The Little Swiss Ski Chalet

by Julie Caplin

  ‘This is wonderful, thanks for coming with me. I hope I’m not spoiling your skiing time.’

  ‘You’re kidding. I’m just happy being out here.’

  Mina smiled. His attitude contrasted with Bernhardt and Kristian’s on the ski slope, they weren’t going to let anyone hold them up or divert them from serious skiing.

  ‘If you’re sure.’

  ‘Hell, yes. Mina. Just think of all the people stuck inside in their offices at this moment, staring at a computer screen or stirring pots over a stove or whatever it is you do at work.’

  Mina thought about what a normal Tuesday morning would look like. An internal staff meeting. A packaging brief. Phone calls with marketing to tell them the design agency had missed an ingredient off the list. She’d far rather be here.

  ‘We win. This is just stunning.’

  ‘Fancy some lunch?’

  ‘What, here?’

  ‘No, I know a much nicer place further down the valley. Not so crowded.’

  ‘Do I need to ski there?’ asked Mina.

  Luke shook his head. ‘Straight down on the cable car all the way to the bottom.’

  ‘Sold.’ She had a feeling diehard skiers like Bernhardt and Kristian weren’t going to miss her if she didn’t make lunch. It was a fuel stop for them, whereas she fancied a leisurely lunch and then perhaps one more easy run before heading home. After all, she had two weeks to explore the slopes and give her muscles time to build up. She quite fancied the idea of still being able to walk tomorrow. It still amazed her that she was really here, out on the glorious slopes with what felt like the world at her feet, surrounded by timeless mountains. It put so much in perspective and reinforced how small and limited she’d let her life become. This was her chance to do some hard thinking and consider how she was going to broaden her horizons and make some changes in her life. She’d done the right thing telling Luke that there couldn’t be anything between them, even if annoyingly, it didn’t feel quite as right as it should have done.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘It’s so good to have you here,’ said Amelie the following morning, reaching across the table and laying a hand on Mina’s wrist as they sat with coffee in the big kitchen tucked away behind the dining room.

  It felt like the calm after the storm. Bernhardt, Kristian, and the rest of the guests had all been up early again, anxious to make the most of their last full day. Breakfast had been served and tidied away in an extremely slick operation. Everyone seemed anxious to eat and go, not that Mina blamed them. Despite the invitations to join the two men again, Mina had decided that she really ought to spend some time with her godmother, even though it was yet another glorious morning. Luke had casually invited her to go cross-country skiing later that day – and yes, she’d analysed his expression, the words, and the way he’d phrased it before coming to the conclusion that it was a purely friendly gesture and that he bore no grudge for her words the day before. She’d said she’d get back to him although she thought perhaps she should say no and avoid him.

  Ignoring her aching legs, as soon as she’d woken she’d gone straight out onto the balcony where she’d had to shade her eyes against the dazzling white snow contrasting so beautifully against a pure azure sky. Even though there was a chill in the air, she’d stood in her pyjamas drinking in the view, drawing in great lungfuls of the crisp, clean air. As she looked out over the valley towards the giants towering from the horizons, it seemed that the air here had a different quality, clearer as well as cleaner. It made her feel alive and alert, and at the same time aware of how stifled she’d become at home and in her job, and how regimented life with Simon had started to feel. She and Hannah had always joked about Miriam and Derek’s habitual routines but with hindsight she realised that she’d been in danger of falling into her own restrictive patterns. Not going out on Friday nights because Simon had football on Saturday morning, not doing much on Sunday evenings because they had work the next morning. In fact, she was surprised he’d found time in his fixed schedule to have an affair with Belinda.

  Now, as she recalled that delicious hit of pure, clean air, which had brought home how far she’d come in just a few short days and how open to change she felt, she said earnestly, ‘It’s good to be here, it’s so beautiful.’

  ‘Yes. I’d been looking forward to coming back for a long time. My grandparents lived here when I was a little girl. This was their house. Oh, the fuss some of the villagers made when I came back and said I wanted to turn it into a guest house. You’d have thought I was opening a brothel.’

  Mina laughed. ‘I spoke to Johannes. He said he’d come round.’

  ‘The power of cake,’ said Amelie with a sultry grin.

  ‘Oh, the cake yesterday! Delicious. What were the bits in it, apart from the cherries and the crispy base?’ It was a good stodgy cake with a crumbly texture and nothing like she’d tasted before.

  ‘You line the bottom of the cake tin with crushed cookies which give it that crisp base and soak pieces of old bread in vanilla milk, before you add them and ground almonds to the batter. It creates this wonderful rustic cake with lots of different flavours. It’s one of my favourites, from an old recipe from Basel where they grow the best cherries. The literal translation is cherry bread cake.’

  ‘I must get the recipe.’

  ‘You’re more than welcome. It’s so good to see you, Mina. It’s been such a long time.’ Amelie hugged Mina again and then stepped back, to study Mina’s face, cupping it with one warm hand. ‘You look so like your mother.’ She shook her head, her expression turning sombre. ‘And I can’t believe she’s been gone for so long. Such a tragedy.’

  Mina nodded, although to be honest, she had no recollection of her mother and never felt that she’d missed out. Miriam and Derek were wonderful, loving parents and sometimes in her more thoughtful moments, she suspected that they had probably done a better job than her real parents would have. From the photos she’d seen and, picking up on more of what Miriam didn’t say when either she or Hannah asked about their real mum and dad, Mina suspected that Georgie and Stewart’s adventures had come before their children. They had been reckless and impulsive, there was no denying that – what parents would go rally driving in unfamiliar, dangerous terrain when they had two small children at home? In her darkest moments, Mina worried that she might have inherited too many of her mother’s genes, as Simon had accused.

  ‘And how is Hannah?’

  ‘She’s good. Thinking about doing a cookery course at some place in Ireland.’

  ‘Not the Ballygeary Cookery School?’ Amelie’s eyes widened with envy.

  ‘Yes, that’s the one.’

  Amelie groaned. ‘I’d love to go there. It sounds wonderful. I looked at doing one of their bread-making courses many years ago but with the flights, it was quite a price. I’m not surprised you two girls are interested in food, your Aunt Miriam, lovely as she is, is a dreadful cook.’

  ‘Which is why I started baking.’

  ‘Cake is the way to everyone’s hearts.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Mina, thinking of the convivial, warm atmosphere in the chalet the previous evening, everyone slightly weary but happy from their day’s outdoor activity.

  ‘And caring.’ Amelie smiled gently at Mina. ‘I really want all my guests to feel at home here. I hate those stuffy hotels where you go and everyone looks down their nose at you and you don’t feel as if you should be there. People work so hard these days and a lot of them are so far from family, especially the expatriots, it’s important to make them feel they can relax here. When my grandparents were alive, this was my refuge.’ She gazed out of the window with a wistful smile and Mina wondered if there was a story there. ‘They fixed me, every time I came. I want to extend that welcome to everyone who comes here.’

  ‘What do you mean they fixed you?’ Mina blurted out, curiosity getting the better of her.

  Amelie laughed. ‘You’re so like your mother.’

  ‘I’m not sur
e if that’s a good thing or not. Sorry, you probably don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘The reason we were such good friends was that we both lived hard and fast. Partying hard, working hard, earning lots of money and being frivolous with it. Money trickled through our hands, fancy restaurants, exotic holidays, always looking for the next thrill. We might have prided ourselves – we were smug about it – that we didn’t do drugs, but we lived for the next adrenaline shot. I would fly to London. She would come to Zurich. We were both crazy, burning the candle at both ends. Every now and then I would run out of steam, and I’d come to see my grandmother, and she’d cook and look after me, without a word of reproach. Whereas if I’d gone to see my parents…’ She lifted her hands in horror. ‘Oh, the lectures I’d have got. They live in Geneva now.’ She pulled the sort of face that suggested that as far as she was concerned, Geneva was the end of the line on the great railway of life.

  ‘When your parents died, I’ll be honest, it was a wake-up call. Georgie was spontaneous, but when she met your father, he was the daredevil. He encouraged her to go that bit further. It made me uncomfortable. And then…’ Her face crumpled in sadness. ‘They weren’t there anymore. We all grew up that year, all the friends. I met my husband and got married and we were happy for twenty years, and then he died and the hole in my life came back.’ She shook herself as if pulling herself out of the morass of memories. ‘And I came here and… found something. I like looking after people, tending to them.’ The words resonated with Mina and she thought of her Mexican dinner party. Although ultimately it had been a disaster, she’d looked forward to it with so much pleasure, anticipating her guests’ tastes and cooking the most delicious dishes she could think of, to please them. She’d always loved cooking, but only now she realised that it stemmed from a desire to look after people, like Amelie, to tend to them. Simon had once accused her of using her cooking to show off, to be the centre of attention. At the time, he’d made her question her motives and it had knocked her confidence a little. Now she realised he’d been totally wrong.

  ‘Did my mother cook?’ she asked suddenly, wondering whether Georgie would have cooked to show off, or to look after people, realising there was so much she didn’t know about her parents.

  Amelie laughed sadly. ‘No. That would be too boring. And too time-consuming. Life was to be lived at breakneck speed. She was always too busy looking for the next adventure.’

  Mina blinked back tears. ‘I don’t really know that much about my mother. Part of me is mad at her that her adventures were more important than me and Hannah.’ She put her hand over her mouth, shocked that she’d admitted as much out loud. Miriam, always fiercely loyal to her sister, had never said anything like that, but Mina had wondered if she thought it too.

  Amelie frowned and looked away. She clearly didn’t want to meet Mina’s eyes.

  ‘I knew her before she was a mother. I’m not sure I’d be the right person to comment on that.’ Her eyes shifted again and Mina wondered if she really believed that. As she said herself, she liked tending to people, looking after them. Georgie and Stuart hadn’t wanted to tend and look after Mina and her sister. They’d left that to Miriam and Derek.

  Amelie brought her gaze back to Mina’s face. ‘But I do know she was enormous fun, generous to her friends, and had a huge capacity for love. I think she would have loved you very much.’

  ‘We were loved.’ Mina didn’t mean to sound defensive but her adopted parents had been everything that she and Hannah had ever needed.

  ‘I know. If I’m honest I think Georgie counted on that. It was her safety valve. She knew. I saw them two weeks before they died. They were going paragliding in Interlaken, but they stayed with me in Zurich before they went. Georgie had so many photos of you. I still have them somewhere.’

  Uncomfortable with the conversation, Mina’s gaze strayed to the series of lists and recipes pinned up on a pinboard, probably a metre square, on the opposite wall. Deep down, although she’d never voiced it, she didn’t think that her parents had found their children enough. Babies weren’t exciting enough. Looking after them hadn’t been enough. Instead of voicing those dark, disloyal words she changed the subject. ‘That all looks very organised.’

  ‘I love a list. I like to plan each week, the cakes I’ll make and what I plan to cook. I put the recipes up so that I can check whether I’ve got all the ingredients. It makes shopping so much easier, because the nearest wholesale and farmers’ market is in Brig, which is about half an hour’s drive away.’

  Mina stood up and looked at the recipes: zigercake, quark streuselkuchen, Solothurner torte, lozärner lebkuchen. ‘I’ve never heard of any of these. I’d love to know how to make them.’ She never missed an opportunity to broaden her cooking repertoire.

  ‘Of course, but you don’t want to spend your whole time in the kitchen, do you? And I’m sorry, I’m busy this afternoon. What would you like to do? There’s so much to do in the area. Did you see the leaflets in the lounge last night?’ Amelie rose as if to go and fetch some.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m sorted for today,’ lied Mina. She still hadn’t decided if she’d go out with Luke but she didn’t want Amelie feeling guilty for abandoning her. ‘Luke offered to take me out this afternoon and teach me how to cross-country ski. He said you hire out the skis, poles, and boots.’ She felt guilty she’d taken the ski kit yesterday without even thinking about the hire charges. Amelie was already putting her up in a guest room without taking any money.

  Amelie bristled for a moment. ‘You can borrow them. Hire, indeed.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s just that… well, I wasn’t expecting to be a guest, but thank you,’ said Mina, worried that she might have offended her.

  ‘You are a guest in my own home, just a little more special than my other guests. And you will enjoy the cross-country skiing.’

  ‘I’m really looking forward to trying something new.’

  ‘Luke will be a good teacher. He’s very patient. And—’ she paused with a quick mischievous lift of her eyebrows ‘—easy on the eye.’

  ‘I hadn’t noticed,’ said Mina mildly and they both burst out laughing. He was also kind and generous.

  Once they’d finished their coffees, Amelie stood up. ‘If you’re really interested in our Swiss cakes, then today, if you want to stay in the kitchen all morning, I could show you how to make Solothurner Torte. It’s a particular favourite of mine and a real treat for the guests. I always serve it on Sundays.’

  ‘Of course I’d like to stay in the kitchen. I did come to see you, you know.’ She crossed and gave Amelie a big hug. ‘So what are we’re making?’

  ‘It’s a delicious hazelnut meringue cake, which comes from the town of Solothurn in the North West of the country, not too far from Basel. It was invented by a baker in the town in 1915, and by the following morning was a sensation. People still make special trips to the bakery to buy it today.’

  ‘Must be quite something. I’ve never heard of it.’ In fact, aside from fondue and rosti, she couldn’t actually think of any traditional Swiss dishes or cakes.

  ‘Oh, it is.’ Amelie took down the recipe and talked Mina through the components of the three-layered cake before taking the biggest bag of hazelnuts Mina had ever seen out of the tall larder cupboard. As she weighed them out, she directed Mina to whip up egg whites and make the meringues.

  They worked in diligent but noisy harmony as Amelie ground the hazelnuts which pinged and bounced in the food processor liked dozens of roulette balls, while Mina beat the eggs with an electric whisk.

  ‘It’s nice to have someone who knows what they’re doing,’ said Amelie, when Mina turned the bowl upside down to check the egg whites and sugar were stiff enough.

  ‘It’s nice to be doing something completely different for a change. This recipe sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to try it.’

  Once the meringue was made Amelie kept half an eye on her as Mina folded in the ground hazelnuts and she cut out four la
rge grease paper circles. She then handed Mina a piping bag.

  ‘Can you pipe four coiled circles onto the paper? While you’re doing that I’m going to start making the hazelnut sponge, which goes in between the two meringue layers.’

  Mina picked up the bag, filling it with mixture, determined to do the very best job she possibly could. She wanted her part of the cake to be perfect. At work her colleagues had always teased her that she was fiercely competitive when it came to cooking.

  While the sponge was baking, Mina made the buttercream that would sandwich the whole sugary confection together. The amount of sugar in it had her fillings tingling.

  By this time Amelie was assembling the ingredients for dinner.

  ‘How many does the chalet sleep?’ asked Mina, curious about to the day-to-day running of the chalet, which was a much bigger operation than she’d expected. ‘I thought you were running a small bed and breakfast from what you said in your emails.’

  Amelie let out a snort of laughter. ‘That was the plan, but once I got here, it just grew. I started to build things around the needs of my guests – or rather, what I think they need.

  ‘There are ten rooms in total, so officially twenty people is my maximum, but I take extra bookings for dinner and for coffee and cake by arrangement only. People have to book in advance so that I know how many to cater for. On Saturday and Sunday nights I tend to do a good hearty meal, because most of people have been out all day and are starving.’ She laughed. ‘Even though they have had cake. Tonight I’m making another very simple dish.’

  Mina looked at the recipe on the pinboard. ‘Benediktiner Eintopf.’

  ‘In English, you might call it monastery stew in one pot. Minced beef, with onions and leeks cooked in a vegetable broth, with Boursin added at the end, although any good-quality cream cheese will do. Couldn’t be simpler or tastier, and it’s served with rustic mashed potatoes and lots of bread to soak up the juices. Always goes down well. I can’t bear those people who just put their heads down and eat, eat like pigs at a trough or those fussy, picky people who don’t really like food and just push it around their plate. They are not welcome to stay again.’