Was it Orla’s imagination or did Delphine sound slightly tense?
‘What are we doing now?’ Erin asked. ‘Apart from turning into ice?’
‘We must walk,’ Delphine announced. ‘The tractor will not go up the hill without missing gears so…’
The ‘so’ was left hanging with no more being offered. Orla waited for Erin to start complaining about the lack of transport but when she looked to her sister she was already making moves forward. Orla felt out of control and that was something she never liked to be. Not only was she here when surely a more junior reporter could have managed what seemed like a fluff piece on paper, but she had a vulnerable teen with her too. It could all so easily go pear shaped. But with Erin striding ahead, there was no more time for contemplation. It seemed Orla had no other option but to follow her.
13
Within a five-minute brisk breath-stealing hike they were standing outside a large cabin, the only building anywhere in sight apart from an adjacent barn. It had large windows with shutters and an absence of anything that said anything about the person who might live here. There was no car outside, no wheelie bins, no plants or personalisation. The dog wasn’t even around either. If it hadn’t been for the fact Orla had had the dog on her lap and her ears were still ringing from the whistling, she would think this place was deserted. Except there was a wisp of smoke coming from a small chimney that she was taking as a sign of perhaps an open fire inside. And fire equalled warmth, right?
‘What are we waiting for?’ Erin asked, stamping her feet. ‘The dog to come back and change its mind about eating us?’
‘I am sure Wolf will invite us in soon. He knows we are here,’ Delphine said, unperturbed and just standing like she was waiting for a bus to show up.
‘But it’s cold,’ Erin moaned. ‘And I need to check my phone.’
Orla knew Erin had looked at her phone on the ride over here so checking it wasn’t a necessity, but she did agree about the cold.
‘In Saint-Chambéry we have a tradition. You cannot enter a house until you are invited,’ Delphine told them.
‘God, this has turned a bitThe Vampire Diaries,’ Erin said.
‘OK,’ Orla said. ‘Well, that’s very nice but it’s very cold and?—’
There was a buzzing noise then and Delphine clapped her hands together. ‘So, now we have been invited. Come.’
Orla watched Delphine make short work of the last bit of the walk and then Erin was at her shoulder, nudging.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ Erin whispered. ‘Because I don’t know what’s a wolf and what isn’t, I’m freezing cold and I’m sure I’ve got croissant stuck to my windpipe because I had to eat it so quickly!’
‘I know,’ Orla said. ‘It’s not ideal. But hopefully once I’ve started this interview I can get a better feel for why I needed to fly here for this story. I know the publication wouldn’t have sent me here if it wasn’t going to pull huge volume to the website.’ And, even though the timing wasn’t ideal, now she was here she had the opportunity to makesureit went well, forTravel in Mindand for her career aspirations too. Another success on her CV and soon it would be time to take a chance onTime…
‘So how are you going to interview someone who doesn’t talk, again? Talk me through it,’ Erin said.
‘Well,’ Orla answered. ‘Maybe he can write his answers down. No one’s told me he can’t hear.’
‘This is crazy! Are all the places you go like this? Because I remember your photos from UAE and there were definitely chandeliers in the hotels and wall-to-wall Balenciaga.’
‘That report was on consumerism and the gender pay gap,’ Orla said. ‘It was meant to be Austin’s article but he… said he wasn’t going to do it unless he got a pay rise.’ She didn’t usuallytake other people’s jobs but she’d thought she’d step up and step outside the box, widen her remit, show another side to her writing. It was all about the bigger picture. Small term sacrifice for long term gain…
Erin laughed. ‘Oh my God, I’m so cold it’s making me think you’re funny.’
‘Come on,’ Orla encouraged. ‘Let’s go in, get this started and then we can find something fun to do this afternoon.’
‘Can we eat Pringles?’
Orla led the way to the imposing solid front door that was slightly ajar and gave it a push. Immediately the dog was there, padding along a wooden hallway, but this time looking more friendly than fierce.
‘Hello,’ Orla said, stretching out a hand to see if petting could be a thing.
‘We are in the kitchen!’ Delphine’s voice carried through.
The dog then led the way and Erin followed its trail while Orla mentally took in details about the house. Despite the abundance of wood it was made from creating an outward appearance of warmth, it felt somehow clinical. The living area wasn’t bright, white or sterile, but it lacked any form of individuality. There were pictures on the walls, but they were prints that looked like they had been bought in sets of three from somewhere like Habitat. There were no photos of friends or family, no ornaments that had been passed through a generation or two, everything there had a purpose. A TV. A wood burner that was roaring in front of a big tan leather sofa devoid of decorative cushions. There was a coffee table but no magazines nor coasters, missing knick-knacks that would ordinarily say someone actually lived here.
‘Is that coffee machine for real?’ Erin exclaimed, wandering into the kitchen area and looking like she might want to take a photo.
‘Ugly thing,’ Delphine said, dismissing it. ‘Like a spaceship.’
