‘Oh, well, I just meant that, you know, usually I have time to plan trips away for a bit longer than twenty-four hours and?—’
‘I have been in contact with your magazine for almost six weeks now,’ Delphine interrupted. ‘It was very difficult to get anyone to reply to me at all.’
‘Oh, well, I apologise for that too but, well, I am here now and I can’t wait to meet the reindeer.’
‘And Wolf,’ Delphine stated.
‘A wolf? Gosh, I was only joking with my sister about wolves. Are there really wolves here?’
‘Wolf is a person. I told the woman at your magazine all about him.’ Delphine tutted and shook her head, her initial very friendly exterior melting somewhat.
‘Ah, yes, the man who doesn’t speak.’ She offered a smile. ‘I’ve not done an interview like that before but obviously I will give it a go and?—’
‘Good,’ Delphine interrupted, the friendly smile back. ‘So tonight you will both stay here. Tomorrow, I will take you to see Wolf.Allez.’
‘Sorry, what?’ Orla asked as Delphine barrelled out of the door at a hard right angle.
‘Please, I am behind schedule and people are cold and hungry.’
Those were the last words Orla was obviously going to get for now as the woman whisked out into the night.
‘This place is wild!’ Erin announced, waving a hand in the air as they gathered around the bonfire now the fête was officially open.
It had turned out that as well as being the owner of the only bar in Saint-Chambéry, Gerard was the mayor of the village and until he had been rescued from the car and given cognac, thefête could not begin until he cut the bronze ribbon. But then accordion music and guitars had filled the night, fireworks had gone off and the hubbub of chat and laughter had enveloped the village that looked like it was made of gingerbread. Despite the unorthodox beginning of their being here, the place was all kinds of winter magical and could have been photographed for centre space on a Christmas card. The fire was the focal point tonight, but south of that was a snow-speckled, cobblestone square with a fountain they had been told had been spurting mountain water up until this icy spell that apparently was going to last for a few more days at least. There were benches and fir trees decorated with strings of lights and a large wheelbarrow that seemed to be a particular focus for people to stop and pay homage. Orla had made a mental note to ask their host about that. There was also a beautiful small church made out of wood with a star glowing from the top of its steeple. She tuned back into her sister who seemed to be bopping to the Christmas accordion like she was front row at a Stormzy gig… It wasn’t what she had expected, as Erin liked to moan about everything that wasn’t absolutely perfectly curated to her.
Shewason her third coffee though. And who knew what this French coffee was like. Erin was used to the kind with more cream than caffeine. Maybe Orla needed to watch her sister’s intake, suggest water.
‘I took some photos,’ Erin informed her. ‘Of the man with the funny hat playing the weird small piano that sucks in and out. And the Christmas tree. And the man on stilts. And the sausage stand.’
Orla was still making her way through her hot dog. It was one of those long, thick, bratwurst-style sausages that was seasoned with garlic and herbs, topped with caramelised onion and served in a proper crusty baguette. Right now she frankly had never tasted something so good.
‘I would send them to Burim,’ Erin carried on. ‘But I have no signal. Like there’s no Wi-Fi and there’s no 4G. And if I don’t check in with him soon he will call the emergency services.’
‘I’m sure there will be Wi-Fi at Delphine’s place. We’ll just need the password.’
‘Well, I might need to go and do that now,’ Erin said, checking her phone screen. ‘Because I can’t leave it more than six hours.’
‘What?’
‘Which bit of “Burim will call the emergency services” didn’t you get? I wasn’t playing. He called an ambulance once when I went to Club Class and didn’t message him. He said whatever guy I was talking to would need it when he found out who he was. Aww! Look! There’s Father Christmas.’
As Erin went to take photos of someone in a red suit on skis, Orla swallowed a mouthful of sausage and tried desperately to digest that and the conversation. So, Burim sounded quite the controller. Their mum was right to worry. And Orla was going to make sure she found out much more about him over the coming days. She was well aware of men and what they said online being very different to what they were actually thinking and doing in person. She was an intelligent person, but evenshethought that someone who messaged you with every tiny update of their day for weeks was someone making an effort to grow a situationship into something much more. How was a sixteen-year-old meant to navigate that when a twenty-six-year-old was struggling…?
‘Ah, you have tried one of Pierre’s sausages.’
It was Delphine, looking a little calmer, a steaming cup of something in her hands.
‘They are very good,’ Orla replied, gesturing with what was left of her baguette.
‘I know,’ Delphine answered. ‘I taught him how to make them. The first year he tried to, they tasted like… well, I cannot tell you what they tasted like.Dégueulasse. Disgusting.’
The description wasn’t making these last bites taste the best. She looked around for a bin.
‘So, you have a big family?’ Delphine asked, sipping from her drink.
‘Sorry?’
‘You said you have a family emergency. I wonder how many people in the family.’
