‘Now I’m mad!’ Orla shouted. ‘I’m so mad!Madderthan mad! I do not want to be here!’ She then let out a ridiculous scream/shout, the likes of which had never left her before. And itdidecho. And now she was breathing heavily, feeling thatwhoosh whooshof her heart as it worked on whatever anger chemical she had unleashed.
‘Good,’ the man said with a nod. ‘Anger will keep you warm. But we need to keep moving, as I said.’
He turned around and began striding off again. Wait, what? He hadpurposefullyriled her to make her angry so she wasn’t so cold? Who was this guy? Before Orla could deliberate any longer, she realised she would have to start making moves herself or risk being left far behind. She tried a jog, easier said than done in snow but it was getting her heart working.
‘Do you know where Hotel Delphine is?’ Orla asked, finally catching up to the back of Erin and the man.
‘HotelDelphine?’ he queried.
‘Yes,’ Orla said. ‘It’s where we are staying.’
‘There is no Hotel Delphine,’ the man answered.
‘What?’ Erin bleated.
‘Yes, what?’ Orla asked.
‘It is as I said. There is no Hotel Delphine. There is Delphine, the owner of the village store. That is all the Delphine in Saint-Chambéry. Are you sure you have arrived at the right destination?’
There were so many answers to that question and Orla was getting more confused as to her remit here. As much as Frances flew by the seat of her pants if it was necessary for a scoop, she wasn’t usually so lacking on critical details like a roof over her employee’s head in an icy landscape.
‘I… don’t know.’ There was real doubt in her mind now. Not about the destination – after all, Gerard had been waiting for them as planned – but about everything else that came next. Feet moving on autopilot, she looked to the mound that was her sister, gripping on to the tall stranger’s back, shivering. She had to take care of Erin. Before anything else, no matter what this assignment was, her sister’s well-being came first.
‘Do not worry,’ the man said, his voice no longer condescending. ‘I am certain everything will be in order. Delphine, she will know where you are meant to be.’
Finally, a little bit of upbeat from Mr I’ve-Been-Hit-By-A-Car-And-Am-Apparently-Iron-Man.
‘But, if she does not, then you really are in trouble.’
Great.
9
Idiotes. That was what these two were. Another couple of tourists here for the quaint Christmas village atmosphere and the skiing that was substantially more affordable than Aspen. In this current cold snap they would be lucky to even make it to the slopes without a blistering wind chill destroying their skin and going to town on the inside of their lungs. And Delphine knew they were coming? She hadn’t mentioned she had visitors arriving and she knew how he felt about strangers, how he tried to avoid the tourist elements of Saint-Chambéry, kept a low profile. And where was Milo with the rescue car? They were in the village now, but someone needed to go back to Gerard. Jacques scanned the crowds, hoisting the girl on his back a little higher to keep his grip. Would Delphine still be in the store? Or had she already begun to man the stall where she would be selling the cookies?
‘Wow, there’s a fire!’ the girl on his back remarked.
‘Yes,’ Jacques replied. ‘It is where we put the tourists with bad coats close to to thaw out. Then, if that does not work, we destroy the evidence that they were ever here.’
He felt the girl shudder and was struck with a little remorse for his tone and his words. When had he got quite so blunt and brutal with everyone?
‘Come,’ he said, striding towards the thick orange flames licking up into the night sky. ‘Let us get you warmer.’ He looked over his shoulder. Where was the other one? He couldn’t see her amid the growing groups of people in the square waiting behind a thick bronze ribbon. That stupid ribbon! It was always treated like it was some kind of religious icon, fête-goers almost bowing at its presence. Ridiculous!
‘I… can’t let anyone see my front,’ the girl said, sounding like her teeth were chattering.
‘What?’
‘Where I was sick,’ she continued. ‘It’s rank.’
‘I do not know what that means, but I do know your mother was very thorough with the wet wiping before you left the car.’
He had thought that was crazy, standing in the cold, getting a packet of dampmouchoirsout and wiping more cold onto a jacket. Left alone, these two would be halfway to the ER already. Ironic as that was many, many miles away and they would never make it there on foot…
‘My mother!’ the girl exclaimed. Then she laughed.
‘I have made a joke?’ he asked her.
‘Orla isn’t my mum,’ the girl answered. ‘I know she looks dead old, but she’s my sister. I’m the one our parents didn’t expect. Our mum always blames the big bang theory and no one ever knows if she’s talking about the TV show or not. I really hope she is.’
