Page 40 of A Season in the Snow
Chapter 19
‘I might give you some of Vanessa’s brandy too, if we ever get there,’ Alice murmured to the dog as she crawled the car forward. She followed the tail lights of a car up ahead, and in the darkness could see the shape of mountains looming above her.
It took everything she had not to think about the concert crush. Which meant the thoughts and memories were there, clamouring and clawing to get in and distract her from the road. She focused on Bear’s consistent panting, calm and comfortable.
Eventually a street lamp appeared, and then another, and another, and when a large sign appeared pointing towards a multi-storey car park, with a picture of a cable car with ‘Mürren’ written beside it, she exhaled with relief. The road widened and sloped-roofed buildings lit from within popped up on either side, a large canvas of happy skiers strung high over the road.
Alice indicated left towards the car park, saying, ‘I think we’re here, Bear!’We made it!
In the back seat he sat up and yawned, shaking out his ears.
But there was a man beside the entrance to the car park who seemed to be turning people away. Alice opened her car window, a blast of freezing air entering their warm pod, and asked, ‘Excuse me, we’re looking for parking to go up to Mürren?’
The man, wrapped up in thick clothing, the tip of his nose bright pink, replied, ‘For Mürren, keep going to Stechelberg and get the cableway up the mountain.’
‘Keep going? We can’t park and go up from here?’ No, no, no, this wasn’t the plan. They werehere.
‘No because the car park is full. There is a renovations taking place so it is only half of the size right now. Stechelberg is six kilometres that way.’
‘But Stetchenblog—’
‘Stechelberg,’ he corrected.
‘It’s the wrong . . . ’ She faltered. He couldn’t do anything about that, and a couple of cars were now indicating to try and come in after her. So Alice nodded a thanks to the man and reversed, making her way back to the main road. She drove in silence, watching the comforting lights of Lauterbrunnen recede and the darkness welcome her back.
Six kilometres may seem to stretch long like elastic after nightfall, but in reality the lights had started to appear again after ten minutes. Dotted beside the road, one after another, were simple, illuminated Christmas shapes taking her into Stechelberg. A bell, then a tree, then a star, and before she knew it the road took her off to an open-air car park with a large building – the cable car station – at the end.
Alice pulled into an empty space between two other cars, very very carefully as the car park wasn’t gritted and she was driving over an inch or two of snow now. And she switched the engine off.
‘Nowwe’ve made it, Bear,’ she said, and both the dog and the car heaved a sigh of relief.
Alice rolled her stiff shoulders as her stomach growled. It felt so good to know she wouldn’t be needing to climb back into this cramped vehicle for some time, and the few other people pottering about the car park reassured her that the cableway was still running.
She opened the door andwhoosh, the cold air hit her. Wow, the wind chill in the mountains was real. She grabbed for her coat and for Bear’s lead, and he was about to hop out of the car when he came to a standstill, peering over the edge of the car onto the ground below.
Alice blew upwards, trying to warm the tip of her nose. ‘Come on, what’s wrong?’
He stared down and she adjusted to try and make more room for him to get out. As her boot slipped just a little on the ice, she realised what he was staring at. ‘Bear! Your first experience of snow! Look.’ She scooped a handful into her glove and held it to his face. He pressed his nose into it and left it there a while. ‘Do you like the cold? There’ll be plenty more of this over the next few months. Are you going to have a go at walking on it?’
She gave his lead a small, very gentle tug, and Bear stepped down, lifting his paws high as if it could be three feet deep. He toddled forwards, dragging his nose into the snow as he walked, weaving this way and that, listening to the sound it made under his paws. He tried leaping in the air and watched it powder-poof around him, and he tried licking it off the back of the car while he waited for Alice to gather their belongings and take them to the cableway station.
Alice worked fast, her fingers freezing, and pulled out his bed, her handbag, one of her suitcases, the bag with his food and toys and a food bag. She surveyed the pile of belongings. Because of Bear, she would only have one hand at her disposal, and this waswaytoo much to haul up a mountain.
‘What do we not need tonight?’ she asked him.
Bear stuck his head in the bag of his stuff. He was telling her that if nothing else, this bag was essential.
‘Maybe we don’t need your bed,’ she mused. ‘You slept all over the place in our old house, so I’m sure you can do without it for one night. Don’t look at me like that – it’s huge. If I take your bed I can’t carry your food and toys as well.’
He snorted through his nose and rested his chin on the lip of the boot, resigned.
She put the bed back in the car, for now.
‘I guess I don’t need everything in this suitcase.’ Alice opened up the case on the car park ground, revealing her carefully packed winter clothing and toiletries.Jesus, it was cold. No time for keeping things neat. She pulled out a handful of clothing and underwear and threw it back in the boot, making a gap big enough to stuff her handbag into.
‘Okay, that’s two-in-one. We’ll leave my food bag, since Vanessa said we could eat her stuff. Don’t judge me, Bear, you eat my food all the time, and we’ll replace anything we use up. As for your bag . . . ’ She pulled out seven bright dog toys in various textures, sizes and colours. ‘Pick just two favourites for tonight.’
Bear snuffled along the line of toys, settling on a balled-up rope that had seen better days, and a lump of hard wood that he liked to chew on. Alice returned them to his bag, which was now closable, and balanced it on top of her suitcase, the bag handles strung over the suitcase’s own extended top handle.
