Not All Chocolate and Cuckoo Clocks

by Rebecca Cohen

  “I went skiing over the New Year, so I’ve had my fix for the season. I’ve taught several friends to ski. I’ll have you downhilling before you know it.” Truthfully, he’d not been out on the snow as much as he liked this season, but that was due to work, and getting to combine spending time with Mark and being surrounded by the magnificent mountain views was a win-win situation. “If you’d rather, we can go and see if it’s possible to book you a professional lesson.”

  “No. I mean, I want you to teach me.” Mark flashed him an adorable crooked smile, and Steffen was going to need all his control not to kiss him senseless.

  “Good. Then let us get you comfortable on your skis. The sooner you realize you can control them, the sooner you’ll feel more secure.” Steffen clicked himself into his skis and positioned himself to stand in front of Mark. He’d chosen a quiet, flat area just off to the side of the start of the nursery slopes that would be ideal to teach Mark a few basics. Basics Steffen had learned when he was five and had first been taken skiing by his father, but he didn’t think Mark would appreciate that fact.

  “I’m not convinced I’ll ever be comfortable with planks of wood strapped to my feet, but when in Rome… or in Basel.”

  “Technically this is Engelberg, but I take your point.” Steffen laughed as Mark stuck out his tongue. “Right, now just get used to the skis being there. Take a few little steps to the right and then back to the left, and once you are ready, slide forward a foot at a time without lifting your feet.”

  “Er….”

  Mark’s hesitation was understandable and endearing. “Watch me.”

  For Steffen the simple movements were child’s play, but he’d seen enough terrified beginners who should have taken the time to learn the absolute basics to warrant spending the time going through this with Mark. The joy on Mark’s face as he completed his tasks was reward enough.

  “Very good.”

  “At this rate I’ve a chance of becoming a British Winter Olympian.”

  “I fear that you’d qualify more on the grounds of lack of competition than your own ability. Your country is not what you would call well-known for winter sports that don’t involve going down a toboggan run on little more than a tray.”

  “Oi! Less of that. You Swiss have unfair advantage, seeing your country is 80 percent mountain.” Mark wobbled on his skis and fell backward, landing with a small ouff. “Now look what you made me do.”

  Steffen slid over to him and pulled Mark to his feet, then kept hold of his hands. “Let’s not fight over both our great sporting nations.”

  “A truce is brokered. For now. Come on, you’re meant to be making me a first-rate skier, not a snow shuffler.”

  Teaching Mark was fun, and he took the inevitable falls in stride and didn’t even complain too much when he fell forward over his skis as he botched what should have been a simple snowplow to bring him to a stop. If Steffen took great pleasure helping to dust the snow off Mark a bit too thoroughly, then he would consider it a perk of the job. “Do you think you would like to try the nursery slopes?” Steffen asked about an hour later, confident that Mark was ready, having survived being pulled along by his ski poles and a few attempts of skiing on the flat.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Good.” He handed Mark his ski poles, after picking them up from where they had once again ended up on the ground. “Don’t worry. I will never be far from your side.”

  “My very own knight in shining armor,” said Mark with a shove, almost making Steffen lose his balance.

  Steffen led the way to the nursery slopes, which were unsurprisingly busy given it was the middle of spring school holidays. Most of the other people learning were kids, and although Mark wasn’t the only adult, he was definitely outnumbered by a significant margin. Steffen watched with pride as Mark cautiously set out on his first downhill run, following behind at a safe distance but close enough to be there if Mark were to fall. He might be biased, but Mark looked good on skis. Mark had a grace about him that made Steffen think he could easily improve, and he momentarily indulged in a daydream of the two of them heading to Klosters for an intimate getaway.

  Mark came to a perfect snowplow stop and turned to face him with a huge grin, pulling up his ski goggles to rest on top of his head. “Did you see that? I did it!”

  Steffen slid expertly next to him. “Marvelous. I think you could be a good skier with practice.”

  “I didn’t think I’d be able to even do this. But up here, with your help and patience…. And it’s so beautiful. I can’t believe how much I enjoyed it.” Mark looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. “I could get used to this.”

  Steffen could too, but held his tongue. “You wish to go again?”

  “Of course!”

  They spent the rest of the morning on the nursery slopes, Mark improving with every run, and Steffen thought that if Mark were ever to take to the slopes again, a few professional lessons would help him quickly improve to a point he could try some of the runs Steffen preferred.

  It was a good time to stop. Their morning passes had another hour left, but it was getting increasingly busy, and Steffen knew that morning skiing, especially for someone not used to it, was hard work. “Lunch here or head back to Basel?”

  Mark leaned on his poles. “I’m knackered. Can we head to yours and grab something? I thought I could treat you to dinner tonight as a thank-you.”

  “If you are able to move, then I will willingly let you. Let us get the cable car down—with some luck they will not be so busy.”

  The queue for the cable car was virtually nonexistent. Steffen guessed most people were making the most of their morning passes, squeezing out their time to the final minutes. He skied here a few times a year when he got the chance, although he preferred to head southeast for his longer breaks. But Engelberg attracted many local visitors who, like him, wanted an easy fix of snow.

  “I’m so glad you suggested coming,” Mark said as they stepped onto the cable car. “I wanted to give it a go but didn’t think I’d like it so much.”

  “It would have been a crime not to have come while you were here. It’s so close to Basel that I would be failing in my tour guide duty not to have brought you.”

  The other occupants of the cable car were a family of four and three couples, none of whom bothered with them as they stood in the farthest corner by a window, the astounding views of the mountain far more exciting. Mark stood close, and Steffen couldn’t resist placing a hand on his hip. He wasn’t one for public displays of affection. Outside of the darkness of a club where he might engage in more, he preferred a subtle gesture. He didn’t care what other people thought. This was solely down to his own desire to keep something important to himself. Mark was important, more than anyone in years. What had grown between them was too precious to cast away because of a mere five hundred miles.

  “I’d much rather be here next weekend than Reading,” Mark said. “It’ll be gray and miserable, and I’ll have to deal with my mad aunt and nosey sister.”

  Steffen hadn’t thought much about Mark’s upcoming trip back to the UK, but now he despised the idea. He didn’t want to lose any time with Mark. “I’m sure the views will not be as inspiring.”

  “Not just the views.”

  Mark smiled up at him, and Steffen couldn’t resist leaning down to steal a whisper of a kiss. He would need to act soon. The Gryse family were not cowards. They fought for what they wanted, and Steffen was going to live up to his name.

  Chapter Thirteen

  READING WAS a fucking miserable gray place. Somehow Mark had never noticed it before, but being back on a wet winter weekend when he wanted to be five hundred miles away made everything ten times worse. Getting between Heathrow Airport and Reading had made him grind his teeth and wish for the Swiss transport network, despite having only been in the country an hour. Back when he’d booked the flight, he thought by this point he’d be looking forward to returning to the UK, and his
parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary would’ve been a good excuse.

  He hadn’t expected he’d meet someone like Steffen. Basel was meant to break the lull in his career, not break his heart. He also hadn’t thought returning to his flat would be so anticlimactic. The pile of unexciting letters waiting for him and the stale air from not having anyone living in the place made him even more fucking miserable. The distinct lack of Steffen was unbearable, made even worse when he thought that in less than a month he’d be back in Reading permanently.

  To avoid having to take the bus, he’d got a cab to the hotel that was the venue of his parents’ party, but even that annoyed him, having got caught up in roadworks with his driver moaning constantly about the state of the roads. He arrived late and suspected most of the guests had already made good use of the free bar. His mum and dad hugged him, demanding to know all about Switzerland, and he only managed to escape when the speeches started.

  The cheesy music the DJ selected seemed to be working a treat with most of the guests. Even mad Aunt May was up dancing. He stood back and watched his parents bopping along, wondering if he’d slipped into a surreal alternative dimension where he was the responsible adult who would need to step in at some point and limit his mum’s drinks.

  He picked up a sausage roll from the buffet. Being away, he hadn’t been involved in planning the event, and while the hotel had put on a nice spread and decorated tastefully, he couldn’t help but think that this was more for the rest of the family than his parents. His dad no doubt would have preferred something more low-key, perhaps just his parents, him, his sister, and her husband in a high-class restaurant. Or maybe he didn’t know them as well as he thought he did, as they both appeared to be enjoying the dancing.

  Laura, his sister, handed him a pint of lager. “There you go, you miserable bugger. Cheer up.”

  “Hate to tell you this, but telling me to cheer up won’t actually cheer me up. Where’s your husband gone? Shouldn’t you be annoying him?”

  “God, you’re a shit when you’re brooding. Harry’s playing pool with Uncle Bob—I warned him not to play for money, but he didn’t listen, and now he’s twenty quid down.”

  “Surely one of the first things you should have told him was never bet against Uncle Bob on anything.” He took a sip of lager and grimaced. “What is this?”

  “Fosters, I think. I just asked for whatever was on draft.” She nudged him. “You turning your nose up? Not la-de-da enough, now you’ve gone all Swiss.”

  “I’ve hardly gone Swiss. I’ll be back for good before you know it.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Is that the problem? You don’t want to come back?”

  His little sister was as shrewd as she was clever, and being in possession of a double first from Oxford meant she was not lacking in brains. “I dunno. I didn’t think I’d like it out there as much as I do.”

  “Not like you to get attached to somewhere so quickly. Took you ages to settle when you went to uni. You couldn’t wait to get back to Reading after a couple of weeks.”

  “I was fine once I made a few mates in Nottingham.” He’d been awkward and homesick, and not as mature as some of the others he’d been thrust into student halls with. But once he’d joined a couple of societies and found a few friends, he’d been all right, grew into himself, and hit the gay scene with gusto. “Besides, I’m in Basel for work, not pleasure.”

  “Is it going all right? I thought you were getting a bit bored before you went.”

  Laura was right. Before Basel he’d been growing stagnant in the job. The best projects were always at head office, and he’d started to feel he was getting crumbs rather than something really interesting to work on. “It’s great. It was a bit daunting when I arrived, and I have to do some bloody long hours, but I like it. It took a bit of time to settle down, but my Swiss boss told me the client is really happy with me, and there’s a buzz in the office that you just don’t get here.” The buzz in his love life had also helped a great deal.

  “Life’s not all work. Have you made friends there?”

  “My colleagues are nice,” he said carefully.

  “Anyone more than ‘nice’? I know you’ve not really recovered properly from splitting up from John, but maybe there’s someone who can help you get back on the horse.”

  Mark nearly choked on his beer. “What? That’s bullshit—John is ancient history.”

  “Oh, come off it. Mum told me she was worried that you’re working longer hours, not going out as much, and haven’t even had a sniff at a new boyfriend since John left.”

  “Rubbish!” he spat. His mum was the last person he discussed his love life with. It was bad enough she asked him if he had a boyfriend every time he called. The sad sigh that accompanied his negative response made him count to ten silently in his head to stop him saying something he’d regret.

  “Hit a nerve, did I?” Laura said, a smug smile tugging at her lips.

  Mark didn’t want to be having this conversation again. “John and me split up because I was already working long hours, and what we had wasn’t enough for me to stop working long hours, so that should tell you the state of our relationship.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you’ve not started seeing someone new. I know you work hard, Mark, but you weren’t a hermit.”

  She was like a dog with a bone, and he answered before he could stop himself. “Who says I didn’t?”

  Laura let out a gleeful shriek. “Oh, so there is a Mr. More Than Nice. You’ve got yourself a Swiss fella! No wonder you’re here sulking like an old goat.”

  He knew it was too late to try and deny it. He’d never been able to lie convincingly, and Laura would see through him straightaway. “I have met someone, but it’s not serious. Casual fun while I’m out there.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Hmmm.”

  “What does hmmm mean?”

  “If it were casual, you wouldn’t be here moping.” She wore a calculating look that he thought her accountancy clients were probably familiar with. “What’s stopping you staying out there?”

  “The little problem that my job is here,” he scoffed.

  “Is that all? I bet if they thought enough of you to send you to Basel for three months, they would consider letting you move there. By the sound of it, your boss is happy with you. What does your fella think of it?”

  “He doesn’t think anything about it.” That was as big a problem as not having a job. Steffen’s demeanor had changed since they’d first met, but the situation hadn’t. “He made it clear at the start that he wasn’t interested in anything more. I’d hate to see his face if I suggested staying. It’d probably give him palpitations.”

  “So you haven’t actually talked to him about it.”

  “No, and there’s no point. Drop it, Laura.” Mark had decided not to mention anything to Steffen, not wanting to hear that his ideas were nothing more than wishful thinking.

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “Oh, all right. But don’t miss out on someone who can make you happy—I nearly lost Harry, thanks to him being an idiot on his motorbike.”

  Laura was brilliant at emotional blackmail, and bringing up the fact his brother-in-law had ended up in intensive care for three weeks, meaning they’d had to move their wedding, was a low but well-targeted blow. “I promise I’ll think it over.”

  Thinking it over wouldn’t be a problem. The issue would be keeping his thoughts realistic. Staying in Basel seemed too much of a pipe dream to make it real. He watched as his dad twirled his mum around the dance floor. Forty years of marriage and his dad still looked at his mum as if she had hung the stars. They’d had their problems, no relationship was perfect, but they’d overcome everything thrown at them. Mark knew it was where his desire for something long-lived came from. He wanted what his parents had, but he also knew that not everybody got to have the love of their lives.

  HIS FLIGHT landed on time, and with only hand luggage he should be back at his apartment in less
than an hour. There’d be hardly any traffic on the roads, with it being a Sunday afternoon, and his flight was half-empty, so even if there were other flights landing at this time, he’d have no problem getting a seat on the bus. Waiting to leave the plane, he switched off flight mode on his mobile and was surprised when it vibrated. He had a message from Steffen.

  Hope visit went well. Missed you this weekend. If you are not too tired, will you meet me at the Rio Bar at 7pm?

  They hadn’t made arrangements to meet today, as Mark wasn’t sure how bad his hangover was going to be, and having not flown the route on a Sunday, he had no idea if the flight would be on time. He smiled to himself. He wouldn’t read too much into the message despite wanting to, but he didn’t have to think too much about the reply.

  Missed you too. Def not too tired to meet. See you at 7.

  Chapter Fourteen

  SHOWERED AND changed, Mark set off for Barfüsserplatz, walking faster than usual. Despite none of the shops being open, there were plenty of people milling around the streets. For some reason, it seemed to be in the Swiss blood to spend their Sundays wandering aimlessly.

  Mark entered the Rio Bar and glanced around, looking for Steffen. The Rio Bar wasn’t like the other places he’d been with Steffen. No wood paneling, for a start, and the neon light behind the bar looked like it wouldn’t be out of place in an American diner. The whole place had a retro-fifties feel to it, but he wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or if had been open that long and never redecorated. It wasn’t a big place, and what the owners had crammed into it made it feel smaller. He saw Steffen seated in one of the booths on the left side, about halfway down, tapping away on his phone.

  Steffen didn’t look up until Mark was nearly at the booth, and when he did, the smile that spread across Steffen’s face lifted his whole demeanor. “Mark, you are early. Not that I am complaining.”