The Little Swiss Ski Chalet
Julie Caplin

One More Chapter

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2021

Copyright © Julie Caplin 2021

Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2021

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Julie Caplin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008431235

Ebook Edition © January 2021 ISBN: 9780008431228

Version: 2020-11-09

Contents

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Part II

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Part III

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Acknowledgments

Recipe: Basler Kirschenbrottorte

Thank you for reading…

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About the Author

Also by Julie Caplin

One More Chapter...

About the Publisher

For my sister, Lynda, the chalk to my cheese, funny, kind and amazingly resilient, who deserves to be nothing but happy.

Part One

Chapter One

This was going to be a night to remember, Mina decided as she perched rather precariously on a chair and draped the little piñata fairy lights over the top of the archway from the kitchen into the dining area. They were the perfect finishing touch.

‘Looking good,’ said her sister, Hannah, appearing in the doorway clutching a bulging carrier bag.

‘You’re back.’ Mina jumped down from the chair with a thump, belatedly remembering the neighbours below, and clapped her hands together, excitement getting the better of her. ‘Did you get a bottle? I can’t believe I forgot that. I mean, seriously, a Mexican evening without tequila! Actually, maybe I should have asked you to get two.’

‘One bottle will be fine. Everyone will bring booze and you’ve got a crate of Corona. I don’t think anyone’s going to be thirsty.’

‘You’re a star. What would I do without you?’ She hugged her sister.

‘I think you’d probably manage,’ said Hannah, extricating herself. ‘There’s enough food for everyone to take home and live off for the whole weekend.’

Mina gave her a cheerful grin. ‘It’s going to be great.’ She couldn’t wait to see everyone surrounding the table, the places set with her vintage china collected over the years from charity shops, her guests replete with food and alcohol, chatting in the candlelight. She’d been cooking all day and for most of the previous evening but it was going to be worth it. An anniversary celebration. One whole year with Simon. Quite a record for her, and she had to admit she was enjoying the calm and stability he brought into her life. He was the yin to her yang, or whatever the saying was. Actually it was probably the other way round, not that she had a clue about Chinese philosophy. What she did know was that she’d invited eight friends, including Hannah, for dinner tonight. It would be a tight squeeze but everyone was used to that when they came here. In the last year she’d held a Parisienne party (extremely chic), a Danish hygge gathering (very cosy), a gin cocktail speakeasy night (brilliant 1920s costumes, including Simon’s fabulous Trilby that cost a bomb), and a Thai banquet (spicy, fresh, and utterly delicious).

Tonight’s table with its brightly-striped Mexican serape-style tablecloth was laid with jewel-coloured raffia mats, plastic sombrero napkin rings, and a row of candles in rustic metal votives running down the centre. She’d even bought some cactus-shaped plastic ice cubes for the water jug.

‘Your parties are always great, but you don’t half give yourself a lot of work. I’d have just bought a couple of Old El Paso sauces and some salsa and guacamole from M&S.’

‘That’s not proper Mexican food!’ Mina’s eyes widened in mock outrage. ‘I’m doing authentic street food. Come.’ Mina darted into the kitchen beckoning furiously. ‘You’ve got to try this.’ She was already holding the spoon out.

‘What is it?’ asked Hannah, her eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion.

‘Try it…’

Her sister took a tentative mouthful. ‘Oh wow.’ She blinked rapidly. ‘That’s got a kick. But,’ Hannah went back for a second lick, ‘yum.’

‘Chocolate sauce made with chilli from Ecuador. It’s to have with the churros for dessert. Isn’t it just divine?’ Mina dipped her finger and took a quick taste, her eyes closing in sheer bliss. It was lovely. It had taken her a while to track this particular artisan-made brand down, and it was worth every last penny of the extortionate price she’d paid. Although she’d been equally tempted by the caramel salted dark chocolate from Madagascar and the rum flavour from Trinidad and Tobago. There were just so many gorgeous chocolates to choose from these days.

‘Different. I wish I could cook like you.’

Mina laughed.

‘Then you wouldn’t have your big fancy job and a gorgeous apartment to live in,’ said Mina, looking around at her small cramped kitchen – not that she envied her sister at all, but one day she would like a decent-sized kitchen with an open-plan diner where she could entertain without having to leave her guests every five minutes. She’d even planned the layout in her head.

When she and Simon moved in together they could combine forces and buy a better place, perhaps even a house. Despite their different personalities, both of them loved food and entertaining – it was one of the reasons they worked so well as a couple. ‘What do you want me to do?’ asked Hannah, looking around.

‘If you could grate cheese for me, for the nachos, and make sure it’s the cheddar and not my special Alpine cheese.’

‘What’s that for? Or shouldn’t I ask? Is it a Mexican speciality that no one knows about?’

Mina laughed. ‘No, we’ve been talking about developing a fondue recipe at work, so I thought I’d get some sneaky practice in at home. It really needs the right cheese. Amelie has been emailing me traditional Swiss recipes.’

‘Ah, that’s nice. How is she?’

Amelie was Mina’s godmother, who had been at school with their mother, in a boarding school in France. Poor Hannah had missed out as their parents had not got around to christening her, although Amelie had, in her typically generous fashion, adopted her as an honorary goddaughter and always sent her birthday and Christmas presents.

‘Good. You know she moved out of Basel and bought that little ski lodge place, which does sound gorgeous. She keeps inviting me to go and visit, and I feel a bit bad that I haven’t – but it’s not like hopping on a plane to the city. Where she is now is in the middle of nowhere. It’s a three-hour train journey from Zurich or Geneva.’

‘Not exactly a quick weekend break, then. Now what do you want me to do?’

‘When you’ve grated the cheese, you could help me do the margarita glasses.’

‘What are you doing with them?’

‘I’m going to dip the rims in lime juice and then in salt, to get a proper crust around the edges.’ She waved her hand towards the shaped cocktail glasses that she’d been thrilled to find in TK Maxx. ‘And look: I’m going to sprinkle a little edible golden glitter in the salt to give them a bit of pizazz.’ She was rather pleased with this idea, and even more pleased by Hannah’s enthusiastic reaction.

‘What a brilliant idea. And that’s why you’re the food technologist.’

‘Huh, I don’t think creating a new twist on pasta sauce is that exciting.’ Mina tried not to sound too ungrateful. Working in the test kitchens of a major supermarket brand was a good job, a great job… it just didn’t inspire her as much as it used to these days. Catering to the common denominator, like putting a more flavoursome béchamel sauce on top of a lasagne, could be a bit dull when she was wild to try new flavours.

‘Now, if you’re going to be my kitchen assistant, I need you to get cracking.’

Mina hummed away as she sliced and diced onions, seasoned chicken, and chopped a small mountain of chilies, like a mini whirling dervish. This was going to be a special evening and the food just one small part of it. She wanted to show Simon just how much he meant to her. He’d become an integral part of her community of friends over the last year, and she wanted to share her happiness with them as well. Good friends were everything. She glanced over at the small tissue-paper-decorated pinãta striped in pink and blue. Earlier, she’d stuffed the small pouch inside it and now she felt a little thrill of anticipation at what Simon would say when it was released.

By the time six o’clock arrived, and they’d both treated themselves to a taster of the freshly mixed margarita, virtually everything was done.

‘Just time to get our glad rags on.’ Mina surveyed the kitchen and the neat rows of everything lined up ready. She called it Blue-Peter-style cooking, with the emphasis on ‘here’s some I prepared earlier’, so that when her guests arrived she spent as little time as possible in the kitchen – which was a challenge when you were serving really fresh, zesty street food. Somehow she couldn’t help herself, and she did a little more prep as she waited for Hannah to finish in the bathroom before she finally dashed in at twenty-to-seven. Taking the quickest of quick showers, she dragged a comb through her blonde bob, swiped a quick slick of pink lipstick over her lips, and brushed on a lightning layer of black mascara to darken her ridiculously long, pale lashes, which could have rivalled a llama. Done. She blew a kiss at her reflection in the mirror, fluttered her llama lashes, and darted back into her bedroom to pull on her new, bright fuschia-pink dress and nipped into the kitchen to put on an apron. She’d been caught out by food splatters before and this dress deserved to shine.

When the doorbell rang at seven, she was in full hostess mode. As the room filled, she was in her element, dishing out bottles of Corona stuffed with the obligatory slice of lime, or glasses of the sort of margaritas that provided a mule-like kick.

‘Blimey, Mina,’ said George, one of her old university friends. ‘That’s going to put hairs on my chest. And I’m not sure about the glitter, I’ll be twinkling at work on Monday. But killer of an idea.’

‘Don’t be a boring old stick,’ said his partner, who was also inconveniently called George, and in the six months they’d been together had become G. ‘I love the glitter and that is a seriously good cocktail.’ He blinked his eyes rapidly as the alcohol hit his throat. ‘Fire water.’

‘Oh, is it too strong?’ Mina paused in the act of handing over a glass to her best friend Belinda, who’d just arrived, flashing a smile at Simon just behind her.

‘It’ll be fine,’ said Belinda, a kissing her on both cheeks and taking the glass for a sensible sip. ‘Yum. And the glitter is…’ She studied her glass. ‘Is it OK to eat, or rather, drink?’

‘Yes. It’s edible. As if I’d use something that wasn’t.’ Mina stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Belinda had been her friend since school days and her sensible nature had often put a break on Mina’s more reckless ideas in the past, but she was a grown-up now for goodness’ sake. Didn’t tonight prove this?

‘Of course not,’ said Belinda dryly, but Mina was already swinging towards Simon.

‘Hi, darling.’ She wished her hands weren’t full and she could give him a proper hug. ‘You’ve made good time.’

‘Yes, I finished work… a bit earlier. I gave Belinda a lift.’

‘That was kind.’ Her eyes sparkled at him. Belinda lived the other side of town and didn’t drive. He was such a kind man. Safe and steady too. Just what she needed. ‘Want a margarita? Or would you prefer a beer?’

‘Just water. I’m driving later.’

‘Oh, babe, aren’t you going to stay?’ She kissed him again on the cheek, with a mischievous grin, hoping to remind him of what he might miss. ‘These margaritas are to die for.’

‘I bet they are, but not with football practice in the morning. You don’t want me disturbing you after a heavy night.’ He surveyed the table. ‘Looks like you’ve gone the usual mile. This looks amazing. You’re so talented in the kitchen.’

She raised her eyebrows in mock reproof as if to remind him that wasn’t the only place.

‘Well, it is a special night,’ she murmured.

His brows drew together and she shook her head. ‘Simon. What are you like? You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?’ she accused him jokingly. ‘Honestly. Hopeless. Men.’ She included Belinda in her teasing exasperation. ‘It’s our anniversary.’

Simon looked mildly horrified, but then he would. He didn’t like getting things wrong. That driving perfectionism was one of the things she’d fallen for. She might live her life at ninety miles an hour all the time, trying to cram as much in as she could, but she still liked everything to be just so. Hence the themed evening, which had come together perfectly. Hannah was handing around plates of nachos, made with good stringy cheese and home-made spicy salsa, and from the satisfied munching they were going down well.

Leaving the room buzzing with conversation she went back into the kitchen and began to ferry out the food. Once the plates were all arranged on the table, in a haphazard jigsaw to make everything fit, she invited everyone to come and shoehorn themselves into the seats around the fully extended table, which spanned the whole width of the room.

‘This looks amazing, Mina,’ cried Patsy, a friend she’d made on a fish-filleting course a couple of months back, who worked in a local delicatessen. ‘I have to get the recipes from you.’

‘Don’t you guys ever get fed up with being around food all the time?’ asked Patsy’s boyfriend, James, who was a firefighter. ‘Not that I’m complaining.’ He slung an arm around Patsy, who nudged him in the ribs with a laugh.

As she unloaded the plates, making sure everyone had something within reach, Mina basked in the exclamations of delight and interest while she explained what everything was, and invited them to tuck in. The fairy lights, the glow of the candles, and the main lights dimmed along with the low-level chatter created a wonderful, and to Mina, a deeply satisfying atmosphere in the room.

The drink flowed, the conversation rose and fell, punctuated by shouts of laughter, and Mina relaxed into her chair next to Simon, soothed by the happy, smiling faces around her. This was what life was about. Friends, lovers, and good company.

Once everyone had demolished the churros and the tablecloth was spattered with tiny drops of chocolate, she brought out the piñata and the wooden stick that had been provided with it. Everyone roared with laughter at its dainty size.

‘I know, I know, but its only for one person. One very special person.’ She looked at Simon and handed him the stick. ‘Today is our first anniversary.’

‘And they said it wouldn’t last,’ quipped George from the other side of the table. She laughed back at him.

‘Good job I didn’t listen to you,’ she said. When she’d first started seeing Simon, in secret because they were work colleagues, George had been the only person she’d confided in. He’d tried to talk her out of it, saying that it wasn’t a good idea to mix business with pleasure, especially with her track record. Her relationships tended to implode at around the three-month mark, which was how she knew that Simon was the right man for her. He was calm, steady, and just what she needed, unlike her previous boyfriends, who tended to be here today, gone tomorrow. Admittedly, while they’d been a lot of fun, commitment, financial stability, or the ability to be faithful had been in short supply. Simon offered all of those things, although he could be a little stodgy and stuck in his ways sometimes. Her spontaneity and get-up-and-go was a good balance for him. They complemented each other perfectly.

With the help of G and James, she tied the piñata to the curtain pole.

‘Just don’t break the window,’ she said, her heart starting to thump with excitement.

To a chorus of ‘give it some welly,’ and ‘go on,’ Simon took a few tentative swipes at the tissue and papier-mâché donkey. A couple of people held up their phones to film the scene as Simon rather ineptly swiped at the piñata. At one point Mina despaired of him ever breaking open the darned thing and itched to take over his half-hearted attempt. Then with one final crack, it was torn clean in two and a giftwrapped box dropped to the floor.

With a triumphant yell, Simon snatched it up, and Mina, her pulse now roaring like an express train around her body, steered him back to the table and sat on his lap.

‘I didn’t know I was getting presents,’ he said, fighting his way through the paper. Of course, Mina hadn’t made it too easy for him, because inside the box was another box, and then another box. At last he came to the final one and she held her breath as he opened it to find a blue suedette pouch.

He wrinkled his eyebrows and gave her a puzzled look, a broad smile on his face. She smiled tremulously back at him, realising her hands were shaking a little. Everyone around the table craned forward with interest.

Simon opened the pouch and pulled out the gold wedding band, holding it up between thumb and finger. With a dazzling smile, she looked up into his face.

‘Will you marry me? It is a leap year after all.’

Around the table there were a few gasps and a couple of ‘ahs’.

She felt Simon’s body stiffen and as she watched his face, she saw his eyes slide across the table, widening as they connected with someone else’s shocked gaze. Her own gaze followed, and in a single second her world crumbled. Belinda?

In the next second, Simon stood up with horrified speed, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her, and she slipped off his lap onto the floor.

He dropped the ring on the table as if it were hot lava and stared horrorstruck at her.

‘Are you crazy?’ he asked in a hoarse whisper. ‘What are you doing?’

Mortified, Mina’s throat closed up and her skin crawled as she realised everyone was watching, with avid fascination, as the car crash unfolded. What had she been thinking? It had seemed such a brilliant idea at the time. Only last month they’d been talking about moving in together and about the future. They’d even talked about how many children they’d have one day. How had she got this so wrong? She’d been so sure of him. They’d made plans. Admittedly, Simon had been distracted for the last month, but she’d assumed it was the long hours he was working and the pressure he was under in his department, which had seen several redundancies. Now it was painfully obvious that something else – or rather, someone else – had been on his mind.

‘But…’ She looked from Simon to Belinda, whose face was now stained with a fierce red blush and contorted by an odd, constipated sort of expression. Simon’s face mirrored Belinda’s. They looked remarkably similar: two compatriots, two people in sync – a couple.

As the trainwreck finally slowed to a comprehensive halt, she remembered all her earlier hopes. This was one night she wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.

Chapter Two

Mina hurried out of the front door and down the steps clutching her laptop bag, huddling into her scarf, trying to hide from the biting January wind. Despite the icy conditions predicted by the weather forecast, she wore high, kick-ass, black patent leather boots under slim-fitting black trousers with a matching jacket over a scarlet silk blouse. If there was ever a down-but-not-defeated outfit then this was it. This morning she had to face all her work colleagues after Saturday night’s disastrous proposal, including Simon himself.

While the rest of the guests had hastily beaten a path to her door, she and Simon had retreated to her bedroom for a hideous, no-coming-back-from, stand-up row.

‘What did you think you were doing?’ hissed Simon, shaking his head in rare fury.

‘I thought I was proposing to someone who said, less than a month ago, that he loved me. Someone who had agreed to find an estate agent to have our flats valued, and had selected the name Victor for our first male child – which, I’d just like to say now, I thought was an awful name, and I fully intended talking you out of it – and I seem to recall you even suggested getting married in St Mary’s near your mum’s. So forgive for me being a little confused. I thought I was doing what we’d already agreed we would do?’

‘Typical. So it’s my fault, is it? I might have known. Not that you had to jump the gun or anything, like you always do. You’re in such a hurry all the time.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t have done if I’d realised you were shagging – I’m assuming you are, by the colour of her face – one of my oldest friends.’ Belinda had been excommunicated – she no longer deserved the title ‘best’ friend.

At that point Simon’s mouth firmed to a mutinous line rather reminiscent of a toothless turtle.

‘How long has that been going on?’ Mina thrust her chin up into his face.

‘She’s much calmer. You want to do everything at breakneck speed. You’re too much. Even your ridiculous wedding proposal is so true to character. Belinda’s much… more balanced. I feel on an even keel with her.’

‘So, you spineless git, you’re saying this is my fault, because of my personality?’ Her eyes bored into him with fury.

‘We’re not right for each other.’ Simon’s words were stiff as he refused to look at her.

‘Funny it took you until tonight to say anything. You never questioned things before. You sucked it all up… must have been terrible for you. Having to go on with all those awful things I organised for us – a weekend in Cornwall, dinner at Le Manoir, ski lessons at the indoor ski slope. My memory is terrible but I could have sworn that after I booked the indoor sky diving, you said that being with me was always so much fun.’

‘Fun, yes.’ Simon finally looked at her before saying coldly, ‘But not for keeps.’

‘What?’ Her heart pinched in sudden pain. Not for keeps.

‘You can’t base a marriage, or even a serious relationship, on fun.’ He peered at her like a headmaster delivering a lecture, which he then proceeded to do.

Now, even with the cold wind biting at her face, Mina paused for a moment, the words from Saturday night still ringing with hurtful shrillness in her ears:

‘You can’t spend your life being spontaneous and going off on adventures all the time. Marriage is about being grown-up, settling down, knowing you’re on an even keel. With you it’s like being on a constant rollercoaster, or in a plane and I’m never sure when you’re going to throw me out of the door. You’re too crazy, too mile-a minute, too wanting the next thing all the time. I never know where I am, and I don’t want to live like that. It’s probably from your genes, and I’m not sure I want those in my children.’

‘Genes?’ she spat.

‘Your real mum and dad. It sounds as if they were always chasing adventure. It sounds as if they were reckless and irresponsible. They didn’t take the important things in life seriously. That’s not what I want in my life.’

Her eyes almost popped out of her head with sheer rage at him bringing up her long dead parents and it robbed her of the ability to say anything. Simon was oblivious and on he ploughed, ‘It’s a shame you don’t take after your adopted parents, Miriam and Derek. I can’t believe that Miriam was your mother’s sister, she’s so normal.’

Mina had never, ever been as close to strangling anyone as she was at that moment. Her fingers actually cramped into claws, ready to do the deed. Luckily Simon stepped out of range with one more parting salvo.

‘We’ve had fun, but… you can’t have fun all the time. At some point you need to focus on what’s important. And I can’t see you ever doing that. You’re like a butterfly, constantly flitting about, looking for the next great thing. It’s too exhausting being with you.’

With that parting shot, he’d walked out of the flat, leaving her with the debris of the dinner party, which she attacked with furious energy, imaging hitting him over the head with the frying pan as she scrubbed at it. She refused to cry, although she might have suffered a slight leakage at points as she wiped down the surfaces. At last when the kitchen and dining table were almost clean and tidy, she picked up the pan of chocolate sauce and sat down, cross-legged, in the middle of the kitchen floor with it between her knees. Dipping a finger into the chocolate, she carefully licked it clean and closed her eyes. Life might be crap, but there was always chocolate. In the world of food, as far as she was concerned, it had serious super powers. She took another mouthful. Sod Simon, he didn’t deserve her.

Of course, after the event, when the chocolate had soothed her and she’d eaten the lot, she could think of a dozen witty brilliant comebacks. Chief among them: what had changed? At the time Mina had felt as if she’d been punched. The words had spun around and around her head for the remainder of the weekend like a manic merry-go-round. He hadn’t even said he was sorry once. The way he’d talked, it was as if she’d deserved his cheating on her. Talking of whom, the big, fat coward (of course, she wasn’t fat at all; if anything she was thin, with perfect double Ds and one of those 1950s waists, but she was very cowardly) Belinda, had slipped out with all the other guests and hadn’t so much as texted an apology or an explanation during the rest of the weekend.

Hannah had talked Mina out of marching round to Belinda’s parents’ house to challenge her, quite rightly pointing out that Mina would probably slap her. The last thing she needed was an assault charge on top of looking a complete and utter dick in front of her friends. Although George and G were about to be wiped from that list, because one of them had shared the video of Simon with the piñata and the disastrous proposal on Facebook. Even if, apparently, it had been inadvertent because one of them had forgotten to change their privacy settings.

As she left the communal front garden, a man stopped her. ‘Excuse me, are you Mina Campbell?’

‘Yes?’ she answered, with a question in her voice.

‘I wonder if you would mind answering a few questions.’

‘Sure.’ Funny time for market research, she decided – but as a lot of her work was directed by such research, she always felt she ought to stop and do her bit.

‘How did you feel when your boyfriend turned you down?’

‘What?’ Her head snapped up.

‘You are the girl whose proposal went wrong? The piñata girl.’

She stepped away from him as he gave her an encouraging smile.

‘Who are you? How do you know about that?’

‘Jamie Jenkins, I work for the Mirror. It’s all over Facebook. This is your chance to put your side of the story out there.’

‘I don’t want my story out there, full stop.’

‘Bit late for that, love. The genie’s out of the bottle. Come on, give us a couple of quotes. How did you feel when he turned you down? How long have you been together? Are you still together?’

‘No, we are not,’ she spat before she could stop herself. ‘And I wasn’t being presumptuous or precipitous, we’ve been talking marriage for months. Turns out, he has a new lady friend he forgot to mention… or that she was my best friend. Note the past tense. Was.’ Even as she was talking she knew she should stop, but it all came spilling out, the indignation of the weekend, the feeling of injustice. Yes, she was impulsive and jumped in feet-first, but this time she really had done her due diligence. She could give a date and a time to the exact conversation they’d had about St Mary’s church, tell anyone where she was when Simon had talked about having children one day. What she hadn’t factored in was that Simon had started an affair, and his feet had cooled to arctic blocks since then.

Suddenly she noticed the photographer with the long black lens taking photos from the other side of the street and realised she’d told the reporter far too much.

‘That’s all off the record,’ she said, now feeling shaky and barely able to remember what had just spewed out.

‘You sound pretty pissed off with him,’ said the reporter who, as she looked more closely, reminded her of a weasel, with his sharp-eyed intensity and long neck. ‘What did you say to him? I’d have kneed him in the balls. What was your reaction?’

‘No comment,’ she said, although she wished she had kneed Simon in the balls. ‘Look, I don’t want this in the paper. It was all a mistake. There is no story. You’re not taking photos, are you?’

He shrugged with nonchalant indifference, deliberately not looking towards the photographer.

No! Mina realised he had a tiny voice recorder in his left hand. She tried to snatch at it but he moved it out of reach very smartly, as if it wasn’t the first time someone had tried to do just that.

Realising that the photographer was now taking an interest, she stopped and glared at the reporter. ‘Leave me alone.’

Fuming, Mina hitched her bag over her shoulder, side-stepped around the reporter, and darted across the road to her car. The photographer, mistaking her action, took a few more pictures and then, thinking she was coming after him, took off, running down the street in shoes designed with considerably more athleticism in mind than her black boots. Although it had crossed her mind to confront him, she headed for her little navy Beetle, sending a vindictive glare towards the reporter now hovering between two parked cars. He took one look at her face, waved, and speed-walked away.

She got into her car and bashed her head against the steering wheel. ‘Bloody, bloody, bloody, effing hell.’ Bad enough that everyone at work would know; now it seemed the whole nation was about to be treated to the story of Mina, the dumb blonde, getting it very wrong with her man. It didn’t take a genius to come up with the headlines.

‘Who’s the donkey now?’

‘Hit me with your proposal stick.’

With a sigh she started up the engine. Time to face the music at work.

‘I think you need to warn Miriam and Derek,’ said Hanna three hours later, when Mina phoned her during her lunch hour.

‘Warn them about what?’ That Simon – who they thought was the bee’s knees, on account that he’d always brought them a bottle of the same wine on every single occasion he came to the house for Sunday lunch – was actually a two-timing bastard who had been shagging her former best friend for the last four weeks, one of which coincided with Sunday lunch and the provision of aforementioned, Casillero del Diablo, red wine.

‘Warn them that one of their adopted daughters might be appearing in a national newspaper. They’re going to be horrified.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’

‘I meant they’ll be horrified if you don’t tell them first. Look, why don’t we both go round together tonight after work. I can give you moral support.’

‘Thanks, Han. I think you might need to provide medical support. There could be heart attacks all round when they find out that Simon is not the golden boy they thought he was. I reckon Aunty M might have been knitting bootees on the quiet.’

Hannah was locking her car across the street when Mina pulled into a handy parking space after a very difficult day at work. Switching off the engine, she watched her sister approach in the wing mirror as she slumped wearily in her seat. What a day. Bloody bastard Simon had told his side of the story very convincingly to just about everyone before Mina even walked through the front door. He’d managed to make her look extremely manipulative by intimating that her proposal had been a misguided attempt to force his hand in front of everyone.

With a sigh, she grabbed her handbag and hauled herself out of the car.

Hannah wrinkled her face as she studied Mina. ‘Oh dear. Rotten day.’

‘The worst. Simon got in first and made out I got my just desserts.’

‘Ouch, I’m sorry. I did consult a friend who works for a law firm that deals with the media to try and find out if you could get an injunction or anything. Sorry, the cost would be prohibitive and the grounds – to protect against damage to reputation – are based on very stringent principles, which she didn’t think applied in this instance.’

Mina threw her arms around her sister. ‘Han, I love you, and that you even tried for me. You’re the best.’

‘Not really, I stopped you going round and slapping Belinda. In hindsight, she deserves it.’

‘You stopped me getting an assault charge, as you pointed out at the time, and just imagine what the news reporter would have made of that if I’d been arrested.’

‘It’s so unfair, Mina.’

‘Don’t worry… I’ll get my own back. Just give me time to think of something.’

Hannah grinned. ‘That’s my girl. What are you thinking?’

‘He’s very worried about his receding hairline.’

‘And?’

‘Hair removal cream in his shampoo?’

‘What if he gets it in his eyes or something? It’s pretty strong stuff. You could get sued.’

Mina screwed up her nose. That was the sort of thing Hannah would worry about.

‘OK, maybe I’ll just fill it with lots of dead flies or something horrible.’

‘Where will you get—’

Mina nudged her sister. ‘Shut up. I’ll think of something while I’ve still got the keys to his flat. I’m not speaking to him at work and I’m going to completely ignore him.’ There was a leave-in hair mask he was rather partial to. Perhaps she could add to it – a leave-in hair dye. Blue, she’d heard, was very difficult to remove. The more she thought about it, the perkier her steps towards her adopted parents’ drive became.

‘Oh my God!’ Hannah stopped dead, putting a hand out to stop Mina.

‘Oh my God,’ repeated Mina, as they both stared at the For Sale sign outside their parents’ house.

‘They’re moving?’ Hannah shook her head. ‘Do you think they’re having a mid-life crisis or something?’

‘It must be a mistake,’ said Mina. ‘They’ll never move. They’ve never even talked about it before.’

Their adopted parents were the most change-averse people in the entire universe. Derek had worked in the same office for the last forty-five years and every single person that worked with him there adored him. Miriam had worked part-time for the newsagent on the other side of town since she was sixteen, even though it was two bus rides away, which Mina had never understood. Actually there was quite a lot about their adopted parents that neither girl understood, such as their complete disinterest in food, their preference for annual holidays in Eastbourne, dedication to routine: laundry on Monday and Wednesday, the food shop on Thursday, fish and chips every Friday (there’d been mild alarm when Our Plaice had been bought out and became Oh My Cod), and a trip to the park every Saturday morning.

At the same time there was also an awful lot to love. Miriam and Derek were the kindest, gentlest, and most generous people, even if they couldn’t make a decision to save their lives. When Hannah and Mina’s real parents drove off a cliff in Serbia, when they were two and three respectively, it never occurred to Miriam and Derek not to adopt their two orphaned nieces. Miriam had been ten years older than her sister, Georgie, and they were the original chalk and cheese – although from what Miriam said, it seemed that the more adventurous Georgie had been led astray by her daredevil husband, Stuart, from the minute she met him. Before having children they’d climbed the Eiger, white-water rafted on the Zambesi, bungy-jumped in Queenstown, and trekked in the Kalahari. Post-children, they’d restricted their activities to weekends in Europe, rally driving in Serbia, hanggliding in Bavaria, and mountain biking in the Pyrenees – and the childless Miriam and Derek had only been too happy to babysit.

She and Hannah stood on the threshold of the gravelled drive and looked up at the three-storey house, which she had to admit did need a little TLC these days. When had the paint on the window frames on the top floor started to crack and peel? And there were an awful lot of weeds establishing themselves in places they had no business to be.

‘It’s probably worth a fortune,’ said Hannah. Over the years the street had become gentrified.

‘I guess, but I never thought they’d move, and why haven’t they mentioned it?’

They sat around the faded, pale-blue Formica kitchen table, which was so old that it would probably sell well on Etsy as a retro item. The kitchen cabinets with their cream doors and plastic wood surrounds were circa 1970 and the oldest that Mina had ever seen. A museum might be prepared to take them as they were immaculate.

‘It’s a lovely surprise to see you both,’ said Miriam, her hands fluttering around the Hornsea pottery mug of builder’s tea. ‘I haven’t got anything in for supper though. We were going to have a couple of chicken fillets and chips. There might be a couple of Rich Tea biscuits somewhere.’

And that, thought Mina, said it all. Biscuits should be irresistible, and you should know exactly how many you had left because they’re so delicious you’ve been rationing yourself, and there should always be something in the cupboard you could throw together.

‘Don’t worry, Aunty M,’ said Hannah, kicking Mina under the table before she could say anything.

Not being able to feed someone was complete anathema to her.

‘It’s quite useful you popping round though,’ said Derek with a distinctly uncomfortable wriggle. He’d been fidgeting in his seat since they’d sat down.

‘Well, there’s a reason,’ said Mina, diving straight in, wanting to get it over with. ‘Simon and I have finished. I just wanted you to know before you read about in a national newspaper.’

‘Oh no, darling. That’s such a shame. He’s such a nice boy. Isn’t there anything you can do to patch things up? Are you sure it’s over, you’re not just overreacting?’ Mina shot a look over the table at her sister. Why did everyone automatically assume it had to be something to do with her?

‘He has been seeing Belinda behind my back,’ she said, proud of her restraint. The sentence deserved at least two expletives.

‘But why would he do that?’ Miriam looked genuinely perplexed.

‘Because he’s a two-timing, cheating bastard.’ Mina’s saccharine smile didn’t placate her mother.

‘Well, that’s a terrible shame.’ Her aunt’s fluttery hands plucked at the pattern on the mug in front of her.

Mina eyed them. Neither of them had picked up on the ‘national newspaper’ words.

‘Actually, we have something quite important to tell you,’ said Derek, as he and Miriam exchanged another one of those worried, panicky looks.

Mina stiffened. Was one of them ill? She looked with alarm at both their faces. She couldn’t bear it if anything happened to either of them. Her parents were a distant memory, but Miriam and Derek were the constants in her life, unstinting in their love and support. They were her real parents now.

‘We’ve decided to downsize. I’m going to take voluntary redundancy and we’re going to move to a bungalow.’

‘Wow, that’s a lot of change in one go for you two,’ said Mina, relief coursing through her as she ignored the warning glare Hannah sent her.

‘It’s time. This house is too big for us… always was, really, and we can’t keep up with the maintenance.’

‘And the redundancy package is very good, and I was due to retire next year anyway. With that and the pension, we can buy a nice little place.’

‘But if you sell this house, you’ll have loads of money.’ Houses on this street, this size, in this area, must have been worth well over a million pounds – one-point-two or one-point-three at least.

Miriam and Derek exchanged another one of those diffident, uncertain glances, and neither of them spoke for longer than what was an acceptably pregnant pause.

For at least a full minute the four of them looked at each other as the clock on the wall with its loud tick counted down the seconds like a timer on a bomb.

‘Oh no, you haven’t been scammed by one of those equity companies, have you?’ Hannah straightened, her hands clasped with sudden worry.

‘No, no,’ said Derek. ‘It’s not that.’

It went quiet again and Mina wanted to shake one of them to break free the vital piece of information that they didn’t seem to be able to volunteer. Hannah gave her another warning kick under the table. Seriously, why did people always assume she was the loose cannon about to say the wrong thing?

‘Anyone want another cup of tea?’ Miriam reached for the tea pot, pulling off the dark brown knitted tea cosy. She was the only person Mina knew who actually used a tea cosy.

‘Yes,’ said Derek with over-enthusiastic eagerness.

Mina moved her legs out of range, ignoring Hannah’s narrowed eyes.

‘So what’s the problem?’

Derek sighed. Miriam sighed.

‘The thing is…’ Derek tapped his finger on the table. ‘The thing is… The house. It’s not ours.’

‘Oh.’ Mina frowned in confusion. ‘Have you been renting it all this time?’

‘But if it’s not yours,’ said Hannah, ‘How can you sell it?’

Miriam gave a nervous laugh. ‘Well, we sort of, you know, kind of…’

‘We forgot,’ prompted Derek.

‘How can you forget that you don’t own a house?’ asked Hanna, glancing over at Mina.

‘Well, we just got so used to being here.’

‘So the owner is selling the house and you’ve got to leave.’ Mina sat up. ‘I’m sure there are laws to protect you. Aren’t you sitting tenants? They can’t just throw you out. Hannah can sort it all out for you. We won’t let them do that.’

Miriam laughed and patted her hand. ‘That’s not it at all.’

‘Who does own the house, then?’ asked Hannah.

‘Well, you do.’ Miriam smiled as if it were totally obvious.

Mina clicked her key fob and saw the flash of her hazard lights. ‘I can’t believe those two.’

Hannah laughed. ‘How do you forget you don’t own a house?’

‘I suppose they’ve been there for so long they hadn’t thought about it. It must have been a legal nightmare when our real parents died. You’d have thought with their proclivity for adventure they might have thought about having a proper will.’

Miriam had explained that when Georgie and Stuart were killed, everything had been a terrible mess and it had been easier to move into the girls’ family home, which Stuart had inherited from his own parents, rather than unsettling them further by moving them into a rented terraced house on the other side of town. Hence Miriam’s lengthy journey to her job. Derek and Miriam had moved in and started life as a family there, and until they’d decided to downsize, had never even thought about ownership.

‘How do you feel about them insisting the proceeds of the sale come to us?’ asked Hannah.

‘Uncomfortable. It’s totally wrong. They’ve paid for the upkeep of the house all these years. I think they should get enough from the sale to buy whatever they want. That only seems fair to me. There’ll still be plenty left over.’

‘Me too, but they’re adamant it’s our inheritance.’

‘Blimey, the house is valued at one-point-three million. Even if they spent half on a new house, we’d still have plenty. I would far rather they bought another house and kept their savings, especially if Uncle D is going to retire. They could buy a lovely bungalow with that money.’

Hannah didn’t respond. Instead her face was scrunched up in thought. They walked a few more paces in silence until she suddenly swung around to face Mina.

‘If you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?’

‘What, with the money, you mean?’

‘Yes. If you could give up work and go and do something completely different.’

‘I don’t know. Why, what would you do? I thought you loved your job.’

‘I do love my job, but… even you would say it’s a bit dull. I want something more. I’d really like to go somewhere to learn to cook properly.’

‘I just chuck it all in together and hope for the best.’ Mina shrugged.

‘That’s not true. You’re an instinctive cook. You experiment, and you have a real flair – whereas I’m always worried I’m going to get it wrong. I wish I’d done food tech, like you did, for A level.’

‘I don’t think that would have helped you get a law degree. And I do get it wrong sometimes. Beetroot meringue? Remember?’

‘It tasted OK,’ said Hannah with a sudden laugh as they both remembered the soggy purple mess. ‘But I wouldn’t have had a clue where to start to even try something like that. I want to learn to cook properly. Everything from bread-making to pastry, patisserie to butchery… there’s an amazing place in Ireland where you can go for twelve weeks.’

‘Wow, sounds like you’ve been doing some serious thinking.’ Mina was impressed. She rarely thought that logically about the future – she jumped from one adventure to the next – and just for a very brief moment she wondered what she would do if she left her job.

‘Yes. It’s always been a bit of a dream, the course is hideously expensive but,’ Hannah’s eyes gleamed with sudden excitement, ‘with this money, I really could go.’

‘Then this is the perfect windfall,’ said Mina, giving her sister a hug, ignoring the prick of envy over her sister having such a clear vision of what she wanted to do. It always seemed to Mina that Hannah had life sussed, while she’d been the one who still wasn’t sure she’d found what she really wanted. Suddenly her life seemed a little hollow, and the future a little empty. With an unhappy sinking feeling, she realised that she needed to sort herself out. A week ago she’d been bouncing along quite happily and now everything seemed to have stalled, and upon reflection, that was nothing to do with Simon dumping her. What did her future hold, and what did she really want from it? With an unpleasant start, she realised she had no idea, and for the first time in her life she felt a little lost.

Chapter Three

‘But this was outside of work,’ protested Mina as Ian Walters, the HR director, folded his arms.

‘The fact remains that Simon has made an official complaint about you and…’ He sighed. ‘Mina, I have to be seen to be doing something about it.’

‘Well, that’s bloody unfair.’

‘Look, if he chooses to escalate things, it could be a lot worse. And I don’t know what the legal position is, but what if he chooses to take it further as a civil action? What were you thinking?’

Mina folded her arms mutinously. ‘I was thinking he was a cheating sod and that blue hair would suit him.’

Ian tried to hide his amusement and failed miserably. ‘You know everyone is calling it Smurfgate.’

Mina grinned. ‘Are they?’

‘Yes, and I’m being totally unprofessional here. I appreciate that this all took place out of work, but the fact remains that you’ve – I don’t know what to call it, not assault or criminal damage – but at the end of the day you’ve harmed a fellow colleague.’

‘He looked a bit patchy for a couple of days.’ She shrugged before adding, ‘You should see Belinda – good job she doesn’t work here.’ An irate Simon had shown her the pictures. Despite her bravado, Mina did now feel quite remorseful. Belinda’s hair was doing a fair impersonation of mottled mermaid; her streaky blonde highlights had absorbed varying differing strengths of blue and it looked terrible. Even she couldn’t honestly say that Belinda deserved it; it was going to take months and a lot of hairdressing bills to sort out.

‘Mina. You need to sort yourself out.’

She flinched at the words. It was all very well telling herself that, but to hear it from someone else – someone who she respected and admired – that hit home.

‘I’m saying this as a friend. You need to reign in some of your natural enthusiasm and be more commercial. Your last appraisal said it all: you’re creative, a hard worker, but you have a tendency to dive off at a tangent sometimes. Heston Blumenthal can get away with weird and wonderful flavours – you can’t. Our customers are not ready for orange-and-fennel-flavoured pastry in their mince pies. They want traditional, tried and tested. That’s what your job is. To give them that.’

She knew that, but she couldn’t stop herself arguing back, ‘But that’s boring. Did you try my mince pies?’

‘Yes, and they were bloody delicious, but the thing is, you have to toe the company line.’

‘I get that, but you have to push the boundaries a bit otherwise we’d never move forward.’ Mina couldn’t understand the company’s attitude. Last year their mince pies averaged a measly five-out-of-ten in the magazine and online taste tests. Good Housekeeping only gave them a three, and quite frankly she didn’t blame them. Her recipe would have at least garnered some interest, rather than rating bland mediocrity.

‘Mina. Listen to me. Simon is out for blood. You need to keep your head down. You’ve got a lot of holiday owing. Why don’t you take a couple of weeks off? Think about what you really want? Is a career here going to fulfil your creativity? You’re a brilliant recipe developer but… is this the right place for you?’

Mina stared at him. ‘Are you sacking me?’

‘No, not all. You’re one of our best – when you stay on track. I’d hate to lose you, but I worry that this isn’t what you need. Why don’t you go away for a little while, think things through? Hopefully when you get back he’ll have calmed down.’

‘But I’m not in the wrong here—’

Ian raised an eyebrow and she shut up. Actually, a few weeks’ holiday was quite a nice idea. Maybe she could do with some thinking time. There was a whole world out there; perhaps it was time to do something like Hannah and take some time for herself.

‘Hi Hannah.’

‘What?’ asked her sister with a tone of instant suspicion.

‘Why would you say that?’ Mina felt aggrieved as she sat on the end of her bed eying the rather small pile of clothes she’d already earmarked to go in her case.

‘Because you bothered to say hi and use my name. Normally you dive in as if we’re already mid-way through a conversation. Personally I find it endearing, but when you say, “Hi Hannah”, I know you want something.’

‘Well, now you come to mention it. Is there any chance you could give me a lift to the airport on Thursday afternoon?’

‘Wind back a sec. Airport. Thursday. What, this Thursday, as in two days’ time? What’s going on?’

‘You know how you said that putting hair removal cream in Simon’s shampoo would be a bad idea?’

‘Oh God, you didn’t.’

‘No, wait. I didn’t. I refrained.’

‘Thank goodness for that.’

‘I went for the blue hair dye instead.’

‘Oh flipping heck, Mina. Why do you do these things? Seriously. Consequences. Remember consequences.’

‘Yeah, well this time, HR are giving me a hard time.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Simon has complained about me as a colleague.’

‘That slimy weasel. It’s nothing to do…’

‘Don’t think I haven’t told them that, but Simon is making a big fuss. It’s been suggested I take a couple of weeks’ holiday. I don’t see why I should – but I do fancy a holiday.’

‘Oooh, where are you going to go?’

‘I’m going to Switzerland to see Amelie.’

‘Well, that’s unexpected. You’ve got the world at your feet, I thought you’d be going backpacking in Bali, surfing in Sydney, cruising in Croatia, or riding in—’

‘Exactly: too much choice. This was easier and I could do it instantly. She’s always said I’m welcome. And I thought, why not? I haven’t seen her new place.’ To be honest she hadn’t really thought about it that much. When she’d had an email from Amelie yesterday morning, on impulse she’d invited herself.

‘People say that, they don’t always mean it.’

‘Well, she seemed to think two weeks wasn’t long enough,’ argued Mina. ‘Besides I need to get away from work for a while, and I booked flights. I’m flying to Zurich on Thursday afternoon, staying overnight in a hotel and then getting a train to her place on Friday. Have you got any ski kit I can borrow?’

‘Mina, you are hopeless. Yes, I’ve got kit you can borrow. Although TK Maxx do very good-value stuff.’

‘Do they? Cool, I’ll pop in there tomorrow.’

‘What about work?’

‘Ian agreed that I could have unpaid leave for the rest of this week. I’m already well ahead on next year’s Christmas recipes. It wasn’t difficult, just more of the same with an extra pinch of nutmeg.’ She groaned at the thought of the same old, dull formulations. ‘I’ll go shopping tomorrow for thermals and things. I’ve never been anywhere where it’s properly cold before.’

‘Layers. It’s all about layers. There’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes. In fact you should go to one of those outdoor places at Cheshire Oaks. They’ll sort you out with all the right kit.’

By Thursday lunchtime Mina’s case was packed with virtually an entire new wardrobe, and a considerable extension to her overdraft. She also had a brand new notebook and a copy of Moving Onwards and Upwards: Get the life you deserve, find purpose and achieve your goals which she’d bought on a whim in Waterstones. She’d caught sight of it out of the corner of her eye, and while she didn’t believe in fate or providence, it did seem to sum up what Ian had been hinting at. Reading it, she felt sure, was bound to help in sorting herself out – or at least it would feel as if she were trying. She’d always been someone with a plan, who knew what they were doing. Since everything that happened after her disastrous would-be proposal, for the first time in her life, she felt herself floundering, and not really knowing what to do about it. The book was her equivalent of a lifebelt. Reading it was a practical step that she could do straightaway.

She’d read it on her journey – or maybe she’d save it for later, she had a couple of podcasts on her phone to listen to. Who knew what Switzerland held – but she was going to make the most of these two weeks, and think about the future, not look backwards and dwell on the mess she was leaving behind.

Part Two

Chapter Four
Zurich

Zurich in mid-February brought tears to her eyes as the cold bit at her nose. Mina huddled deeper in the long down coat that she’d bought especially for the trip. It made her feel positively European among the other women wearing very similar outfits in the sparsely populated streets.

Last night when she’d arrived in the dark by train, which sped efficiently from the airport to the city centre in just ten minutes, the snow-covered roofs and spires had piqued her interest. Now in the bright sunny morning she regretted giving herself so little time to explore the city. Her train to Reckingen, in the canton of Valais, was due to leave just after lunch, which left very little time to wander the streets, checking out the inviting nooks and crannies of the little lanes and cobbled roads.

She’d done a little reading on the internet and had been fascinated to find that Switzerland was made up of twenty-six cantons, each of which were individual states with their own distinct regional foods and dialects. It was like each county in England having its own rules and regulations, and she wondered how on earth it worked in Switzerland. Now she was here, she thought maybe she should have done more research but – she gave herself a wry smile – that was typical of her, jumping in with both feet. Besides it was more of an adventure to find things out as you went, wasn’t it?

Luckily the friendly receptionist in her hotel had given her an extremely handy leaflet with a recommended short walking tour which encompassed all the highlights in one quick circuit, taking in the old Roman fort Lindenhof for an ‘inspiring view of the city’, St Peter’s church ‘to see the largest clockface in Europe’, the Fraumünster with its ‘must-see’ Chagall stained glass windows, and, across the river Limmat over the Münster Bridge, the Grossmünster, ‘a Romanesque Protestant church’. It seemed like a lot of churches to someone who really wasn’t that spiritual, but the prescribed walk offered a quick snapshot in her limited time slot.

After a breathless, steep climb, the old fort did indeed afford the promised ‘inspiring view of the city’, providing a wonderful snapshot of the different architectural styles spread along the banks of the Limmat, from the white buildings crowding onto the river front with their pale blue, green, or grey wooden shutters and the terracotta roofs glowing in the mid-morning sunshine, through to splendid steep-pointed, gothic spires protruding from every part of the city. Taking a moment to enjoy the view, she took a few photos to share with Hannah, Miriam, and Derek on the family WhatsApp group, and then, conscious of the time and her train in a couple of hours, she walked to St Peter’s Church and took another tourist snap of the enormous clock face, before hurrying on down another street following the arrows on the leaflet. She was about to take a left turn when something stopped her and she lifted her head to take an appreciative sniff. Chocolate. The rich scent filled the air and she could almost taste it. Abandoning her route, she followed her nose down a narrow cobbled lane, where the tall houses created an alley-like feeling with flags on either side of the street almost touching each other.

Halfway down, housed in an old timber-framed building, was a tiny shop which, judging from its large, incongruously contemporary plate-glass window display, sold nothing but chocolate.

How could she resist? Chocolate or churches? Was there even a choice? Without hesitation, she pushed through the door and stopped on the threshold, entranced by the even deeper and richer scent, which brought with it images of molten, sinuous chocolate. Chocolate heaven indeed. Whoever had arranged the displays had to be in cahoots with the devil, the whole place reeked of sinful decadence and Mina loved it. Ahead of her, on pale grey shelves showcased by strategically placed spotlights were matt black dishes filled with all manner of temptation, from tiny Florentines to cocoa-dusted truffles to glossy pralines. In the centre of the shop were a few well-placed pedestals upon which blocks of chocolates lined up like dominoes around tiny vases of fresh flowers. Stepping closer, she read the labels: white chocolate flavoured with rose, yoghurt, and raspberries; dark chocolate flavoured with lemon and hibiscus; milk chocolate with hazelnuts.

Like a prowling cat, she examined all the different displays, taking her time, considering the flavours and wondering, if she had to narrow it down, what on earth she would buy. And then she knew without looking at the prices, which she guessed were going to be in the extremely expensive bracket, she just had to buy some.

Sometimes chocolate was all you needed, she decided with a happy smile.

Although she’d already bought Amelie a beautiful hand-printed silk scarf as a thank-you-for-having-me present, she decided an additional box of chocolates wouldn’t go amiss, and then perhaps a small taster of chocolate for herself to help the long journey…

She took her time, perusing the selection before she made her final selections. Chocolate, after all, was serious business. Churches could wait. At last she thought she’d got the perfect balance. Three small bars of chocolate, because she was intrigued by the different enticing flavours, and for Amelie, whose taste she wasn’t completely sure of, a box of different-flavoured chocolate squares.

‘You like chocolate,’ teased the petite woman when she took them to the cash desk.

‘I love chocolate, but I don’t know as much about it as I’d like to. These all sound so interesting.’

‘You’ve come to the right country. We invented chocolate as you know it today. If you’re really interested you should take a chocolate tour, there are several in the city.’

‘I’d love to, but I’m catching a train today and going to stay with my godmother.’

‘There are chocolate factories all over Switzerland. I’m sure she’ll know somewhere.’

‘I’ll ask her,’ said Mina, as she handed over her card, not even flinching at the astronomical number of Swiss Francs she was parting with. A tour would be brilliant, she’d always wanted to know more about how chocolate was made and what differentiated one from another. Chocolate recipes were one of her passions. Before she worked in a food kitchen, she’d experimented a lot at home and had amassed a collection of her own ideas over the years. Once upon a time she’d thought about writing her own recipe book, but then life and work had got in the way.

Clutching the ribbons of her fancy carrier bag, she walked down the street towards the river, beaming at passers-by as she thought of her purchases. Most smiled back, albeit after an initial second of reserve. See: that was the power of chocolate. It made you happy, and it made other people happy in the same way as a smile. Feeling a definite skip in her step, she crammed her hat down on her head, catching the eye of a young man walking past. He shot her a flirtatious smile, dark eyes scanning her with quick interest, and she grinned back but didn’t slow her stride.

Across the Limmat she spotted the dome-topped twin towers of the Grossmünster, which according to her trusty leaflet had been described by Wagner as pepper dispensers. She thought that was a little harsh, as she studied the creamy stone glowing in the winter sunlight. It was an imposing sight – but now with very limited time, she decided the lure of stained glass windows designed by Marc Chagall, as described in her leaflet, was far stronger. These were to be found in the rather beautiful Fraumünster church which, she decided, looked much more interesting with its dramatic, dragon-scale-like green tiles covering the steeple that draped like curtains around another imposing clock face.

The stained glass windows were every bit as stunning as her faithful leaflet had promised, and the vibrant jewel-bright glass glowed, backlit by the sun. What must it be like to create something that people revered and adored, wondered Mina and, probably like many in the church, pondered her own insignificance. If she thought about it – something she’d avoided before now – she hadn’t really achieved much in her life. Splitting up with Simon had brought with it an unpleasant and rather shaming awareness that, despite all her zest for life, her life was actually quite small. She hadn’t really been anywhere or done anything. According to the leaflet, Wagner, Einstein, and James Joyce had all lived in Zurich at some point in their rich and varied lives, and all had left lasting contributions to society.

Good cook, great theme nights, fun to be with – would probably be the sum total of her epitaph. It wasn’t as if she wanted to change the world but it would be nice to know that she’d made a difference to someone and achieved something during her lifetime. She thought she’d had a positive impact on Simon, livened him up a little. It turned out she’d just irritated and frustrated him half the time. And at work her most notable success was a recipe for the company’s best-selling chicken and chorizo risotto, which if she was honest was mostly a paella rip-off. Hardly that innovative.

Feeling her mood deflating, she took one last look at the windows and gave them a quick salute. Good old Marc Chagall. He’d been eighty when he’d designed the windows – surely that meant there was time for her to find something more meaningful in her life?

‘Can I collect my case, please? And thank you so much for the leaflet, it was really useful.’

Mina nodded at the receptionist, who’d been so helpful earlier.

‘Ah, good. I’m pleased. Does your case have a name on it?’

‘It has a Harry Potter luggage tag on it.’ She grinned, remembering carefully inscribing the very succinct address. Amelie’s. Reckingen, Valais, Switzerland.

The woman smiled back and disappeared into the small office just off the reception area before returning with the case. Mina grasped the handle and headed out along the street and across the road to the railway station, feeling a quick kick of anticipation. On to the next leg of her holiday. Proper snow and mountains.

As soon as she entered the station her eyes scanned the kiosks looking for one particular name and there it was. Brezelkönig. Unfortunately her impulsive diversion into the chocolate shop had messed up her judicious allocation of time, and she only had ten minutes to find the platform and board her train. She faltered for a second – but Amelie’s last email had included an instruction: Mina ‘must try a kurbiskernen from Brezelkönig in the station. They are the best.’

As she hesitated she caught the rich yeasty smell wafting across the concourse. With sudden decisiveness she altered her course and dashed up to the window of the kiosk. There was a fine selection of dark golden brown pretzels with their glossy, shiny skin, and also a bit of a queue – but she was here now, and she’d need more than chocolate to eat on the train. As she stood in line, her mouth began to water and her eyes homed in on the kurbiskernen: a pumpkin seed-covered prezel. Finally when she reached the front of the queue, not trusting her schoolgirl German, she pointed to the pretzel and held up two fingers; it was a long journey after all. The girl serving immediately answered in English which made Mina smile with chagrin. She should have at least tried. Handing over her cash, she said, ‘Danke schön,’ and immediately felt a bit better for making some effort.

Grasping her paper bag, she searched the departure boards and spotted the train going to Brig, which was where she had to change to get the train that travelled up through to Goms.

Platform 32. To her horror she realised that was in the lower level of the station, and she had precisely six minutes to find it. Picking up speed, she began to weave her way through the crowd and immediately found herself caught up in a cluster of schoolchildren. It was like dodging a meteor shower as they veered in front of her from all directions. After a near-miss with a small boy, she extricated herself and dived towards the escalator going down to the lower floor.

Half dragging and half lifting her suitcase, she tried to hurry down, receiving irritated glares as she pushed past the other serene passengers who seemed in no rush at all.

Running along, she counted down the platforms, twenty, twenty-three, thirty and phew, thirty-two. To her horror the platform was empty and the doors were closing. Hauling in a dry breath, she belted down the platform heading for the nearest open door which was just being closed.

‘Hey,’ she called. ‘Can you hold the door?’

There was a whistle and she put in an extra burst of speed, drawing level with the door. A man leaned out and grabbed her case, threw it in, and then hauled her in through the door with so much momentum that they both went tumbling to the floor, the door slamming behind them.

Before Mina had a chance to disentangle herself from the sprawl of his and her limbs, the train began moving.

‘Phew, that was a close one.’ She beamed in delighted triumph at her saviour who was wincing. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘Mmph, I don’t suppose you could get your elbow out of my solar plexus.’

‘Oh, yes, sorry. Of course, although I’m not sure where the solar plexus is.’

‘I think you’ll find it’s currently at the end of your very pointy elbow.’

She shifted immediately and he sat up, pushing back an unruly mop of sunshine-highlighted curls from his face, revealing dancing blue eyes and a lopsided wide mouth, already curving into a ready smile. The slightly too-long wayward hair looked as if it had seen an extended season in the sun somewhere, and the overall impression of sunshine and happiness made it impossible not to smile back.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. Are you OK?’ She reached out with her hands to touch him and then stopped halfway, realising it was probably totally inappropriate on less than thirty seconds’ acquaintance, but there was just something about him that made her feel at ease, as if he were in the habit of conducting conversations on the floor of a train all the time and it was completely normal.

He shot her another dazzling grin that made her feel a little fizzy inside. Probably just the adrenaline buzz after nearly missing the train.

‘I’m fine. Although you do have exceptionally pointy elbows.’

She examined her elbow. ‘Do you think they’re pointier than most people’s?’

With a tilt of his head, he studied her arm as he rubbed his chest. ‘Yes, and I’m prepared to give you a testimonial if you ever need one. But it was a pretty damn brilliant rescue, you have to admit.’ This time the grin on his face was decidedly cocky, but still full of good humour.

‘I do. A perfect knight with metaphorical shining armour. Although if you had been wearing armour the elbow wouldn’t have been a problem. Thank you again.’

‘So do I get one of these?’ He held up one of her chocolate bars, which must have spilled from her bag. The sunshine streaming in through the window glistened on the golden hairs on his arms. Mina knew that finding arms attractive might be considered strange, but it was her thing, and those forearms were lovely enough that it was tempting to reach out and stroke them. That would be weird, wouldn’t it?

‘Hmm,’ she sucked in a considering breath and looked at him, deliberately studying his face, realising that her pulse had just tripped ever so slightly. ‘I’m not sure it’s worth a whole bar.’

Although she wouldn’t mind sharing it with him; he had a very nice face. Good strong jaw with sand grains of bristle glinting on his chin and definite laughter lines etched in tanned skin fanning out from his dark-fringed eyes, which were deep set and very blue. If they ever had babies together, they’d be gorgeous – and just as quickly she slammed that thought down.

‘A rescue like that. Come on.’ Now he was twinkly-eyed, encouraging her in the game.

‘A quarter.’

‘A quarter!’ His mock outrage made her giggle. ‘For heroic services to fair maidens. That’s not going to keep body and soul together. And how am I supposed to battle to the death for a seat for you? I need sustenance.’

‘Are seats in short supply?’ she asked, alarmed. The journey was just over two hours.

‘We should be alright at this time. It gets busier later as everyone heads to the slopes for the weekend.’

They both rose to their feet and he hauled up a huge rucksack and slid it onto his back before picking up an ancient suitcase which looked as if it might have belonged to his granny. This bizarrely incongruous combination puzzled Mina as he ushered her through to the carriage, which was surprisingly full. ‘If you keep going, the other end of the train is usually much quieter.’

Together they swayed along the aisle as the train slunk with surprising quietness through the outskirts of Zurich, walking through five carriages before they finally came to one with several pairs of free seats.

‘Mind if I join you?’ he asked, gesturing at two seats together. ‘You’re going to want a window seat on this trip.’

‘No, not at all.’ The very same question had been hovering on her lips as she’d followed his cute bum and loose-limbed stride down the train. In jeans and a leather sheepskin-lined flying jacket, he embodied cool without trying too hard, but then the bright red, chunky, woollen scarf added a dash of irreverent mischief, stopping him from having that frosty unapproachability of the ubercool Instagram crowd. Besides, he seemed cheerful, upbeat, and was very easy on the eye – she had no objections at all. She got the impression that he was an embrace-life-at-full-speed, fun guy who was easy to flirt with and would never take anything too seriously. A bit like herself.

‘How about I go find us a coffee to go with the chocolate?’ he asked, unwinding the scarf from around his neck.

‘You’re not giving up, are you?’

‘Well, it does look like jolly nice chocolate.’ A Labrador couldn’t have looked more hopeful.

‘Stop with the puppy dog eyes.’ She held up a warning hand even though she couldn’t hide her amusement. ‘You supply the caffeine and I’ll supply the theobromine.’

‘The what?’

‘It’s a stimulant found in chocolate.’ She preened just a little, because she liked the sudden admiration in his eyes.

‘Fancy. Are you really good at crosswords?’

She laughed. ‘God no, I don’t have the patience. I’m a food technologist. We know that sort of stuff.’

‘Is it true they put motor oil in sauces to make them shiny in the pictures?’

‘’Fraid so. And white glue as milk, and mashed potato to fill pies. All tricks of the trade.’

‘I think I’d better go and buy the coffee before you tell me that it’s made with tar or something horrible.’

‘Would you like some money?’

‘No.’ His mouth twisted with that beguiling lopsided smile. ‘This way you’ll feel beholden to share your chocolate.’

‘You don’t know me very well. When it comes to chocolate, I’m not beholden to anyone.’ She lifted a teasing eyebrow.

He huffed out a sigh. ‘Tough nut. I’ll have to come up with a new strategy while I scour the train for a trolley or the food carriage.’

She watched him leave. Having an amusing travel companion would certainly brighten the journey. Sitting still for a couple of hours had never been her idea of fun. Hannah, her sister, was a world-class bookworm, but Mina couldn’t keep her mind on the pages unless it was a recipe book. At Hannah’s suggestion, she had tried audiobooks, but she’d suddenly find herself lost in thought and ten minutes on from the last bit she’d heard, with no idea what had happened between. With podcasts, it didn’t matter if she tuned out.

At least in his absence she could give herself up to thinking about which chocolate bar she should open. It took a lot of deciding, and she was still umming and ahhing when he returned with two steaming cups of coffee.

‘It’s quite simple, you just open the packet,’ he teased, sitting down opposite her.

‘This is not just any chocolate you know. I have Ecuadorian dark chocolate, Madagascan milk chocolate with a praline filling, and a Ghanaian sea salt and almond chocolate.’

‘Are you a connoisseur or something?’

She pondered the question for a second.

‘An afficionado, I guess.’

‘Is there a difference?’

‘A connoisseur knows their stuff, an afficionado has great affection for something,’ she replied gravely, as if she had the first clue what she was talking about.

He regarded her for a second, suspicion darkening his eyes, before she burst into laughter. ‘I don’t actually know, but I love chocolate, and I know a little about it from working in a food kitchen.’

‘It’s a bit late for introductions but, girl-with-a passion-for-chocolate, do you have another name?’

‘Yes, Mina.’

‘Nice to meet you, I’m Luke.’

‘So where are you headed?’

‘I’m… I’m going skiing. In Valais.’ Mina frowned at the quick hesitation. She was good at spotting a lie, or at least she always thought she’d been. Clearly she’d missed a trick with Simon.

There was something about his words that didn’t quite ring true, and then she realised. ‘So where are your skis?’

‘That is the most brilliant thing about train travel in Switzerland. You can send them on ahead.’

‘Really?’

‘Yup. The Swiss are big on trains. They travel more by train than any other nation in the world, and you can get one to just about anywhere in the country, which is pretty impressive when you consider most of the country is taken up by mountains. Which makes them experts at building bridges and tunnels. This journey is quicker by train than by car and takes in—’ He halted suddenly and waved an apologetic hand. ‘Sorry. Time to get off my soapbox, your eyes were starting to glaze over.’

Mina didn’t think they were; his enthusiasm was infectious. He could probably make drying paint sound appealing.

‘You sound like a bit of a train enthusiast.’

For a second his eyes slid away from hers and then he asked, ‘So are you here on holiday, or do you work here?’

She recognised a change of subject when she saw one. Uncle Derek had one serious hobby. He was a proper, full-on trainspotter and his ever-expanding Hornby railway set, which had once belonged to their real dad, still took up the entire floor area of the loft. For a moment she wondered what Derek would do with it when they moved, and whether it actually belonged to her and Hannah.

‘Me? Work here? Why on earth would he think that?’

‘Twenty per cent of the population in Switzerland are foreigners. Usually based in the five main cities. Financial folk in Zurich, political in Bern, pharmaceuticals in Basel, legal in Lausanne – and Geneva, where I work, is the HQ for the UN.’

‘So you live in Geneva?’

‘Sort of. I’m between posts at the moment, trying to decide on my next role, so I’m taking an extended holiday.’

‘The UN sounds interesting.’ Although he also a sounded a little flaky; wasn’t ‘between posts’ a euphemism for being unemployed?

‘It sounds a lot more interesting than it is sometimes.’ He shrugged. ‘But it has its pluses. I get to do a lot of travelling.’

‘Lucky you. I create food dishes from all over the world – Milano parmigiana, Bombay spiced chicken, Moroccan lamb tagine. The nearest I’ve got to Bombay is Manchester Airport. My family were never big on travel. My parents’ idea of exotic is a static caravan in Normandy – and that’s a significant upgrade from our six-man tent in Eastbourne.’ She wasn’t going to talk about Simon and his allergy to flying; his name had been expunged from her brain. She refused to give him one micromillimetere of head-room.

‘I’ve never been camping. It always sounded a lot of fun.’ Luke sounded wistful.

‘Hmm, me and my sister would rather have been having fun in Ibiza or Mykonos, but if we hadn’t gone with my aunt and uncle – we grew up with them – they’d never have got the tent up. They’re a bit useless sometimes.’ She shook her head, ‘Love ’em to bits, but they’re the most dithery, indecisive people on the planet. Thank goodness Aunty M’s bladder isn’t what it used to be and she likes to have a handy bathroom. Hence the upgrade to caravan in France. Oops, sorry too much information.’ She slapped her forehead. ‘I’m sure you don’t want to know about my aunt’s incontinence problems.’

He laughed. ‘Not really. So is this a holiday or not, then?

‘More of a tactical retreat.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m taking some time off from work. Let’s say HR suggested I book some holiday. My godmother lives over here and she sent me an invite at exactly the right moment. It seemed like a good idea. I’m dying to try skiing properly, I’ve only ever done the indoor type. Are you a skier?’

‘Yes. Downhill, snowboarding, cross-country. You name it, I love it – although where I’m headed there’s a lot more cross-country skiing, which is more leisurely than downhill, but gives you a chance to take in the beautiful scenery.’ His eyes glowed with enthusiasm. ‘And it is a beautiful country.’ He nodded out of the window and Mina gave a gasp. The train had slowed, and as she looked back she could see it was easing its way around the dramatic curve of a viaduct that seemed to have been built straight into the mountainside. ‘Oh my, we’re so high up.’

‘Over fifty metres. This is an incredible feat of engineering.’

‘It’s amazing, and to think suddenly we’re in the mountains, just like that.’ She stared out of the window at the jagged peak edges that dominated the skyline and the snow-laden firs that crowded onto the lower slopes. Far below, a valley stretched away to the distance, a dark river meandering through the snowy banks and a tiny village straggled along the valley, the houses spread out across the river meadows.

‘Imagine living there.’ She pointed down at the tiny settlement. ‘It feels as if we’re miles from anywhere, cut off from real life.’

‘That’s part of the attraction for a lot of people, especially those who come at the weekend to get away from it all. The lady who runs the place I’m going to really understands that. She makes it a home from home.’ He laughed. ‘There are quite a few regulars who come out every weekend during the season. I get the impression she likes looking after people.’

Mina’s smile dimmed. People used to say that about her, but now she felt a little abandoned. In the last two weeks, everyone at the fateful dinner party had given her a wide berth, as if they were embarrassed for her. Even the two Georges had cancelled their regular second-Saturday-of-the-month pizza night. She was grateful for the sudden distraction of the view, which had burst upon them in glorious technicolour.

She pressed her forehead to the cold glass trying to peer down the valley. The train skirted the hillside, the tracks truncated its slope at the halfway point, and below, lush green blanketed the meadows on either side of a deep blue river that sparkled and raced across the smooth boulders lacing its shores. Across the valley on the horizon, the jagged snow-covered peaks framed the skyline, the dark rock and white striking against the azure blue of the sky. The contrast of blue and white was almost blinding, and she thought the view was possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, until they rounded another bend and another valley opened up before them, dominated by a brilliant jewel-bright turquoise-blue lake that reflected the mountains on its surface.

‘Oh my goodness, it’s gorgeous,’ she breathed, her eyes scanning each and every detail, trying to commit the sheer beauty to memory.

Luke smiled with almost paternal indulgence.

‘Told you, you get the best views from the train.’

‘It’s so beautiful. I think I could sit and watch for hours.’

‘I find it quite restful, although when I get to the other end I’m always desperate to stretch my legs. Won’t be time today, it’ll be nearly dark when we get there. But tomorrow morning I’ll be out on one of the hiking trails. Can’t wait.’

‘I thought it would all be skiing.’

‘Depends where you go. There’s also a lot of winter hiking. Until the Swiss voted against it, naked hiking was very popular.’ He grinned at her. ‘Imagine the frostbite.’

Mina laughed, not sure if he was telling the truth or not.

‘I’d rather not, it sounds hideous.’ She shivered as her imagination took over. ‘I’ll stick to fully-clothed activities, although I have no idea what’s available where I’m going. I just booked a flight and here I am.’

‘Nothing wrong with that. More of an adventure.’

‘Absolutely,’ she grinned at him. ‘And I’m always up for adventure. I’d really like to have a go at the cross-country skiing, it always looks so elegant.’

He snorted. ‘It’s bloody hard work, but then when you get into a rhythm it is great, and you can take the time to look around and enjoy your surroundings. Zooming down a slope is all good and well, great for the adrenaline rush, but you miss so much. Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I think I prefer cross-country.’

‘Your secret is safe with me. Now as well as chocolate, I also have these.’ She dug in her bag and brought out the pretzels.

Luke groaned. ‘I think I’m in love. Chocolate and kurbiskernen. You are the perfect woman.’

‘You’re easy. You should try my triple-chocolate cake.’

‘Sold. We’ll honeymoon in South America. You ever been white-water rafting or paragliding?’

She beamed at him. ‘Neither, but I’d love to have a go.’

He lifted his coffee cup. ‘To the perfect woman… well, if half of the chocolate were going, you’d be perfect.’

She rolled her eyes and snapped the bar in two.

Chapter Five

Quite where the two-hour journey went, she had no idea. Luke was her idea of perfect company: funny, light-hearted, interesting, and although he was talkative – that made two of them – he was also a good listener. She got the impression that he would have been able to repeat and remember everything she’d told him, which in her book was a rare skill, especially in a man like him. Usually confident, chatty types were too busy thinking about what they wanted to say next about themselves.

Their conversation had batted backwards and forwards with the ease of a gentle rally between Federer and Nadal, and while she made friends easily, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d met someone and felt quite so instantly at ease with them.

When the guard announced that the train would arrive very soon at Brig, where they were both changing, she felt a real pang of disappointment as Luke jumped to his feet and gathered up his rucksack and suitcase.

‘I’m afraid I’ve got a quick change here and I want to try and pick up my skis from the luggage office, so I’m going to love you and leave you.’

‘Have a safe trip. Nice to meet you.’ Her pulse tripped with regret. Asking for his phone number would be crazy. Two strangers on a train.

For a moment, the question hovered on her tongue and she very nearly asked him, but then that was the sort of impulsive behaviour that she was trying to avoid. It didn’t fall within the remit of ‘sorting herself out’.

‘It was lovely to meet you,’ he paused, his eyes skimming over her face, ‘really lovely, Mina.’ He gave her another one of his brilliant lopsided smiles, his gaze dropping with sudden shyness to her lips before he asked with a quick frown, ‘Do you believe in serendipity?’

A couple of butterflies did a few star jumps in her stomach and something fizzed in her chest.

‘I’m not sure,’ she replied slowly, unable to tear her gaze away from his dancing blue eyes, that were now filled with mischief and challenge.

‘Me neither, but sometimes you just know.’ He leaned forward, his mouth inches from hers. ‘If I kiss you maybe…’ He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. She shrugged back, her heart skittering about in her chest. ‘A kiss goodbye.’

His lips grazed hers in a barely-there kiss that seemed to crackle with electricity. Startled, she glanced up to find his eyes were as wide as hers, as if asking did that really happen? She gazed up at him, solemn-eyed, holding on to her breath and he frowned again as if puzzled. The train began to slow and his frown deepened as if he were trying to make up his mind. Then he leaned forward and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her towards him. He paused again as if awaiting her permission. She rose on her toes to meet him as he lowered his mouth again. There was no time for a leisurely exploration – this was a once-in-a lifetime kiss that both embraced with enthusiasm. It was like stepping out into the sunshine, and warmth flooded every last bit of her, she never wanted it to stop.

Then Luke wrenched his mouth away. ‘I’ve got to go. Maybe we’ll meet again one day,’ and with that he rushed away down the carriage to the door while she pressed her fingers against her mouth, smiling as she gathered her belongings together.

Everything still felt discombobulated, as if her whole system was on final spin cycle, when she boarded the next, considerably busier train. The two guys opposite, who had initially perked up like a pair of meerkats when she sat down, probably now thought she was a bit weird. For some reason she couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss, and kept alternating between beaming dreamily to herself and frowning and screwing up her face in dismal self-analysis.

She didn’t really know what to think. Part of her was in the thank-goodness-she-was-never going-to-see-him-again camp because he was so scarily right-but-wrong for her, and there was another part that almost grieved because she would never see him again and he was so scarily right-but-wrong for her. A pertinent reminder of why she’d come on this trip. She yanked Moving Onwards and Upwards out of her bag, opening it up and flattening it against her leg, glowering at the younger of the two men opposite, who craned his neck to read the title. Time to focus, and not think any more about serendipity and amazing kisses.

She forced herself to read the first page. It wasn’t really her sort of thing, but then her sort of thing – jumping in with both feet and not considering consequences – was what had got her to this point in her life, so maybe she ought to make it her sort of thing.

Where are you on your journey in life?

 Waiting for a train

 Chasing a rainbow

 Lost in the forest

 Halfway across the bridge

 Stuck on the motorway

None of those things sounded the least bit appealing, in fact they all sounded depressing. Was she in one of these categories? With a sigh, she read on. Hannah disapproved of these self-help books on principle, she always said that they were written by masters of stating the bleeding obvious. Mina wondered for a minute if perhaps her sister had a point. But these books were written by experts, surely they knew what they were talking about? And shouldn’t you be open to other people’s perspectives on life?

She turned the page, forcing herself to focus. Apparently people who were ‘waiting for a train’ knew what they wanted to do, but were hampered by the belief that they just needed to wait for the right circumstances before they could achieve it. Well, that wasn’t her. She believed you just got on and did things. If you waited for other people to make up their minds, sometimes, like with Derek and Miriam, you could wait forever.

‘Rainbow chasers’ also knew what they wanted, but were scuppered by their own lack of confidence. Again, not her. When she knew what she wanted, she went for it – although in hindsight that had been a big mistake with Simon. If she hadn’t jumped the gun and proposed that night, would things have turned out differently? Although, she couldn’t blame herself for his affair with Belinda.

With another sigh, which earned a further curious look from the guy opposite, she turned the page. According to the author, people ‘lost in the forest’ just didn’t believe that what they wanted was achievable, and therefore gave up on their goals. That sounded a bit wishy-washy, decided Mina. Definitely not her. While reading ‘halfway across the bridge’, the light bulb went on. People who were in the middle of the bridge weren’t sure whether to go forward or back; they didn’t know what they did want, but they did know what they didn’t want. Now that, sadly, did sound like her. Not all the time, but definitely now. Well, at least she wasn’t alone.

With horrible awareness dawning, she reread the words. It was right. The events of the last few weeks had brought her to a crossroads, but none of the roads had helpful signposts on them. She had no idea what she wanted out of life. Her job, which she’d always thought was OK – admittedly she’d been frustrated by the restrictions, but she’d always enjoyed it – now, thanks to Ian in HR pointing it out, wasn’t what she wanted to do forever. It occurred to her, with rather depressing finality, that she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to do it for the rest of this month. Following on from that unwelcome realisation came the next bit of awareness sliding perfectly into place: she didn’t want to stay in Manchester forever.

Heedless of the other fascinated travellers, she let out a disgruntled huff. Darn it. If she were honest, she’d always known she wanted to live somewhere else, but this was the first time the thought had been brought out of hiding from its dusty shelf to be examined properly. But where would she go? You needed a job, a place to live, reasons to move.

And then there was the thorny issue of relationships. She wasn’t built for solitude; she liked being with people and she certainly didn’t want to be single forever, but after Simon, her confidence had been severely dented. She’d always thought she was good partner material. Fun, good company, caring. But Simon had made it clear he thought her personality and disposition weren’t cut out for marriage at all, that being with her was wearing, irritating, and hard work – too much for a man to take on. His view had shocked and frightened her.

She swallowed, feeling uncharacteristically despondent. Her life was a bit of mess, really. At least, according to the book, she wasn’t alone. If she were in the halfway-across-the-bridge category, it meant there were other people out there like her. Thank goodness she wasn’t ‘stuck on the motorway’. That sounded hideous. Apparently that was when you knew what you wanted, but there were too many things getting in the way. That would have driven her mad. She’d rather be a bulldozer and go straight over the top of obstacles. No, she was definitely halfway over the bridge.

To the curious amusement of the man opposite she let out a quick self-deprecating, ‘Hnuh.’ Meeting Luke on the train summed it all up – the perfect example of being halfway across the bridge. Fun, sexy, and spontaneous as he was, he epitomised all the things she didn’t want in a man or a relationship. Ironic because he was so like her. They had so much in common. With awful irony, she realised that the type of guy that Luke was to her, was what she’d been to Simon.

‘Ist dieser Platz besetzt?’

Mina glanced up at the fair-haired, slim woman in jeans and a sunshine-yellow anorak who’d clearly just boarded the train at the last stop. The rapid German defeated her schoolgirl knowledge, but from the way the other woman gestured towards the empty seat beside her, it didn’t take a genius to work it out and she shook her head, giving the girl a welcoming smile. She couldn’t stand those people who looked daggers at you as if they thought no one should sit next to them. ‘All yours,’ she said, indicating the empty seat.

‘Great,’ said the young woman, who was probably about Mina’s age, flopping into the seat, immediately swapping to English in that easy way that so many Europeans did, and which always made Mina wish she’d tried a bit harder to learn a language at school. ‘I thought I was going to have to stand. The train from Geneva was full to bursting.’ She dug in her pocket and pulled out a packet of Jelly Beans. ‘Would you like one?’

‘I’d love one.’ Mina shoved the book back into her bag and turned to give the new arrival her full attention. ‘I haven’t had any for ages and now you’ve given me a complete craving.’

The woman laughed. ‘Me neither, I picked them up in the station shop.’

Over Jelly Beans, Mina bonded in the quick, easy way she frequently did with complete strangers. Hannah often complained she would talk to anyone, but Mina didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. As far as she was concerned, everyone was a potential friend, and where was the harm in that? And once again it paid off, as twenty-seven-year-old Uta was also travelling to Reckingen to stay at a local hotel. Apparently she was meeting up with a party of friends who’d all used to work together in a bank in Zurich.

‘We can take a taxi together,’ said Mina.

‘They go quickly from the station, so be ready to jump off quickly.’

Thanks to Uta’s advice they hopped off the train sharply and made a quick dash to the taxi rank, and were first in the queue.

‘Result,’ said Mina, once again feeling that kick of excitement to be in a new place. She was impatient to see where she’d be staying for the next two weeks. Amelie had suggested she get a taxi, apologising profusely in her last email for this appalling welcome and dereliction of duty as a godmother, but explaining that Mina’s expected arrival time coincided with the one of the busiest times at the ski chalet.

Once seated with Uta in the ancient Mercedes, glancing around at the scenery and the tiny village spread across the slopes, Mina wondered if she actually needed a taxi.

‘The village is smaller than I expected,’ she said to Uta.

‘Yes, but it’s deceptive, some of the houses are more spread out than they look, especially when you have a case, skis, and ski boots.’

Mina craned her neck to look around the driver, to see as much as she could.

The village seemed little more than a cluster of wooden buildings, spread out across the gentle, lower slopes of the valley between the rising mountains on either side. In the crisp winter sunshine, the thick layer of snow blanketing the uniform inverted V-shaped roofs glistened and sparkled like tiny diamonds. It was utterly enchanting and Mina clasped her hands and sighed with sheer pleasure at the pretty-as-a jigsaw-puzzle scenery surrounding her.

‘It’s so beautiful.’

‘That’s why we keep coming back, it’s my favourite place in the whole of Switzerland but don’t tell anyone I told you that. It would be lovely to live here, but there isn’t so much work, not for a finance manager. The houses are very historic – see, they are all made of wood. It’s a very traditional style in the Valais.’

Mina studied the big, dark, sturdy houses dotted across the landscape. They seemed as if they’d been placed at random, with no discernible streets, or sense of the buildings facing the same way. She could probably count each one. She compared the scene to the view from her flat, where the houses and blocks of flats were so densely packed in, you had no idea what was in the next street, let alone on the other side of the valley.

The taxi drove past a few houses before crossing the main road, where she could see a small supermarket and a few shops, before starting to climb very slightly up the side of the valley.

‘We’ll stop at your hotel first. Mine is further on,’ said Uta.

When at last they drew up outside a four-storey chalet, layered with balconies, Mina let out a small sigh of satisfaction. It looked every bit like a typical Swiss Chalet should.

‘Some of my friends stay here. They rave about it,’ said Uta, peering up at the signage by the steps. ‘I keep meaning to stop by and check it out. Maybe I’ll come by in a couple of days and we can have a drink?’

‘Yes, do. You can give me some tips on what to do on the area.’

‘Oh, that’s easy. Ski, hike, and ski some more. Maybe I’ll drop by on Sunday evening with a couple of the guys.’

‘The more the merrier. See you then. Now, what do I owe you for the fare?’

Uta waved a hand. ‘Pfff. Buy me a drink.’

As the taxi drove off, Uta waving from the back window, Mina stood for a moment just taking in the muffled silence, as if every sound had been dulled and diluted. The thick covering of snow had smoothed away the sharp edges of the buildings and softened out the contours of the land, like a freshly plumped-up feather duvet. She couldn’t get over the whiteness of the pristine surface of the snow. At home, almost as soon as the snow fell it was blackened by the city’s car exhaust fumes. Here, everything looked so clean, and as she breathed in, she felt the sharp hit of the freshness in the air. There was a purity and crispness to the atmosphere that she’d never experienced before. Was this what breathing pure oxygen was like, she wondered. She took in another deep breath, amused by the puffs of steam that drifted out of her mouth. The journey had cocooned her, and now it was like being thrust out into a jewel-bright world where all her senses were being retuned.

She turned to look at the building. Constructed entirely of wood, and pretty as it was, those great solid beams reminded her that it had been built to withstand the weather conditions in the winter. Although only four o’clock, the sun had dipped behind the mountains and the bright blue of the sky darkened at the edges like dampened blotting paper. She could feel the temperature dropping rapidly and was grateful for the golden glow that lit each of the windows on the front façade like welcoming beacons.

Lifting her case, she carefully walked up the snow-free steps and pushed open the big, heavy door. She found herself in a small, self-contained lobby area full of shelves and racks for boots and skis, with hanging rails that were already half full of ski jackets and that indefinable smell of the outdoors. Puddles and drips dotted the floor, particularly around the short, low benches on one side of the room where people obviously sat to discard their wet boots. There was a warm, fuggy atmosphere which she realised came from the pipes running around the edge of the room under the racks and rails, clearly designed to help everything dry out overnight. For a moment, she paused to examine the array of footwear, hiking boots, big plastic ski boots, and odd-looking, unfamiliar boots that looked like a cross between a slip-on trainer and an ankle boot. She felt another quick trip of excitement at the thought of getting out into the fresh air and skiing.

She pushed her way through another door and stepped into the most gorgeous light and airy open-plan room, clad with wood and open to the inverted, V-shaped, beamed ceiling. An open timber frame created a notional division between the reception room and the much bigger lounge beyond.

On her right, in the centre of the partition, embers glowed in a huge fireplace of rough-hewn stone built into a vast chimney breast, open on both sides to each room. On the other side the lounge area contained a few people quietly reading or chatting on the selection of sofas and chairs arranged around a big square coffee table facing the fireplace. The atmosphere was smart and elegant, but managing to be cosy and welcoming at the same time. There were two beautiful and expensive-looking, plump, fern-green velvet chairs side-by-side, just begging to be sunk into. They were separated by a small, highly polished table decorated with pretty china bowls, and a tall, long-necked lamp, and opposite, making up a right-angle, were two large, natural-linen, comfortable-looking sofas dotted with stylish cushions of velvet, silk and wool. Underfoot, the floor was made of rustic, wide-planked floorboards that looked as if they had a few stories to tell, and soft wool rugs were dotted here and there. Mina immediately felt as if she could go and take a seat and be at home with everyone else.

On this side of the fire, the reception room had a different feel, slightly more basic with several big squashy, battered, chestnut leather sofas that didn’t look as if they’d quite earned their battle scars, and the coffee table here was a big rustic wooden affair pitted with knots and gnarls. Next to the fire was a huge wrought-iron log holder that was filled to the brim with chopped wood that scented the air.

As she was taking all this in, the cuckoo clock in front of her burst into action, a cuckoo popping out of its tiny door, narrowly missing being decapitated by the painted figure of a wood chopper, whose axe swung as the hands struck four. Mina laughed out loud with delight as she examined the clock with its detailed workmanship and elaborate carving. While it wasn’t that big, it certainly made up for it in volume. Still smiling to herself, she turned and realised that people were appearing from all directions, as if the cuckoo had set off some secret signal, and everything began to happen in perfect sequence. It was like watching a set change at the theatre, as everyone settled into places. Guests who had been absorbed in their books suddenly began chatting to each other, and around corners more people began to appear, taking up seats in both rooms. The noise level rose to an all-round hum, and then a woman, carrying a large tray almost as big as she was, looking like an old-fashioned cigarette girl, burst through the doors at the back of the room, followed by two teenage girls carrying smaller trays. The hum rose and anticipation rippled through both rooms as the woman, beaming at everyone as she went, beat a determined path to the coffee table in the elegant lounge area.

With a hint of triumph, she placed the tray on the table and stood back to absorb the appreciative ‘mmms’ that filled the air. ‘Tonight we have Basler Kirschenbrottorte.’ Only the ta-dah was missing as she presented a dense, rustic-looking cake that perfumed the air with cherries and vanilla. The surface was pitted with craters of dark red, almost caramelised whole cherries. Mina’s stomach rumbled in anticipation. With careful, attentive fussing, plates and mugs were dished out and the cake was sliced up and served.

Mina watched with a smile on her face as each of the guests, probably about twelve in total, were tended to. Cake was pressed upon one reluctant guest who was won over with quick, gentle chiding, a plate was presented with a flourish to another eager guest who clearly knew he was in for a treat, and a forkful-sized taster offered to one young lady who dared to refuse a slice. It was everything she loved to see, people coming together over food, and there at the centre of it was her godmother, Amelie, with a mile-wide smile on her face as she danced through the people, dishing out her little plates of joy. Then she looked up, her smile widening even more. She handed a plate over and, dusting down her hands on her flour-speckled apron, darted to the doorway and came rushing through.

‘Mina, liebling. You’re here,’ she boomed in her deep, loud voice which was so out of keeping with her delicate frame, and grabbed her by the shoulders, kissing her soundly on both cheeks. She hugged Mina close to her. ‘Beautiful girl. Although a little pale, I think.’ She patted Mina’s cheeks. ‘But the good mountain air will bring the roses. Now come, come. Have some cake. Leave your things here.’

Mina found herself thrust into the other room. ‘This is Mina, she’s just arrived.’ She waved at the people in the room as a plate with a slice of cake on it was pushed into her hands. ‘They can introduce themselves. I must bring more coffee. More people are expected.

‘After café and cake, I’ll take you up to your room.’ Amelie glanced up at the cuckoo clock and frowned. ‘The new guests are late. They should be here. But your train was on time.’

‘It was. The taxi rank was very busy.’

‘Ah yes, and one of the taxis has broken down.’ She walked over to the window, and whatever she saw relieved her. ‘It’s OK, they’ve just arrived.’

Mina found herself a seat, helped herself to one of the mugs of black coffee from one of the trays, and sat down on one of the sofas.

‘You just arrived?’ asked her nearest neighbour, an older man with the sort of serious, sophisticated, wireless-framed glasses she associated with Europeans, which didn’t quite go with his extremely bushy eyebrows.

‘Yes,’ replied Mina, picking up her slice of cake and giving it a quick study, her eye caught by the unusual-looking ingredients. It reminded her of a rocky road slice, with unidentified layers among the cherries. ‘This looks delicious.’

‘It’s a very traditional Swiss cake, but no one makes it quite like Amelie, that’s why so many of us come back time and time again. She’s full, you know, and she only started a year ago. I think it’s the café and kuchen hour every day.’

‘What, this?’ Mina waved a hand around the room. Everyone was talking and eating. A symphony of harmony, all cemented together with the glue of cake.

‘Yes, four o’clock. Complimentary cake. The only price is you have to stay and eat it around the fire, and talk to your neighbours.’

‘Sounds very civilised to me.’

‘Some of us have become resigned.’ He gave her a long-suffering grimace. ‘And now I find I can chat with my fellow men a little more easily, as long as I only have to do it once a day.’

Mina laughed. ‘I’m sure it’s good for you.’

‘Hmm,’ he muttered, ‘that’s exactly what Amelie said.’

‘How long have you been coming here?’

‘Since she opened the place last year. I was one of the naysayers. Led protests against it.’

Mina refrained from raising a ‘really’ eyebrow but she didn’t manage to keep her face expressionless.

‘I know. Now I come for cake at four a couple of times a week.’

‘Are you staying here?’

‘No, I live in the village, but we have a deal. I chop all her wood for her, and she feeds me cake once or twice a week. That’s Amelie for you. Turns foes into friends – and then chokes up their arteries to get her revenge.’ His weathered face, made golden by the sun, split into a goblin grin. ‘I’m also a wine merchant, so I put together her wine list. We’re good friends now.’

‘I’m Kurt,’ interrupted another man, leaning over and putting out his hand. ‘I’m here for the weekend with my wife and daughter. I’m posted in Geneva but we come from Canada. We visit once a month for the hiking and to get out of the city. And…’ He paused and held up his slice of cake. ‘For this, like Johannes was saying.’

‘Nice to meet you both.’ Mina was amused and charmed by their easy friendliness. She certainly couldn’t imagine this happening in a hotel in England. ‘I’m Mina.’ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door from the boot room open and some instinctive sixth sense made her turn and look at the three men crowding through, talking in loud, we’re-really-pleased-to-see-each-other type voices. ‘I’m here on holiday and I’m Amelie’s—’ The words died in her mouth as one of the men unwound a scarlet-red scarf, releasing a burst of familiar sun-streaked curls.

For a moment she thought she was imagining things, but when he turned around, the sight of him made her wonder if serendipity did exist after all.

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