‘Leave?’
‘Leave the hotel.’
‘Why would we do that?’
‘Here’s what I think. This hotel lies at the foot of the avalanche slope. It lies right in the path of the snow. After this morning’s avalanche they’ve evacuated everyone. Look around you: it’s been cleared in five minutes flat. I think we’re in danger here. I think we’d better go.’
Jake blinked. ‘Christ. Okay, let’s get our coats. We’ll walk into the village.’
‘And let’s just pray it doesn’t come down on our heads right now.’
‘You pray if you like. I’d rather just fret.’
‘Oh shut up.’
So they left the hotel and walked into the village of Saint-Bernard. Normally there was a shuttle service: a minibus running regularly on the half-hour covered the distance in six or seven minutes. Walking took about thirty.
The road was silent. It was still snowing. The light had changed and the snow on the ground had an eerie blue-grey tint. Any footprints or tracks had been almost covered by fresh, soft, feathery snow.
On the previous evening they had made their way from the hotel into town on foot. It had been a memorable walk. The snowy path was lined with spruce and fir trees exhaling a sappy perfume, and the way was illuminated, at one-hundred-metre intervals, by the soft orange glow of graceful wrought-iron lamp posts. They’d been passed en route by an enormous black horse pulling a sledge carrying a couple of happy but bashful tourists. Steam rose from the great horse’s flanks and plumes of vapour billowed from its nostrils as it trotted through the thick snow. The couple in the sledge had waved shyly.
But today the route seemed dangerous. They walked briskly, not talking, both straining their ears for the sounds of the mountain. Because there were warning sounds. A distant
They said nothing to each other, but Zoe took Jake’s hand, and they quickened their pace. The crunch and squeak of their snow boots was no comfort. Even those small sounds seemed like an affront to the mountain, the squeak of a mouse to an elephant. A challenge.
‘Can you feel the pressure?’ Zoe said. ‘In the air? It’s like I can feel the weight of the snow on the mountain.’
‘You’re imagining it. Just keep walking.’
‘I’m not imagining it. The air is thick. Like something is going to happen.’
‘Nothing is going to happen.’
‘So why have they evacuated the hotel, arsehole?’
‘Precaution. It would be bloody bad luck, wouldn’t it, to survive one avalanche and then get caught in another?’
‘Yeah. Bloody bad luck happens.’
‘Not today it won’t.’
‘You’re going to protect me, Jake?’
‘With my bare hands.’
Then from above them came the unmistakable groan, the sound of snow sliding, like a folding of great sheets of metal.
Zoe stopped in her tracks. ‘Oh God!’
‘It’s okay. Come on, keep moving. It’s just the snow shifting.’
‘Oh really? That’s what I’m afraid of—the snow damn well shifting! Snow shifting is called an avalanche, isn’t it?’
‘Shh! Talk quietly. What I mean is that the snow does it all the time. That’s why they have snowploughs on the pistes. Because the snow shifts and banks. It doesn’t mean it’s coming down right now.’
‘Yeah? You know about these things? You’re a veterinary surgeon. How come you’re an expert in shifting snow? You’re just bullshitting.’
‘That’s right, I’m bullshitting.’
‘Why? Why are you bullshitting?’
He stopped and turned to her. ‘It’s what I do when I get frightened, okay? I bullshit. It’s an effective way of making things seem better. There, are you happy now you’ve seen through me? Can we carry on walking now that my failure as a human being has been exposed? Well?’
The snow on the mountain slope groaned again overhead. There was a further inexplicable sound like great fishing nets cast into the sea. She slipped her arm inside his and they hiked on into the village under the soft orange glow of the lamps.
There was no one on the streets. A number of cars were parked near the centre of the village, but they were all topped with a flat cake-like layer of snow from the day’s precipitation. The village was spooky-quiet. They came upon another small hotel, called the Petit la Creu. Snow had drifted against the foot of the entrance door.
They pushed their way in, the heavy draught excluders on the bottom of the door dragging against the floor. The reception was warm, almost stifling. Lights were blazing everywhere but the reception was deserted. Exactly like their own hotel.
‘Do you think the whole village has been evacuated?’ asked Zoe.
‘Have you got that girl’s number?’
‘What girl?’
‘That dozy girl.’ ‘What dozy girl?’
‘The rep. The company rep. The one who was on the bus from the airport. The one who couldn’t stop smiling. Didn’t she flip you a card with her number?’
Zoe unzipped her handbag and took out her purse. She sorted through her plastic credit cards and club cards to find the rep’s business card. ‘I don’t have it. You must have it.’
‘I don’t have it. She gave it you.’
‘She didn’t give it me. I haven’t got it. I remember at the time she had a twinkle in her eye when she handed it to you. So you must have it.’
‘What twinkle?’
‘
‘All right! Keep your hair on!’ Jake unbuttoned his jacket, unzipped his inner breast pocket and took out his wallet. There among his credit cards he found the holiday company business card with the rep’s mobile phone number.
‘I told you you had it. You fancy her.’
‘Yep, I like a woman who smiles. They’re rare in these parts.’
‘Give it me.’
ELFINDA CARTER, SENIOR TOUR REPRESENTATIVE
WINTERTOURS HOLIDAYS
TEL: 07797 551737
‘Anyway, what kind of a name is Elfinda?’ she said.
‘Maybe she’s an elf.’
‘Elfinda the twinkling elf, apparently.’
‘You embarrassed us.’
When Elfinda the rep had offered her card she had asked for Jake’s number in return. It was routine, should the company need to contact them about trips and events. Zoe, tired of all the twinkling in the air,had leaned across and shoved, instead, her own card into the startled rep’s hands.
‘Embarrassed us? I should have kicked her skinny arse.’
Zoe reached across the reception desk and picked up the telephone. There was a strong dialling tone. She
