Page 10

‘Why didn’t you tell me you’re going to Innsbruck? We’ve been talking about doing that climb for years. Surely you’re not going to attempt it without me?’

Noemi stared at the maps spread over the table as Pascal – who clearly hadn’t heard her come into the farmhouse – stopped trying to tidy them away and sighed.

‘Well yes, that was the plan. I’m sorry, but it’s meant to be a solo challenge.’ He took one look at Noemi’s frown and gave up. ‘Which I’m assuming it’s not going to be now you’ve seen these.’

Noemi started to explain to him how right he was, but she was too excited to stay angry, and she didn’t want to waste time having a row when they could be sorting out their kit and making a route plan she was certain she could improve on.

The crossing from Bavaria into Austria over the Karwendel Pass was an expedition Hauke always talked about as being his favourite climb, but he’d never attempted it during the winter.

Repeating his journey along trails covered in snow and ice would be the biggest challenge either of them had ever attempted, and Noemi wasn’t about to miss out on it because of some silly show of male pride.

‘You need me there – you know you do. That pass is a two-person job, whatever your youth leader says. Besides, my new ropes are far stronger than yours, and they only go if I can.’

Pascal gave in in the end. He said it was the promise of the silk climbing ropes Noemi had received for her sixteenth birthday which swayed him, but they both knew he wanted her skills and her company, whatever he’d said about rules.

Now all they had to do was swear Carina – who’d walked in halfway through the conversation – to secrecy.

‘It will take at least a week to get there and back, Noemi, and I doubt your parents would agree to it. Herr Lindiger certainly wouldn’t, and I’m not sure I should either, not with these new rules. I worry about the trouble you two could get into.’

Carina’s concerns were real, but they were no defence against Noemi’s smile or her own sentimental heart.

‘You’re right, they wouldn’t. And I wouldn’t ask you to lie for me – I’d never do that. But you don’t really want him doing this on his own, do you, whatever the rules say?’

Noemi’s smile widened as Carina reluctantly shook her head. ‘I’ll leave a note explaining where I’ve gone. All you have to do is pretend you knew nothing about it if my parents come here and ask.’

Noemi didn’t need to add, Which they won’t .

She wasn’t about to argue with Carina’s, ‘You’ve always been able to get round me, young lady, and you know it.

’ And Carina – who, like her son, didn’t want to face the truth and accept that the antisemitic laws had anything to do with the girl she’d always hoped would one day marry her son – was too much of a romantic to say no.

The sun was barely touching the sky when Noemi slipped out of the house and into the frost-tipped garden, dressed in her walking boots and the thin layers that would hold in the warmth without adding unwieldy bulk.

The crisp morning air had never tasted so sweet.

Frieda had a wedding order to prepare, including one of her famous pink-iced cakes, and had left for the bakery before dawn to get it ready, calling to Noemi to come later.

Hauke was travelling to Garmisch to meet a prospective supplier and had left early too.

She’d left a note under her comforter which she hoped would stop them worrying, she had a rucksack full of food.

All she had to do was collect her climbing equipment and her skis from the garden shed and the adventure could begin.

The first stage of their journey was through familiar territory: the broad plains of the Isar Valley.

Winter had already established its hold there.

The snow was smooth and flat, untouched except for faint animal tracks.

The river had vanished under a thick layer of white.

The trees had turned black under their crystalline coating.

To anyone who didn’t know the landscape, it could appear as if it held no colour in it apart from the sky’s violet-edged blue.

But Noemi and Pascal were Bavarian born and bred, and they viewed its winters through country-trained eyes.

The ice crystals and snowflakes twinkled like a treasure chest for them – flashing gold under the sun’s morning rays, turning to rose quartz as the day lengthened towards sunset, swapping silver for bright opal blue as the temperatures cooled.

Whatever colour the land took, their skis flew across it, and they completed the relatively flat run to Wallgau in record time.

The town, with its mural-covered houses, was a delight; they could have happily stayed there, except their adrenaline was soaring too high for them to slow down.

They decided to push on instead to Scharnitz and an overnight stay which would let them make the far more complex climb across the north-west ridge of the Breitgrieskarspitze with fresh legs the following day.

That seemed like a good idea to them both, but it was almost a step too far.

The terrain around Wallgau wasn’t flat – it rose and fell as if it had been caught up in soft gathers.

Skiing across it was like riding over tumbling waves.

They arrived in the little town exhausted and exhilarated, their cheeks red with cold, their bodies aching.

As tired as she was, Noemi was instantly entranced by the white church and the wood-framed houses clustered at the foot of the towering Karwendel Mountains. But it was a few moments before she realised why she felt so at ease.

There aren’t any red banners dangling from the buildings here. There aren’t any swastikas; no one is dressed up as a soldier.

‘Welcome to Austria. We crossed the border about forty minutes ago.’

Noemi grinned at Pascal as the pieces fell into place, although she didn’t want to spoil the mood by explaining why she was so pleased to be out of Germany.

She’d been telling herself, They won’t know you’re Jewish , so don’t worry , as they’d got nearer to the town, forgetting Scharnitz was in Austria where nobody would care.

‘We should look for somewhere to stay.’

She began scanning the street for a welcome sign, but Pascal was already ahead of her, waving her towards a small hotel.

To her relief – because she was desperately in need of a hot bath and a bed – the inn he’d spotted with its cheerful gingham curtains proved to be a good choice.

Even though it was no longer climbing season and the walkers who flocked to the town in the summer months were long gone, the owner welcomed them in with a broad smile.

Two rooms were aired and heaped with extra pillows and comforters, there was no lack of hot water.

The restaurant was closed for the winter, but the owner’s wife was more than happy to provide her unexpected guests with schnitzels the size of a serving platter and a thick pile of Kaiserschmarrn – a local speciality of torn-up fluffy pancakes smothered in plum compote and powdered sugar which Noemi devoured until she was too full to move.

She would have crawled straight into bed after that – her eyelids were blinking as she scooped up the last pancake – but the star-filled night sky had attracted Pascal’s attention, and he persuaded her to go outside onto the veranda and admire it too.

‘It’s so perfect, I’d have said it was like looking at a photograph, except it’s more like standing inside a negative.’

The view was a black-and-white vision. The sky and the mountain had looked flattened out by the lack of colour at first sight, but it only took a moment for Noemi to spot its textures.

The moon hung full and pitted, balancing on the top of the ridge’s jagged outline.

The stars danced across the inky black carpet like shimmering shards of glass.

The snow was as fluffy as the pancakes she’d filled herself with.

‘It’s so…’ Noemi stopped and laughed. ‘I wanted to say beautiful, but that’s not a big-enough word.’ She turned, hoping Pascal could fill in the blank. But he was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before. ‘What?’

He shook his head. Moved a step closer. Noemi was suddenly aware of the ice in the air, of the breeze whispering against her cheek, of the faint brush of a snowflake falling onto her hand.

She didn’t know her skin could feel so alive.

Now she was the one shaking her head. Hearing the new words forming like ice crystals between them; reading their meaning in his darkened eyes.

Wanting them, and the kiss she knew was coming, and dreading them at the same time.

We can’t; we mustn’t. We’ll start an avalanche we won’t be able to stop.

‘Noemi, I…’

If only he hadn’t spoken. If only he’d carried on reaching out for her in silence, the spell would have stayed.

But her name woke her up and snapped her back to reality.

She stepped away; broke their gaze. And slipped back into the hotel before the night could cast its dangerous magic across them again.