Page 93 of The Chalet Girl

Lumi approached her husband by the window.

‘Come, let’s watch a film with the children…’ she said soothingly.

‘Give me a minute will you, woman!’ he snapped.

‘Fine.’

Lumi couldn’t stand to be in the men’s company for a second longer, so she went to change, passing staff cleaning on her way through. She remembered Catalina in the kitchen, and went to check on her.

Cat was wildly wiping down the pale blue oven when Lumi poked her head around the door.

‘You’ll take the colour off it at that rate!’ Lumi said.

Cat looked up and stopped.

‘Oh, hello Mrs Kivvi, is everything OK?’

Lumi didn’t seem vexed by what had happened, but then she rarely seemed vexed by anything.

‘Can I get you a plate of snacks for the cinema room?’

‘No Catalina, we’ve all eaten plenty thank you, I just wanted to commend you for an exceptional menu today. You really did excel yourself.’

Cat smiled gratefully.

‘Got a little dramatic with the desserts there…’ Lumi said with some diplomacy.

Cat sighed heavily.

‘That was quite a memorable one Mrs Kivvi, but you know what they say?’

‘What’s that?’

‘If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space.’

She gave a solemn smile.

‘That’s the spirit, Catalina,’ Lumi smiled, and left the kitchen. Cat leaned on her forearms, on the impeccable oven top, dropped her head, and cried.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Emme knocked on what she hoped was the right apartment door, frantic and cold, still wearing Tiago’s clothes under her lilac puffer. His boots had cut through the snow, leaving a trail from Chalet Stern to the building with the love hearts cut out of the balconies.

‘Who is it?’ said a gruff voice.

‘It’s me, Emme,’ she replied, her chest pounding.

Tristan opened his apartment door, gingerly, and looked at Emme. His eye was swollen and bleeding. His bare torso cut. Soul music played through the stereo in the warmly lit apartment behind him.

‘Jesus!’

Emme clutched his face in alarm, examining the damage more closely. She hadn’t seen the extent of it at the time as, after helping Emme up and dusting her down, Tristan had shaken his head at the bemused crowd and walked out, pride and face both bruised. He hadn’t realised until he got home that he had shards of glass jabbed into his left shoulder blade too.

‘AreyouOK?’ he asked, examining Emme’s worried face.

‘Yeah yeah, none of it cut me…’

They appraised each other’s faces as Emme put her hand to Tristan’s split eye, to where Dimitri had landedthe blow and cut his eyebrow with the edge of his Rolex. ‘Oh no…’ she groaned, before dotting it with three gentle kisses, the action coming naturally to her, knowing it was this softness he needed. ‘Gosh, Tristan, have you put ice on that?’