‘It’s a forest!’ Clementine cheered, clasping her hands together. ‘A miniature forest, complete with soil and pebbles, acorns and leaf litter, fallen logs and fungi, trees and flowers and ferns. And doesn’t it look magical with the sun shining in through the dainty little branches?’ She looked up and gasped. ‘And the sun shining through your hair, Freja! It’s delicious. Delightful. Like gold spun into the finest thread, then wound into springs.’
Clementine stared at Freja, drinking in every detail. ‘Your eyes! They’ve become more blue, more knowing. There’s happiness and strength . . . and bravery! I think it might be some time since you have felt the need to hide.’
Freja smiled and nodded.
‘Good girl,’ whispered Clementine. ‘And you’re tall, Freja. So very tall. Your limbs are long and lanky, but powerful. You’re like a fox pup who is growing into a fierce and powerful hunter. I knew you’d grown. I could feel it when I hugged you. But seeing is different. More. So much more.’
Freja blushed and, unsure of what to say, chirped, ‘Did you notice the grass I stuck down the tops of my boots? And the acorns I stitched to the hem of my smock?’
Clementine squinted, then nodded. ‘You are even more beautiful than I had remembered. You are truly spectacular!’
Tobias put his hand on Clementine’s shoulder and, together, they stared at Freja, their faces full of love and pride.
The doctor cleared her throat. ‘Excuse me,’ she said in her thick German accent. ‘This is a special moment, ja? But I need to warn you that the vision might go again very soon. This is just a little window we have cleared with the help of the special medicines. You understand, ja?’
Clementine smiled. ‘We’re ever so grateful, Doctor Claudia.’
‘What if Tobby and I go right now?’ asked Freja. ‘Clementine can have lunch and a nap and then her eyes will be rested and —’
‘Nein,’ said the doctor. ‘It is not so simple. It is time, not tiredness that is the enemy here. I think it is best to make the most of the eyes while they see, ja? Take Clementine out. Perhaps a little trip down the path into the town for lunch. See the river. Watch the swans. Eat some schnitzel. Feel the sunshine on your face and the breeze in your hair.’
Clementine reached up and rubbed her bald head.
Doctor Claudia shrugged. ‘So maybe you feel the breeze in your ears. But an outing with your beautiful daughter will be good, ja?’
Clementine beamed at Freja and together they cried, ‘Ja!’
CHAPTER 13
Chocolate wonderings
Tobias steered the wheelchair like he drove his motorbike — with much enthusiasm but very little skill. He clonk-donked down the steps at the front of the clinic, without even considering the smooth wide ramp.
Finnegan barked and snapped at the wheels and Clementine’s fluffy slippers. In between times, he leapt at Freja and nipped her elbows, as if to say, ‘Isn’t this grand? An outing that involves both wheels and fluffy slippers!’ Had there been sausages, biscuits or jam, his joy would have been complete.
They headed down the hill, towards the old town of Lucerne, the wheelchair veering from one side of the path to the other — and sometimes off the path altogether — as Tobias was distracted by the fascinating things all around.
‘My word! Just look at that sturdy old city wall,’ he cried. ‘Museggmauer, they call it. Fabulous name! It even sounds solid. And those watchtowers are truly wonderful, tall, square and robust enough to hold back a herd of diplodocus. Or is it a flock of diplodocus . . . or maybe a flock of diplodoci? Who knows? But the towers are marvellous, each one a little different from the last with their fancy roofs and steeples and tiny turrets. It’s like the architect had too many ideas to choose from and decided he’d use them all.’
The wheelchair veered off the path and the wheels became bogged in grass and mud. Freja and Tobias tugged it free, Clementine laughing until the tears ran down her cheeks, and they continued on down the hill.
‘And look at all these mansions,’ sang Tobias, ‘all marvellously grand. I wonder who owns them — counts, dukes, rich bankers? Maybe there’s a cat burglar living in one. There’s a great deal of money to be gained from stealing jewellery and rare paintings, you know!’
His steps had grown longer and faster as he spoke so that now the wheelchair was zooming down the path. Freja and Finnegan ran to keep up.
‘And just look how dark it is in this avenue of oak trees!’ boomed Tobias, casting his eyes upward. ‘It’s almost like a forest. I say, Clem, remember Spook Forest where we used to hide from Miss Frecklington when she went into one of her rages.’
‘Who’s Miss Frecklington?’ asked Freja.
‘Boof!’ Finnegan nudged Freja in the shoulder and stared down the hill.
‘Oh! It’s Herr Berna from the chocolate factory,’ said Freja. ‘See, Tobby?’
They watched as the tall, wide chocolate maker strode up the hill, still dressed in his white overalls, gumboots and shower cap. He was chomping away at a seriously large chunk of dark chocolate, and almost tripped over Finnegan before he realised there were other people on the path.
‘Ach!’ he cried and came to a halt.
‘Boof!’ said Finnegan.
‘Guten Tag, Herr Berna,’ said Freja.
‘Fräulein Freja!’ he cried. ‘Herr Appleby! And . . .’
‘Clementine Peachtree,’ said Clementine, smiling. ‘Freja’s mother.’ Herr Berna took her hand in his chocolatey fingers and squeezed it. ‘But of course!’ he cried. ‘The sparkling blue eyes are the same between mother and daughter, ja?’
‘Ja!’ said Freja, proud to share Clementine’s eyes.
‘Are you okay, my good friend?’ asked Tobias. ‘You looked a little distracted, coming up the hill.’
‘Ach!’ growled Herr Berna. ‘I am just lost in my thoughts. I go for a walk every morning at eleven o’clock to clear my head and to eat some Schokolade and to wonder.’
‘Wonder?’ asked Freja.
‘Ja, wonder!’ Herr Berna took an enormous bite from his chocolate, chewed, swallowed and locked eyes with them, one after the other. ‘How much Schokolade should one eat for breakfast? Would it be possible to make a car out of Schokolade or would the heat from the engine cause it to melt? Is it wrong to give my wife Schokolade for her birthday every single year? Why does God make it impossible for us to grow the cocoa beans in Switzerland when it is here that we make the finest Schokolade on earth?’ Herr Berna’s eyes widened and he pointed the chewed chunk of chocolate at Freja. ‘And why was there a pencil floating at the top of my vat of Margrit Milk Schokolade this very morning?’
Freja’s breath caught and she tried not to giggle.
‘A pencil in the Schokolade!’ cried Herr Berna. ‘We do not use pencils at Berna Schokolade. Everything is written in pen! It is strange, ja?’
Tobias slipped his pencil from behind his ear and stuffed it into his already full pocket.
‘That’s nothing,’ said Freja. ‘This morning, Tobias and I found a chocolate-coated log in the middle of the forest behind Hotel Schloss der Freude.’
Herr Berna stepped backward. ‘Nein!’
Freja nodded. ‘Ja! A big log, coated with very fine chocolate — Margrit Milk!’
‘Nein! Nein!’ roared Herr Berna. ‘It is too ridiculous for words! A Margrit Milk pencil! A Margrit Milk log! It does not make sense. Why would anyone use the finest Schokolade in Switzerland to coat something they are not intending to eat?’
Herr Berna took another bite from his chocolate and passed it absent-mindedly to Tobias. Tobias took a large bite from the chocolate and passed it to Freja.
‘Ach!’ growled Herr Berna. ‘Only a Dummkopf uses Schokolade for anything but the eating! A Dummkopf or a Hanswurst.’
‘A Hanswurst!’ echoed Freja. She took two bites of the chocolate and passed it to Clementine.
‘Ja! Ja! A Hanswurst!’ bellowed Herr Berna. ‘A clown! A buffoon!’
Clementine nibbled
at the edge of the chocolate and offered it back to Herr Berna, but he waved it away. ‘Keep it! Eat it! It will make your belly fat and your hair thick and strong.’
Clementine rolled her eyes upward towards her bald head. ‘Really?’
‘Ja! Ja!’ cried Herr Berna. He whipped off his shower cap to reveal a thatch of thick blond hair. ‘Three weeks ago I was as bald as you, Fräulein. But I have eaten the Edelweiss Bliss Schokolade three times a day, every day, and look at it now!’ He pulled his shower cap back over his hair and nodded.
Freja giggled, but Herr Berna glared at her and she stopped.
Clementine shrugged and took another nibble of the chocolate.
Herr Berna bellowed, ‘Three times a day! And big bites, not the mouse nibbles!’ He nodded and strode away up the hill.
Clementine now took a large bite of chocolate, closed her eyes, chewed, swallowed and smiled. ‘Delicious!’ Her eyes flew open and, suddenly, her cheeks were filled with colour. ‘Herr Berna is right! I feel wonderful — quite strong and energetic!’ She stretched out her arms as though she was an angel spreading her wings. ‘It must be the chocolate and the fresh air and the wonderful company.’
Finnegan licked her fingers.
‘Tip-top!’ sang Tobias. ‘Well, Clem, Switzerland is your oyster on this bright sunny day. So what is it you’d like us to do?’
Clementine looked from Tobias to Finnegan to Freja, her blue eyes shining strangely. ‘Why don’t we go to the top of a mountain?’
CHAPTER 14
A deep longing for kicking shins
‘No dogs. No wheelchairs. No food. And no grass!’ The man in the ticket booth looked past Tobias to Freja, scowling at her messy curls, her acorn-hemmed dress and her grass-stuffed boots. A trail of grass reached from the doorway at the front of the station, across the tiled floor to Freja’s heels. Freja blushed and poked the remaining grass deeper down into her boots.
‘I say! That sounds a little harsh,’ said Tobias.
The man turned his mouth down at the sides and pointed to the sign above the booth.
Tobias looked up at the sign and said, ‘There’s nothing there about grass.’
The ticket seller straightened his cap and flicked some invisible dust from the collar of his uniform. ‘No dogs. No wheelchairs. No food,’ he droned. ‘So still you cannot ride on the cable car.’
‘What about a compromise?’ asked Tobias, tossing the remains of Herr Berna’s chocolate in the bin. ‘We’ll leave the chocolate and the wheelchair behind and take the dog.’
The man looked at Clementine and his face softened, until Finnegan jumped up and planted his front paws on the counter. The dog grinned and dribbled, then licked the glass screen between Tobias and the man, leaving a wet and slimy smear that even Freja had to admit was gross.
‘No dogs!’ the man roared.
‘It’s okay, Tobby,’ said Clementine. ‘We’ll go back to the lake and take a walk by the water.’ Her mouth smiled, but the sparkle had vanished from her eyes.
Freja’s heart sank.
And then she began to feel cross.
She would do anything for Clementine. And if Clementine wanted to go up a mountain, then she, Freja Peachtree, would make it happen.
Or at least she would try.
‘No,’ said Freja.
‘What?’ asked Clementine.
‘No,’ said Freja. ‘We can walk around the lake any day. But today the sun is shining and your cheeks are rosy and you can see. You can actually see!’
Freja smiled, trying to look bigger and braver than she felt. She lifted her chin, balled her hands into fists, then marched over to the ticket booth. She hoped that her legs didn’t look as wobbly as they felt.
Standing on her tippy-toes, Freja took a deep breath and shouted at the man. ‘Shame on you!’
Everyone in the waiting room turned to listen and stare. The ticket seller blushed.
‘Yes, shame on you!’ repeated Freja. ‘You are being a Hanswurst and a heartless bully. My mother, Clementine, has been stuck in a clinic, tired and sick and blind and lonely and eating nothing more than broth and stewed apple. Imagine that! Not a sausage or a schnitzel or a piece of cake or even a bickie. That’s how terribly ill she has been. And today, for the first time in half a year, she can see properly and she has eaten chocolate and now she wants to go up a mountain and gaze upon as many beautiful things as possible.’ Freja blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill. ‘Anyway,’ she said, more quietly now, ‘my mother doesn’t want to steal your ticket money . . . or spray-paint rude words, like Popo and Dummkopf, on the station wall . . . or even to kick you in the shins. Although I can’t say I would blame her if she did. I would like to kick you in the shins myself right now.’
Clementine gasped.
A man waiting nearby to purchase his own ticket snorted and grinned.
Freja smiled gratefully at him and continued. ‘My mother simply wants to ride the cable car with her family.’ She glanced sideways at Tobias and blushed. ‘Which happens to include a dog. Surely you can bend the rules. Just a little. Just this once.’
The waiting passengers all leaned in.
The ticket seller rolled his eyes and started to shake his head.
But then a woman stepped forward and handed Freja a puffy red coat. ‘It is cold up there on Mount Pilatus. Here. Take this for your mother.’
A man stretched past the woman. ‘And you can have my cardigan for yourself, Fräulein,’ he said, handing his woolly brown cardigan to Freja.
‘And my scarf!’ Another woman came forth offering a blue cashmere scarf. ‘Your mother will need something to keep her head warm, ja?’
‘And here is a blanket,’ said another. ‘Just in case you need extra. Your poor mother is so very thin and the wind on the mountain is so very strong.’
‘And I will pay for the tickets!’ said a large man with a bushy blond beard. He tucked his newspaper under his arm, stepped right up to the counter and scowled at the ticket seller. ‘Four tickets, danke. Eins for the girl, zwei for the mother, drei for the father, and vier for the Hund!’ He slapped his wallet down on the counter with such force that everyone in the waiting room jumped.
The ticket seller blustered and blinked and muttered, then slipped four tickets across to Freja.
Freja turned around and stared at all the waiting passengers who had helped her. ‘Danke,’ she whispered and walked back to Clementine, feeling wobbly in the legs but proud in her heart.
The gondola looked like a small red bubble hanging from its cable. Tobias lifted Clementine from her wheelchair and carried her inside, settling her on the seat and tucking the blanket around her knees. Freja sat beside her. Tobias and Finnegan sat opposite. A bell rang and the gap in the side of the bubble closed.
‘Boof!’ Finnegan’s ears stood to attention.
The other passengers waved from the platform.
The gondola zipped out of the station and up the hillside. The town of Lucerne grew smaller and smaller while more and more of the lake came into view.
‘Woof-boof!’ Finnegan panted so hard that the windows fogged up.
‘He’s afraid of heights,’ Freja told Clementine.
‘And with good reason!’ cried Tobias, craning his neck to see the top of the gondola. ‘The mechanism that connects us to the cable is alarmingly simple. One could tamper with those little wheels on which we are running — a vigorous bash here and there with a hammer — and the whole system would fall to pieces. Or rather, the connection would fall to pieces, which would be enough to set disaster in motion. The gondola would fall off the cable, we’d plummet down to earth and break into a thousand tiny pieces.’ He tugged at his ear and chuckled. ‘Or, if by some miracle the gondola didn’t break apart, it would roll all the way down the hillside to Lake Lucerne, gaining more and more momentum, until it soared out over the lake, plopped into the water and sank down into the icy depths. Bloop! Bloop! Bloop!’ He clutched his knees with his hands, smiled an
d nodded at Clementine and Freja as though he had just told them the very best of news.
Clementine smiled. Freja giggled. Finnegan whimpered and buried his head beneath Tobias’ arm.
At Fräkmüntegg, partway up the mountain, they changed from the cosy gondola to a larger cable car which they shared with a dozen other people. They barely had time to settle their bottoms in the seats when they found themselves flying from the station, now soaring above cliffs and rockslides and a drop so breathtakingly high that even Tobias was at a loss for words. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Freja’s heart pounded. ‘We’re on top of the world, Clementine,’ she whispered. ‘I can see all of Switzerland — Lucerne, the rolling hills, the pine forests, the lake stretching its blue arms out in all directions, and the mountains.’ She smiled, all sparkly blue eyes and shining white teeth. ‘Oh, Clementine, do tell me you can see the mountains far in the distance.’
Clementine smiled and wrapped her arm around Freja’s shoulders. ‘I can! I can!’ she cried. ‘They’re iced with snow that shines like silver in the afternoon sunlight and . . .’ She stopped, her breath heavy and rasping.
Freja looked up in alarm. Two round red dots had replaced the gentle blush that had earlier appeared in her mother’s cheeks.
‘Clementine?’ whispered Freja, panic clutching at her chest.
Clementine took a deep breath and smiled. ‘Oooh!’ She let out a strange giggle. ‘It’s been a while since we travelled together to the top of such a high mountain, Freja. I think it’s just a little bit of fear I am feeling. Dizzy, breathless fear.’
‘That’s nothing,’ said Tobias, tilting his head towards the rear of the cable car.
Finnegan had commando-crawled his way across the floor and now lay at the feet of a young hiker, his shaggy grey head stuffed into the top of her backpack.
‘Sorry,’ whispered Freja to the backpacker. ‘He’s scared of heights.’
The woman shrugged and smiled. ‘Me too,’ she replied. ‘But my head will not fit down the top of my backpack at the same time as the dog’s.’
The Girl, the Dog and the Writer in Lucerne Page 9