people who have come up just to ski.’
Mina glanced up at the bright blue sky, realising that she’d been extremely lucky with the weather since she’d been here. All that snow, piled inches deep on the roofs of the houses, looking so picturesque and harmless, had to have come from somewhere. Would it snow while she was still here? Although everyone at the ski chalet discussed the weather for the coming day almost obsessively, she hadn’t once thought about checking the forecast while she was here. She wondered if the village ever got snowed in.
She looked out of the train window; they’d left the snow behind today. As their train from Brig had travelled nearer to Montreux, the snow had gradually melted away. Funny, in just a short space of time she’d forgotten what green fields looked like. The train moved at a steady speed and they all quietened as they munched their croissants and drank hot milky chocolate. Leaning back in her seat, she watched the beautiful countryside, feeling a delicious lassitude and sense of peace.
The track edged along the side of a steep hill and across the valley, dramatic tree-covered peaks, with lines of dark firs clinging to the contours of the landscape, bordered the skyline. The sharp points of the trees were crowded together like indomitable battalions of centurions standing on guard. Mina craned her neck a little to take in the pretty village that came into view, struck by the vibrant colours of the day. The orange terracotta tiles covering the familiar inverted V-shaped roofs, contrasted beautifully with the rich green of the fields and, above, the brilliant blue of the sky. A single church like a benign angel dominated the village, its whitewashed walls with their long, tall windows towering over the nearby houses, the impressive large square tower topped with a black dome which looked as if it were watching over the village and all who lived there.
A few fawn, doe-eyed cows grazed in the field alongside the track, some looking up, although with marked disinterest. The colours suggested spring was on its way. What would Reckingen be like in the spring, in the summer? Mina frowned for a moment. She didn’t want to go home. She’d completely fallen in love with this country. The sudden realisation stabbed right through her with such intensity that she actually gasped out loud.
‘You OK?’ asked Luke. The others busy chatting hadn’t noticed.
‘Yes. No. I’m not sure,’ she said, a little discombobulated by the absolute conviction that filled her. She wanted to stay in Switzerland. In Reckingen. She wanted to see the seasons change, be outside as much as she could, ski, walk and cook.
‘That sounds confusing.’ He put a hand over hers, hidden from sight between them.
She gave him a brilliant smile. ‘No, it’s not confusing at all. It’s…’ She paused. ‘Perfect. I know what I want to do.’ And suddenly all the reasons for keeping him at arm’s length didn’t seem quite so important now.
‘Always good,’ said Luke, clearly not understanding – and why should he? He hadn’t been trying to make sense of that bloody book for the last few days.
She pulled it out of her bag. ‘This. I’ve identified all the things Idon’twant to do, but I was having a hard time deciding what Ididwant to do.’
Luke looked thoroughly confused. ‘Why do you need a book to do that? Isn’t it simple? You do the things that make you happy. That make you feel glad to be alive. And avoid the things that don’t. If you’re not happy, you change things. Only you can do that.’
She stared at him. She’d spent far too much time thinking about what she didn’t want to do, because she hadn’t known what really made her happy. Suddenly it all seemed so obvious. She just had to work out how she was going to accomplish it – but she was a great believer in where-there’s-a will-there’s-a way.
‘Excuse me, I need to go to the loo.’ She stood up, pushed the book into her bag, and strode down the carriage with a sense of purpose. A few carriages down, by one of the doors, she pushed down the window and took in several deep breaths. Funny, it seemed so simple. She didn’t have to go back to Manchester. That was her starting point, everything else would come to her. She pulled the book from her bag and stared at it, before lifting it towards the window. The breeze riffled the pages but then the words of an old anti-litter campaign popped into her head – ‘don’t be a tosser’ – and much as she wanted rid of the book, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead she walked to the far end of the train and left it on a table in an empty section of one of the modern carriages at the end of the train. Maybe someone else might find a use for it.
Mina was quite surprised when the train began to slow and everyone began to gather their things together.
‘I thought we’d be on here for hours,’ she said.
‘No, we transfer here onto a coach which takes up to the village of Gruyères,’ Bernhardt informed her. He had done his homework, of course he had. She, as usual, had decided to go with the flow and enjoy the day. It was rather nice not being in charge for once. She was the one that normally planned trips – or, as Hannah said, ‘she was the bossy one’.
Everyone on the coach was all smiles and as she walked along the aisle, Mina heard snippets of Canadian English, Australian English, Italian, Spanish, and German. It all felt rather jolly, with everyone united in a common goal, to go forth and discover cheese and chocolate. Funny how the little things united people.
‘It’s all so beautiful,’ she said with a contented sigh as the coach wound up the hill, the road spliced with shards of sunshine that cut through the trees.
‘It sure beats being at work,’ agreed Uta from the seat in front of her.
‘If you look up there you can see Cape au Moine, it’s in the regional nature park.’ Bernhardt, who’d snagged the seat next to her, leaned over her and pointed at a jagged, tree-clad peak.
‘Right,’ said Mina, a little bemused and amused. Bernhardt seemed determined to entertain and impress her. She’d noticed a couple of times, that he’d tried to enlighten her in his earnest way. Unfortunately, despite his genuine desire to please, it came across as ever so slightly patronising.
Luke, sitting with Kristian on the seats opposite, smiled but didn’t comment, and a small part of Mina wished for about the fifth time that it was just the two of them today.
Mina had done many factory trips in her time, it was part of her job to visit the places from where they sourced ingredients, but she had to admit that the Gruyère factory was extremely slick and efficient as well as astounding.
‘I love it when a food product has real provenence,’ commented Mina, as they began the tour.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Uta.
‘Well, they’ve been making this cheese since 1115 and it’s only made here. I think in this day and age, that’s really amazing. A lot of cheese, like cheddar in England, is produced all over the place in factories. But this has to be made here because the cow’s milk is unique to the local area, because they eat grasses and herbs that grow high up in the alpine meadows. And it’s been made for nearly a thousand years. How incredible is that?’
‘Incredible,’ agreed Uta with a smirk. ‘You’re really into all this.’
