Alice-Miranda in the Alps

by Jacqueline Harvey

  ‘But I made a promise and I broke it and now I feel all mixed up inside,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘When I was younger I felt like I always knew the right thing to do, but now I worry that I meddle when perhaps I shouldn’t. The older I get, the less sure I am about lots of things.’

  ‘Oh, darling, how wonderful to know that at your age,’ Cecelia said with a smile. ‘It happens to all of us, usually not until we’re much older with a lot more mistakes under our belts.’

  ‘Is that true?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  Cecelia nodded. ‘The thing about you, my precious girl,’ Cecelia said, looking into her daughter’s big brown eyes, ‘is that you have the best instincts of anyone I’ve ever known. If your first reaction was to tell Daddy so that he could help Uncle Florian, then I have no doubts whatsoever that you did the right thing.’

  Alice-Miranda snuggled in next to her mother. ‘I love you, Mummy.’

  Cecelia felt a lump rising in her throat. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. ‘I love you too, my darling girl, and I couldn’t be more proud.’

  Cecelia reached across and snatched a tissue from beside the bed. She was fully expecting a scolding from her daughter, who often told her she was far too sentimental for her own good, but when she turned back the child’s eyes were closed. Cecelia gently took out the extra pillows and Alice-Miranda nestled under the feather-down duvet, fast asleep.

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the final day of White Turf for the year,’ a voice boomed over the loudspeakers. ‘And what a beautiful day it is.’

  ‘I didn’t realise it would be like a carnival,’ Jacinta said, her eyes dancing across the ocean-blue sky and craggy mountain peaks. Although the children had seen the marquees and the racetrack from the hotel, it was all so much bigger up close.

  ‘Looks like fun, doesn’t it?’ Cecelia said with a grin.

  White tents were clustered together like a snowy Bedouin village, interspersed among food stalls selling all manner of Swiss treats. The crowd had been steadily building since the gates opened a couple of hours before; a rainbow of coats and hats providing splashes of colour against the frosty backdrop.

  Lucas marvelled at a man who walked past with what looked like a raccoon on top of his head. ‘I want that hat,’ he announced.

  Jacinta grimaced. ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘How come there are so many dogs here?’ Sloane said. She pointed to an enormous Bernese mountain dog being led by a girl who was not much bigger than her pet. ‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’

  The girl stopped for the children to admire him.

  ‘What’s his name?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘He’s Groβ,’ the child replied.

  ‘He’s lovely,’ Millie said. ‘Much better mannered than that horrible Princess Gertie.’

  ‘Do you mean Herr Fanger’s dog?’ the little girl asked.

  Millie winced, wishing she’d kept quiet. St Moritz wasn’t a very big place. It stood to reason that all the locals knew each other.

  ‘My mama owns the grooming salon that Princess Gertie comes to.’ The girl smiled and lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘I do not like her, either. She has got a very bad temper.’

  ‘She sure does,’ Millie said, nodding. ‘Herr Fanger told us she doesn’t like getting wet. I feel sorry for your poor mother.’

  With that, the little girl bid them goodbye and walked on, stopping again after a few steps as more patrons admired her dog.

  Coloured flags and sponsors’ signboards adorned the railings of the racetrack and a jazz band could be heard in the distance.

  Sep’s stomach grumbled. ‘Can you smell that apple strudel?’ he asked, sniffing the air.

  ‘I want to find some potato rösti,’ Lucas said. The boy had fallen in love with the Swiss dish after devouring a huge plate of the grated-potato cake topped with a fried egg and bacon for lunch the day before.

  A man wearing a thick parka and a navy beanie walked towards them. ‘Good morning, Madame Highton-Smith, I am Klaus Gerber. I will be looking after you and your party for the day.’

  ‘Hello Herr Gerber,’ Cecelia said, giving the man a warm handshake. ‘Let me introduce everyone.’

  ‘Welcome, welcome,’ the man said, greeting them all. ‘Would you like to follow me to the sponsors’ tent? From there I can direct you to any of the things you might like to see.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Cecelia said. ‘This is our first time at White Turf and I know we’re all keen to see pretty much everything.’

  The entourage followed Herr Gerber to a large white marquee, where they entered past a security man with a furry hat and a headset over the top. Once they were all inside Herr Gerber located their passes.

  ‘Wear these at all times and you will have complete access to the tents and the VIP areas as well as the track for the presentation,’ he instructed. He then passed out programs and alerted them to the signature event, the Highton’s Cup, which was to be the last race of the day.

  The marquee was beautifully decorated with sumptuous white lounges, plush rugs and a draped ceiling. There was a bar set up at one end and a long marble countertop where chefs were busily preparing food. Expensive-looking watches were displayed in glass cabinets. Already there was quite a crowd inside.

  ‘Wow,’ Sloane whispered to Jacinta, giving the girl a nudge. ‘She looks like she escaped from the henhouse.’

  The woman’s jacket was made of copper-coloured feathers, which, coupled with her deeply tanned face, gave her the appearance of an unplucked rotisserie chicken. ‘Who would wear that?’ Jacinta giggled.

  Sloane winced. ‘Not me.’

  ‘This is lovely,’ Dolly Oliver gushed as a young man offered her and Shilly drinks from a tray. The woman grinned and reached for a glass of champagne. ‘Why not?’

  Shilly took one too. ‘Thank you.’

  The two older women clinked their crystal champagne flutes.

  ‘Mummy, can we have a look outside?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Of course, darling. Just check in here again in a couple of hours if you like – or whenever you get hungry,’ Cecelia said.

  ‘We’ll probably see you out there,’ Pippa said. ‘According to the program, the first race is due to start in about twenty minutes.’

  ‘What sort is it?’ Millie asked.

  ‘It’s a flat race, so a regular horserace,’ Pippa said. ‘They have one skijoring race later in the afternoon and one trotting race too.’

  ‘That skijoring sounds nuts,’ Lucas said. ‘Can you imagine being towed on skis by a galloping horse around a frozen racetrack?’

  ‘It’s no crazier than racing horses with spiked shoes on ice, if you ask me,’ Jacinta said.

  The children bid their farewells and charged off out into the sunshine, eager to find out what else was on offer.

  ‘Where should we go first?’ Millie said.

  ‘Do you want to have a look at the horses?’ Lucas asked, remembering the parade ring they’d seen on the way to the hospitality tent.

  ‘Sounds good,’ Millie said. ‘I want to see the shoes. I’ve been trying to imagine horseshoes like mountain-climbing cleats and I just don’t understand how they’d work at all.’

  The children made their way through the crowd and emerged at the entrance to an oval-shaped enclosure. Several of the entrants of the first race were being led around inside and one of the beasts stopped right in front of them. The groom gently ran his hand over the creature’s foreleg before picking it up to check something in its hoof.

  ‘That’s not what I imagined at all,’ Millie said. The spikes on the shoes were rounded and only a centimetre long.

  ‘Are you looking at the shoes?’ a man beside her asked. He was tall and wore a thick blue-and-green checked coat and a Tyrolean hat.

  Millie nodded. ‘I was curious as to how the horses could get a grip on the ice,’ she replied.

  ‘There is actually a very thick layer of snow on top of the ice,’ the man explai
ned. ‘The groomers compact it to just the right consistency, so the horses are running on snow, not ice. There is very little danger to them all.’

  ‘That’s good to know,’ Millie said, relieved. ‘I’d been imagining their shoes with great big metal spikes and wondering how the poor creatures didn’t cut themselves.’

  ‘Do you ride?’ the man asked.

  Millie nodded. ‘I do and so does Alice-Miranda.’ She gestured towards her friend, who was standing beside her.

  He eyed the girls closely. ‘Can you gallop?’

  ‘Of course,’ Millie said.

  ‘Millie’s amazing,’ Alice-Miranda enthused. ‘Her pony, Chops, is really fast. He always beats me and Bony. I’m Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones.’ She held out her gloved hand, which the man shook.

  ‘Johan Heffelfinger at your service,’ the man said with a smile.

  ‘I’m Millie,’ the child said, ‘and this is Sloane and Jacinta and Sep and Lucas.’

  ‘They’re both brilliant riders,’ Sloane piped up. ‘They win ribbons and compete and race each other like maniacs. And, just so you know, I’m not a rider and neither are they,’ she said, pointing at the others.

  ‘How would you two like to compete today?’ the man said with a glint in his eye.

  ‘As if that could happen,’ Millie scoffed. ‘You’re joking, right?’

  Herr Heffelfinger shook his head.

  ‘It would be amazing but I imagine the jockeys have to train for ages to race on the snow and no one in their right mind would put a child on a million-dollar racehorse,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  Millie stepped forward. ‘I’d give it a go.’

  ‘All right then, as long as your parents agree, would you like to race for me?’ Johan grinned at the girls and adjusted his hat.

  Millie blanched. ‘I didn’t think you were serious!’

  ‘Two of my riders have come down with colds and, well, it is hard to find kids who can ride at short notice,’ the man replied.

  ‘Why do you need kids?’ Millie asked. ‘Can’t you afford grown-ups?’

  The man laughed heartily. ‘I could hardly ask a fully grown adult to race a Shetland pony for me, could I?’

  Alice-Miranda’s eyes widened. ‘Is it a children’s race?’ she asked.

  Johan nodded. ‘Ja, it is only down the straight and it is lots of fun.’

  ‘Shetlands!’ Millie exclaimed. ‘I’m in.’

  Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘Me too.’

  Just as the girls turned to run back to the sponsors’ tent, Cecelia, Hamish and Pippa walked towards them.

  Pippa looked at the pair, who were jumping up and down as if they were on springs. ‘What are you two so excited about?’

  ‘See that man there?’ Millie pointed and he gave a wave. ‘His name is Johan and he needs two riders for the program and he asked if we’d like to do it.’

  Pippa shook her head. ‘You’ve got be kidding, Millie. There is no way you’re going out onto that track on a racehorse.’

  ‘But, Pippa, it’s not on a racehorse. There’s a kids’ race on Shetland ponies, so it won’t be too fast at all.’ Alice-Miranda’s eyes were pleading.

  ‘Pleeeeeease,’ Millie begged.

  Cecelia looked at Pippa, then at Hamish. ‘What do you think?’

  Pippa shrugged. ‘I’m fine with it if you two are.’

  ‘I’d do it!’ Hamish said, grinning widely.

  Millie rolled her eyes. ‘You’d squash the pony, Daddy.’

  Cecelia laughed. ‘Okay. Just promise you’ll be careful.’

  Millie and Alice-Miranda squealed with delight and hugged each other tightly. Then they rushed forward and hugged their mothers.

  ‘You guys are the best!’ Millie exclaimed, high-fiving her father.

  Johan Heffelfinger walked towards the group and Alice-Miranda introduced him to the parents. ‘Thank you for letting me borrow your girls,’ he said. ‘It sounds as if they are both very accomplished riders. Would you like to come with me and we can get them ready?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Pippa said.

  ‘If you see Dolly and Shilly, it’s probably best not to mention anything just yet,’ Cecelia said to the other children. ‘I wouldn’t want them worrying unnecessarily.’

  Lucas grinned. ‘We won’t say a word, but we’ll make sure that they’re trackside for the big event.’

  ‘According to the program it’s on right after this first race, which is about to start,’ Cecelia said, consulting the timetable of events. ‘Why don’t you all go and watch and we’ll see you as soon as the girls are ready?’

  ‘Wish us luck,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  ‘Good luck,’ the four friends chorused and disappeared into the sea of people.

  ‘Isn’t that Grouchy Doerflinger?’ Sloane said, looking at a woman dressed in a long brown fur coat with a matching hat and large sunglasses.

  ‘How did you recognise her?’ Jacinta said.

  Sloane pointed at the man several steps behind Delphine. Otto Fanger was holding Gertie. This time the pooch was wearing a white fur coat with pompoms tied under her neck and matching white sunglasses.

  ‘She’s got booties too!’ Sep exclaimed.

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ Lucas said, as he and the others convulsed with laughter.

  Sloane, Sep, Jacinta and Lucas forged their way to the edge of the track, and then up into one of the temporary grandstands that had been erected for the event.

  ‘Hurry up,’ Sloane said. ‘The race has already started.’

  ‘There’s some space over there,’ Lucas said, pointing to the back row.

  The children shuffled past the seated patrons, who grumbled about them blocking their view.

  ‘They’re so fast,’ Sloane gasped, her tummy fluttering at the thought of her friends riding next.

  As the field rounded the bend and charged down the straight towards the finish line, it was neck and neck between a jockey in red and another in blue. A huge bay horse with a jockey in green silks surged to the front, leaving the rest of the field in its powdery cloud.

  Jacinta shouted and waved at Mrs Oliver and Mrs Shillingsworth, who made their way up into the stand to join them.

  ‘Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it?’ Mrs Shillingsworth panted. ‘Oh dear, I have to catch my breath.’

  ‘Not as exciting as the next race is going to be,’ Sloane said with a sly grin.

  ‘Why is that, dear?’ Shilly asked.

  ‘Our very special race is soon to begin,’ the announcer said as a huge cheer went up around the track, ‘but first we will have the presentation for the last race.’

  It only seemed to take minutes for the jockeys and their owners to gather onto the podium, where they were presented with exquisite crystal trophies and a giant novelty cheque to the winner.

  ‘What’s everyone so excited about now?’ Dolly said, craning her neck to see.

  As the ground crew cleared away the podium, several stumpy ponies trotted out from behind one of the tents and onto the track.

  Shilly smiled. ‘Oh, aren’t they precious?’

  A roar of laughter echoed through the crowd as a pony carrying a rather large rider appeared and darted all over the racecourse.

  Dolly giggled. ‘Good grief, I hope the lad gets a headstart to give him a fighting chance.’

  ‘Can you see them yet?’ Jacinta asked, leaning out around the other spectators.

  ‘See who?’ Dolly asked.

  The little ponies ran all over the track towards the finish line, warming up.

  ‘There’s Alice-Miranda!’ Sloane yelled, jumping to her feet and calling out to the girl.

  ‘No!’ Shilly’s jaw dropped. ‘What on earth is she doing down there?’

  The tiny child waved up at the crowd. She was wearing lilac silks with a white star in the middle of her back and her Shetland pony was a small bay steed with a very jaunty gait.

  ‘There’s Millie,’ Sep called out as the child cantered past on
a grey pony. Millie’s silks were red with white stripes.

  Dolly’s eyes were the size of dinner plates as she struggled to understand. ‘Does Cecelia know about this?’

  Lucas nodded. ‘She and Pippa told them they could do it.’

  ‘Mad! Stark-raving mad, the pair of them,’ Shilly blustered. ‘What if they fall?’

  ‘Then they can keep Cyril company,’ Sloane said cheekily.

  The other children stared at the girl.

  ‘What? I didn’t mean it,’ she protested.

  ‘I can’t believe Cecelia would have encouraged them,’ Dolly Oliver tutted. ‘I wish Hugh was still here. He’d have talked sense into the woman.’

  ‘Have you ever seen Bony and Chops at full gallop? Shetlands will be a walk in the park for those two,’ Jacinta said, trying to reassure the distressed woman.

  Mrs Oliver shook her head. ‘Not on an icy track.’

  ‘There’s Cecelia now,’ Shilly said. She waved to the woman, who was walking along with Pippa and Hamish.

  Hamish shielded his eyes from the sun. ‘You’ve got the perfect position up there.’

  The three of them bounded up to join the others at the top of the grandstand.

  ‘What were you thinking, Cecelia?’ Dolly Oliver said, shaking her head. ‘This can’t be safe.’

  ‘It’s all right, Dolly.’ Cecelia patted the woman’s arm. ‘Pippa and I watched them warm up. I have to say their ponies are two of the sweetest tempered little things I’ve ever encountered. Shetlands aren’t always known for their agreeable manners but those two are darlings.’

  At that moment the PA system blared again, calling the riders back to the start.

  ‘We are just about ready to start a new race on our program. It’s one for the young riders, the Shetland Stakes, sponsored by our very own Fanger’s Palace Hotel,’ said the announcer.

  A cheer went up around the course as Otto Fanger blew kisses to the crowd from the edge of the track. Every inch of him exuded Alpine royalty. He was cradling Princess Gertie in the crook of his arm and soaking up the adoration. His wife, as pinched as ever, stood by his side and gave a halfhearted wave.