Page 47 of The Chalet Girl

Shit.

‘Great – thanks!’

‘Keep your helmet with you but there’s a locker room downstairs you can leave the skis/poles/boots in at the end of the day,’ he said. ‘You can leave your shoes down there now if you want?’

‘Great, thanks,’ Emme said, handing him her trainers as she typed in her PIN to pay and rushed out.

Snooty London woman,she imagined him thinking.

Snooty London woman,he thought, as he watched the beginner skier rush out. He hadn’t even had a chance to show her how to clip them on.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Cat had only just recovered from her surprise visit from Anastasia when Lumi Kivvi returned from running her errands in town.

She walked into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed, clutching a box of Läderach chocolates, which she set on the kitchen island and encouraged Cat to try.

‘My goodness youhaveto try the pistachio truffle Catalina, here…’

There was a buoyancy and an optimism about Lumi that Cat found comforting. Lumi was a calm counter to her chaotic thoughts about Anastasia, although she worried whether Teresa or Gerard might inform their boss of the surprise visit.

Cat picked up the confection wrapped in green and white paper and opened it, grateful for the distraction. She placed it in her mouth.

‘Madre mía,’ she exclaimed, eyes rolling heavenwards. ‘Amazing.’

‘Aren’t they?’

Lumi had a glow about her, but Cat would never have guessed why. That three hours ago Walter met her at the door of his Steinherrhof penthouse clutching a huge box oftartufifor the woman he’d waited thirty years to be withagain. That they’d had an indulgent soak together in a vast bath tub to wash away the guilt.

‘Have another,’ Lumi said.

‘I mustn’t, ma’am, I have lots of tastings today.’

‘Oh yes! Can we sit down and work through the Christingle menus? Goodness, it’s only a month away…’ Cat had never seen Lumi look so excited about planning the Kivvi Christingle. She didn’t know a thrill shot through her, that this might be the year that Walter Steinherr might finally deign to come.

Cat smiled. Going through the menus was precisely what she wanted to do. Cooking was what she loved most. Since she could remember, in her grandmother’s kitchen in Bariloche, Cat madeasado,chimichurri,empanadasandalfajores… graduating to more sophisticated dishes such as blue cheese macarons, artisan bread with ash butter, carpaccio with celery puree and egg yolk on morels mash when she moved to Buenos Aires for her culinary arts degree.

‘Yes I’ve been tinkering and have some ideas I picked up when I was home.’

‘Well fire away, Catalina!’ Lumi leaned on the island, her eyes sparkling as she listened intently to Cat’s suggestions of caviar, pickled cucumber and chicory;chicharróneswith cumin, chipotle and red cabbage; mini lobster rolls with lemon aioli; salt hakebrandadesand olives; chicken Caesar sourdoughs.

‘And now you remind me, ma’am, that pistachio truffle flavour would go exceptionally well with a blood orange and cardamom miniature sponge I’ve been trialling.’

‘Well there’s plenty more where those came from,’ Lumi said, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of crimson, as she gestured to the box.

‘Oh I make my own, Mrs Kivvi,’ Cat said proudly.

‘Of course you do.’

Cat continued to make notes while Lumi got herself a glass of iced water from the huge industrial refrigerator and pulled up a stool at the island.

‘Actually, I could do the blood orange macarons Miss Stella loves so much. What do you think about that?’ Cat asked.

‘I think this is going to be our best Christingle yet!’ Lumi positively glowed.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The walk through the station and down the tunnel to the ski train was peppered with the clunk of heavy plastic boots as people made their way off the mountain. At the barriers at the end of the tunnel Emme swiped her ski pass and boarded the train that was already waiting. Emme couldn’t face walking a step more than she needed to, she already felt a blister coming on from the heavy ski boots. In her cargos and coat– she was no better dressed for skiing than she had been for the spa that morning– she lamented her crap gear as she saw chic European women in sleek fur-lined one-pieces and mirrored ski goggles walking past her through the tunnel. She really would be better prepared next time. Perhaps Cat might know of a second-hand forum for workers to buy and sell clothes. There must be loads of it going around, and she didn’t really want to spend all her salary on skiwear she was only going to use for a few months.