‘Really? So, do you think she has been in this area for a while?’
‘I do not know. Maybe. See, now she is moving around again. And there, the baby is appearing more.’
‘Is everything OK do you think?’ She wanted everything to be OK and the urge to get closer, to be nearer should anything need to be done was immense.
‘Everything is OK.’
‘But can you be sure? I don’t know if I can sit here and then something bad happen. I mean the fact that the reindeer is giving birth now is very rare so what if something unexpected happens with the labour?’
‘Orla,’ he said, linking their hands. ‘I am not going to let anything happen to these reindeer. I promise you that.’
She believed him, wholeheartedly. He was not the type of person to make a promise and not intend to keep it.
‘I know what I said about the foxes but… take your photos for the magazine,’ he encouraged.
She went to use her phone again but then she stopped herself. There was something about this moment that was calling her to be present, completely present, not looking at this wondrous act of nature through the screen of a phone. The reindeer had made its way from its herd for privacy, privacy theywere already invading simply by being in the vicinity. Suddenly she thought about the thousands of readers consuming this personal, special moment with their Christmas morning Buck’s Fizz and bacon sandwich. It felt like a violation of everything this birth represented – the stark, barren mountainside, a mother and child hidden amid the imposing trees, a dark starlit December night above them. It was soft and delicate and it wasn’t something she wanted to share with the masses. She put her phone away.
‘It is coming now,’ Jacques said, putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘See?’
‘Yes,’ Orla said. ‘I see.’
Holding on to Jacques, she watched as the baby reindeer fell to the snow and the mother started to lick its fur. For a second Orla held her breath as the baby didn’t move. But then it responded, wriggling its slick body and looking for attention. And, suddenly, in what she felt was a life-clarifying moment, Orla had never been so sure of what came next.
53
SAINT-CHAMBÉRY
Three days later
‘Sit down, Delphine,’ Erin ordered.
‘Mon Dieu! You talk to me like you are in charge!’
‘I am the Queen of theBrouette!’
‘An honour bestowed by me and the rest of the Saint-Chambéry committee.’
‘Which is you.’
‘And Gerard. And Madame Voisin.’
‘Who do as you tell them.’
Delphine gave a sigh of acceptance and dropped to the chair in the guest room, passing the hot hair tongs over to Orla.
‘I don’t know if I should have curls,’ Erin said, surveying herself in the mirror and swishing the crinoline skirt of the Saint-Chambéry gown from times long ago like it was Prada and she was about to go on a runway. Orla was actually terrified, given her sister’s penchant for spilling food and drink or getting items of clothing stuck in places they shouldn’t be. Delphine had told a very long and complex tale about how the dress hadcome into existence and how many versions there had been. This particular one sounded like it was at least a hundred years old.
‘What?’ Delphine exclaimed. ‘But we have spent almost an hour looking at different styles and deciding the curls.’
‘But the Queen of theBrouettehas to be perfect.’
OK, now perhaps Erin was taking this role a bit too far. Orla checked her watch. There was only forty-five minutes until the parade started and there was still quite a bit to do. But she couldn’t make Delphine start to panic. Delphine had not liked giving up the tiniest bit of responsibility for the final preparations for the festival but Jacques really hadn’t given her any choice. Perhaps it was against her initial wishes but sometimes people who had always led didn’t know how to do anything differently and needed to realise that they didn’t always have to be strong alone.
‘Ah!’ Delphine announced, looking ready to spring out of her chair again. ‘There is only forty-five minutes until the start of the parade!’
‘It’s fine, Delphine,’ Orla said, hopefully making her voice sound the very essence of calming and meditative. ‘Jacques and Gerard will have it covered and Tommy and Burim are in charge of coffee to make sure the brass band don’t get chilblains.’
‘Madame Voisin will eat some of my cookies,’ Delphine said, folding her arms across her chest.
