The Girl, the Dog and the Writer in Lucerne (The Girl, the Dog and the Writer, #3)

by Katrina Nannestad

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.’

  A bell rang. The cable car zipped into the next station and the doors opened. Finnegan pulled his head free, crawled across to the opening and slid out onto solid ground. He licked the cement of the station floor, rolled around on his back and groaned with joy at the feel of solid ground beneath his body once more.

  Tobias lifted Clementine into his arms and carried her out.

  ‘Here we are!’ cried Freja, jumping down beside them. ‘Let’s go and find a beautiful place where we can sit on the edge of the mountain and look out over the Alps, across the roof of the world and into forever.’

  ‘Forever,’ echoed Clementine. ‘That sounds delicious, like a dream come true.’

  CHAPTER 15

  Bravery

  ‘Here!’ said Clementine.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Tobias. ‘There’s that nice comfy bench we passed just before we left the hiking path — it had a marvellous view and was surrounded by pretty wildflowers.’ He turned around, Clementine’s thin body cradled in his arms. ‘I’ll admit that low ridge behind us is providing a little shelter from the wind, but frankly, old girl, the ground’s a bit of a mess here — all holes and piles of dirt and random clumps of grass.’

  Clementine nodded, so Freja spread out the rug and Tobias set her down.

  The girl, the dog and the writer joined her, huddling together for shelter and warmth. Finnegan rested his head in Freja’s lap and, exhausted from his terrifying journey on the cable car, fell fast sleep.

  Clementine sighed. ‘Beautiful.’ She pulled Freja tightly against her puffy jacket. ‘This is where I belong.’

  Freja was unsure of whether Clementine meant on the edge of Mount Pilatus or with the girl, the dog and the writer. Probably both, she decided, and smiled. ‘Me too.’

  And there they sat in silence, on the edge of the mountain, waiting.

  Although Freja didn’t actually know they were waiting. Not until some minutes later, when Clementine pressed one finger into her arm. It was the signal they’d used in the Arctic wilds when one of them had needed to alert the other to the presence of an animal without speaking or moving.

  Freja froze. She kept her body as still as a granite rock while scanning her eyes slowly from left to right.

  There! A furry brown head was peeping out of a hole in the ground just five metres from their feet.

  Freja shifted, ever so slightly, so that her elbow pressed into Clementine and she would know that Freja had seen. Finnegan, thankfully, slept on.

  The head poked slowly higher and higher until out of the burrow climbed a fat, furry marmot, her brown eyes shining with curiosity and hope. She looked like a giant squirrel, except that her tail was not as flashy or fluffy.

  ‘I say,’ gasped Tobias, suddenly aware that they had company.

  Freja pressed her fingers to her lips, and he nodded.

  The marmot stood on her hind legs. She stared at the strangers. She sniffed the air, her nose twitching, her front paws rubbing nervously at one another. Cautiously, she ventured forth on all four legs, stopped, stood and sniffed once more.

  Tobias, unused to sitting still and quiet for so long, reached up and pulled his pencil from behind his ear. The marmot scuttled forward, snatched it from his hand and dashed back to the patch of grass by her burrow. There she stood, turning the strange item around in her front paws. She nibbled along its entire length, chattering softly to herself.

  Another furry brown head popped out of the burrow at her feet and made a snatch for the pencil. The first marmot whipped it away and chirped angrily at him.

  Freja giggled, then clamped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. The marmot with the pencil scowled at Freja and gave the same angry retort as she had just given to the would-be pencil thief.

  Finnegan snorted, licked his nostrils and settled down into a deep slumber once more.

  The second marmot now emerged fully from the burrow and held a heated conversation with the first. Soon, three more marmots popped out of other burrows and a great argument sprang to life, right there on the mountainside at Freja’s, Clementine’s and Tobias’ feet. Freja could feel her heart pounding, her fingers tingling, her face splitting wide with joy. It was all she could do to keep herself from rushing forward to embrace the beautiful creatures. But Clementine had taught her well. She knew that she must sit and wait, watch and listen, and learn. If the animals came to her — and only then — she was allowed to touch and hug and talk. Or perhaps squawk or grunt, depending on the creature.

  The five marmots argued on and on and on. Freja half-expected a brawl to break out. But as suddenly as they started, they stopped, and all five pairs of eyes turned upon Tobias.

  Tobias gulped, hard enough for Freja and Clementine to hear.

  Freja bit her lip and shook with the giggles she was trying to quell.

  A lone marmot scuttled forth and crawled into Tobias’ lap. He sniffed about, muttering softly to himself until he discovered one of Tobias’ cardigan pockets. He removed the items, one by one, inspecting them, then tossing them aside — a handkerchief, two pencil stubs, an old envelope and a leaky ink bottle. Scuttling over Tobias’ lap, he began on the second pocket, removing a notepad, the little book titled European Mushrooms, a length of string, four crumpled newspaper clippings and a half-eaten bread roll. He held the bread roll aloft, chirped victoriously and dashed away to a distant clump of grass where he gobbled greedily. The four remaining marmots rushed forth and soon they were crawling all over Tobias, sniffing, tugging, poking. Tobias’ eyes grew wider and wider, and Freja ached with squashed laughter. Finally, annoyed that no more food was to be found, the four unlucky marmots stood on their hind legs at Tobias’ feet and gave him a loud and lusty scolding.

  Finnegan awoke with a start. ‘Boof!’ He sprang to his feet, but the marmots, enraged at the lack of food, were beyond reason. They now turned towards the dog and gave him a scolding too. Finnegan whimpered, dropped his head and slunk behind Freja.

  Freja could no longer contain her glee. She threw back her head and laughed until she hiccuped. The marmots froze.

  Oh, please, thought Freja. Please don’t go yet. I didn’t mean to frighten you.

  And, as if sensing her words, one by one, they crept towards her. The first to arrive leaned forward and placed a paw on her knee. Freja waited a moment, breath held, then reached out. She rested two fingers on the paw and looked into the bright brown eyes. The marmot blinked, then pulled her paw free and placed it on top of Freja’s fingers.

  Clementine shifted a little and Freja knew that her mother was seeing everything, delighting in everything. It was just like the times they’d shared in the Arctic wilds.

  The second marmot stood on his hind legs at Freja’s feet and rubbed his front paws together. He chirped politely as though introducing himself, then, without warning, he shrieked. He dived at the hem of Freja’s dress, ripped an acorn free and held it to his face. He sniffed, nibbled, popped it into his mouth and spat it out into his paws. He turned to his companions, held the treasure aloft and whistled. And then all five marmots were on top of Freja, ripping, tugging, gnawing acorns from her dress until they were all free and the hem was in tatters. Freja, Clementine and Tobias laughed until their bellies ached as the marmots scuttled back and forth gathering the acorns in their arms and mouths, all the while trying to steal from one another and make their way back to their burrows. When finally they had all disappeared, Freja looked down at the tattered hem of her dress and giggled once more.

  ‘This,’ sighed Clementine, plucking a thread free from Freja’s hem, ‘this is what I have missed most of all, Freja. You. Me. The animals. Not knowing what will happen next.’

  ‘We still don’t know what will happen next,’ said Freja. But as she smiled into Clementine’s face, she had the horrible sense that Clementine did know. That she knew without a doubt. />
  And Freja hoped that she would not share this knowledge of the future with her.

  Not now, at least.

  Not today.

  Not when everything had been feeling so good.

  ‘When I was in Rome,’ said Freja, ‘Nonna Rosa took me to a beautiful church, the Church of Santa Maria in Trastevere. And I talked to God about you, Clementine. I asked God to make you better, and Nonna Rosa said it was a good prayer and that God would hear me wherever I spoke to him. So I prayed for you by the river in Claviers. And in the Church of St Sylvestre. Although that was tricky because my friend Christophe was an altar boy and he had dirt beneath his chin and I laughed so hard with my friends Edith and Cosette that I almost forgot to pray. But God must have heard, because your eyes are working again and here we are on a mountainside, together — a true miracle!’ She caught her breath and beamed up into Clementine’s face, hoping that she would believe in the miracle too.

  Please, please, Clementine, believe in the miracle!

  ‘My precious girl,’ whispered Clementine. ‘So many friends! So many places. So many beautiful prayers. You have done so very much, and all without me.’

  Hot, prickly tears sprang to life behind Freja’s eyelids. ‘I’m sorry, Clementine,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to leave you out. I thought of you every day.’

  Clementine gasped. ‘No! No! Don’t feel bad, my beautiful girl. I am happy that you have had good things, good people in your life. And you have grown so brave and strong, beyond what I could ever have imagined for you, my dear, sweet girl. Why, today you were magnificent, the way you dealt with that silly ticket seller. I do believe that you could cope with anything that life throws your way!’

  Freja was glad that she had made her mother proud. She snuggled back into her arms, and soon felt Tobias wrap his arm around both her and Clementine. Finnegan squashed in against their backs. Like a family. A safe and happy family.

  ‘Tobby,’ whispered Clementine, ‘when you and Freja visit me tomorrow, could you bring the little treasure chest, please?’

  ‘Are you sure, old girl?’ asked Tobias.

  ‘Yes,’ said Clementine. ‘It’s time.’

  CHAPTER 16

  Ich bin lecker!

  ‘Willkommen! Willkommen! Herzlich Willkommen, Freja Sweet-tea and Tobias Chocolatey!’ Frau Niederhauser was standing at the cake table arranging chocolate cupcakes into a pyramid. She smiled and placed the final cupcake on top to form the peak, but kept her hand hovering nearby. She straightened the cupcake and pursed her lips. Still not satisfied, she lifted the cupcake, turned it around and placed it back. Her hand remained poised for action.

  ‘It looks perfect,’ said Freja. ‘Truly beautiful, Frau Niederhauser.’

  ‘Ja! Ja!’ the chocolatier agreed in her sharp, buzzing German accent. ‘I know this is a fact. But the cupcake looks almost too delicious and I think . . .’ Her hand moved over the cake in a spiralling motion. ‘I think . . . Nein! I know! The cupcake does not want to sit there and look beautiful. It wants to be eaten. It demands to be eaten. I can hear it shouting at me right now: “Ich bin lecker! I am yummy! You must gobble me now, old woman!”’ Grabbing the cupcake, she peeled back the patty paper, closed her eyes and took an enormous bite. She chewed, grinned, swallowed and murmured her approval. Opening her eyes, she rubbed her tummy and thrust a second cupcake towards Freja.

  Freja giggled, took the cake and bit into it. At first, her teeth caught in the thick, buttery icing, but soon slipped through light, fluffy chocolate cake, then into the rich gooey ganache that was hiding in the middle. Freja’s eyes bulged, and her mouth split wide with cake crumbs and chocolate and happiness.

  ‘It is delicious, ja?’ asked Frau Niederhauser, wiping the crumbs from her own mouth with the corner of her apron. ‘It is something Vivi has created just this morning. She is a true genius with the cake and the pastry. A treasure.’ She pointed to the kitchen where the pretty chef was working behind the bench with moulds and trays and a giant bowl of melted chocolate.

  ‘A treasure,’ sighed Tobias, and he walked towards Vivi.

  ‘Tobby!’ cried Freja. ‘Don’t forget the glass!’

  The writer stopped, his nose just millimetres from disaster. He pressed the palms of his hands against the glass and waited.

  Vivi looked up and fluttered her liquorice-thick lashes. Grabbing a bowl of melted chocolate and a pastry brush, she walked around the bench, stood before Tobias and painted a giant melted chocolate heart on her side of the glass.

  ‘Ooooh,’ sighed Tobias. He pressed his hand to chest and staggered backward until he met with the life-sized chocolate cow standing in the middle of the shop. He reached blindly about for something to stop himself from falling and snapped off the cow’s tail.

  Freja gasped.

  Vivi let out a yelp from the kitchen.

  Frau Niederhauser smiled and cooed, ‘It is the chocolate! It melts the heart like it melts in the mouth. And when the heart is melted, it is open to love. True love. The chocolate is so powerful! So perfect!’

  Tobias tried to press the cow’s tail back onto her bottom, but of course it wouldn’t stick. By now, those seated at the café tables had turned to watch and titters of laughter rose up to rattle and dance around the pear-and-bluebird chandeliers.

  Freja was tempted to hide behind the cow, but remembered Clementine’s delight at her bravery and made herself stay where she was. Which wasn’t so bad anyway, because all eyes were focused on Tobias and the cow’s injured bottom . . . and, soon, they were turned back to their plates and mugs. Laughter was supressed by mouthfuls of tarts and éclairs, gâteaux and truffles, and slurps of creamy hot chocolate.

  Freja smiled. ‘Nobody can resist Leckerbissen’s chocolate,’ she whispered. Taking another bite of the cupcake, she chewed slowly, luxuriously, looking around at the café tables, recognising her own bliss in the faces of the other customers.

  Except for one woman, in the back corner. Freja took another bite of the cupcake and shifted a little towards the chocolate cow so she could watch without being watched. The woman had flaming red hair and matching red lipstick. A black mole sat on her chin, just below the left side of her mouth. On her head, she wore a small black hat with a veil that fell across her face, down to her nose. On the table in front of her sat a generous wedge of chocolate gâteau and a mug of hot chocolate. But both the gâteau and the cloud of cream at the top of the mug were untouched. In fact, the woman seemed totally disinterested in her food. On the other hand, she seemed fascinated by her surroundings. Her eyes scanned slowly around Leckerbissen, across the front of the shop, past windows and walls, lingering for an extra-long time at the front door. Was she waiting for someone? Was she expecting a friend to dash through the door at any moment, hungry and grateful for cake? But then the woman’s gaze slid up to the ceiling and wandered back and forth between the chandeliers. Finally, she turned her attention to the kitchen, her eyes roving along the benches, up and down the walls, lingering for an extra-long time on the wide industrial oven and the point at which the exhaust fan disappeared into the ceiling.

  Turning back to the table, the woman sat for a moment, rubbing her hands together. It was a strange gesture. Nervous, perhaps. Was she trying to resist the gâteau? And if so, why? Why on earth would anyone order Leckerbissen’s most mouth-watering delicacies, then leave them untouched? Wouldn’t it make more sense just to stay away in the first place?

  Freja peered beneath the cow’s neck and wrinkled her nose.

  Suddenly, the woman stabbed her fork into the wedge of gâteau, pushed back her chair and marched out of the shop.

  ‘Crazy,’ whispered Freja.

  In a flash, a man sitting nearby slid the untouched gâteau and hot chocolate to his own table and tucked in with gusto. Freja giggled and turned back towards Frau Niederhauser.

  The chocolatier was now wrapping the cow’s tail in tissue paper so Tobias could take it home to nibble with his evening coffee. Which reminded Fr
eja why they were here.

  ‘And please, Frau Niederhauser,’ said Freja, ‘we’d like some of those chocolate cupcakes and a box of chocolate-coated caramel squares. A big box.’ She stepped a little closer and explained, ‘They are for Clementine, my mother. She has been very ill and tired, but today she was able to go up Mount Pilatus because she ate Herr Berna’s chocolate and was filled with energy. Chocolate makes her strong.’

  ‘Ja, but of course chocolate makes her strong!’ cried Frau Niederhauser. ‘Chocolate works miracles.’

  ‘Miracles,’ whispered Freja. ‘I hope so.’

  The girl and the writer walked through the streets to the riverside where they found Finnegan seated at a café table with Herr Basil and his three Saint Bernards. Herr Basil sipped a cup of coffee and ate a large piece of Nusstorte, a rich caramel walnut tart. The four dogs were licking their plates to a shine.

  On seeing Freja, Finnegan scrambled across the top of the table and leapt to the ground. There, he frolicked about, licking and barking, dribbling and grinning. Freja laughed and told him to sit, and he did, but he couldn’t contain his excitement, so he frolicked and barked and dribbled some more.

  ‘Guten Tag!’ cried Herr Basil. ‘I brought my boys, Vipp, Vopp and Vupp, down for a schnitzel and we were joined by your dog, Herr Appleby. He likes the Swiss cuisine, ja?’

  ‘Indeed!’ said Tobias, chuckling. ‘He also likes the French cuisine, the Italian cuisine, the English cuisine, the garbage-bin cuisine and the wardrobe cuisine. In fact, he is charmingly good-natured when it comes to eating and doesn’t like to say no to anything.’

  ‘Aha! What about the bed linen?’ asked Herr Basil.

  ‘He loves bed linen,’ said Freja. ‘He ate an entire pillow case last week and then started in on my pillow. There were feathers everywhere.’

  Herr Basil frowned. ‘But he could not eat five sheets in one go?’

  ‘No,’ said Tobias. ‘Not even Finnegan would get that carried away. Five socks, perhaps, but not five sheets. Although if they were spread with jam, he’d give it a jolly good go! But why do you ask?’