Chapter Seventeen
Emme lay in her comfy bed, looking at the ceiling, wondering what the hell she should do.
She wanted to talk to Tom. She wanted to ask Dominique Henry for her job back, but she couldn’t bring herself to do either of those things, so she showered, got dressed and went for a walk, passing Mr and Mrs Muller on the stairs, down the wide steep steps from Chalet Stern to the path and back into the village to get ingredients to make the Harringtons a Sunday roast. Emme made the best Yorkshire puddings, and coming home to a full roast dinner might help Lexy Harrington calm down, she seemed so jittery and uptight on Friday night.
It would also help soak up Emme’s hangover.
She returned to the supermarket down the side street, and the first person she saw was Tiago, unpacking boxes of grapes in the fruit and veg aisle, wearing an orange T-shirt with Migros written on it. She had forgotten he worked here as well as a hotel. Poor guy must be shattered, she thought.
‘Hey,’ she said, gently nudging his arm with hers.
Tiago turned around, dark, expressive eyes lifting.
‘Oh hi, how are you?’ his Portuguese lilt was melodic and slow.
‘Yeah, pretty tired, thanks. But –’ she looked around and winced for him. ‘Poor you, how’s your head?’
Tiago shrugged genially.
‘I’m OK.’
‘Great night last night!’ Emme said. ‘Thanks for getting me home.’
Tiago nodded, and continued to unpack plastic boxes of grapes.
‘No problem.’
‘Where did Cat disappear to? Did she have to work early?’
‘Yeah … Cat man …’ Tiago winced.
‘What? Did you two have an argument?’
Tiago looked puzzled.
‘Erm, no …’
‘Oh, are you two not a couple?’
‘Me and Cat?!’ Tiago laughed.
‘Oh, sorry.’
‘No, she definitely didn’t go home with me last night …’ Tiago said it with a raised eyebrow.
Emme looked at him guardedly.
‘The only friends with benefits thing we do is when I get her into the Steinherrhof for dinner or she gives me Kivvi leftovers.’
‘Oh right, sorry, I just assumed …’
‘No … she went off with … well, it doesn’t matter, none of my business. But she was chapada as we say in Portugal.’
Suddenly Emme felt flushed. She had a bad feeling.
‘She’ll be prepping dinner for the Kivvis very hung over right now. Naughty girl.’
What had happened? Emme didn’t really want to think about it. So she focused on her own dinner.
‘Speaking of which, can you point me in the direction of a chicken?’
‘Sadly I can point you in the direction of every fucking thing in this supermarket,’ Tiago said with a laugh, guiding her without touching her, delivering her to the fresh meat and poultry. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with, madam?’ He said it with a smile and a twinkle in his huge eyes.
‘No thanks Tiago, that’s great.’
Emme had time to kill before starting dinner, so she decided to stop for a coffee and read her book in an outdoor café she came across in a secluded little sun-trap terrace.
The terrace was framed by wooden logs with flower boxes placed on top, all bursting with stoic winter blooms in pretty pastels.
She thought reading in the fresh air might help soothe her hangover as she took The Secret History out of her bag and ordered a latte from the kindly waiter with a bushy beard.
As Emme waited, she closed her eyes, raised her chin, and invited the sun and sounds of birdsong to replenish her.
She could feel vitamin D working its magic in the salve of fresh November sunshine on her skin.
She’d started a new job in the prettiest place she’d ever been to in the world, and she hadn’t even had to work for the first two days.
Emme was just thinking about the call Cat had taken before hurrying off and wondered what drew her away so compellingly, when her rumination was interrupted by a South African accent.
Her eyes darted open and her hackles rose as she tracked him, Tristan Du Kok, the total dog, asking his companion, the blonde from the balcony, which table she wanted to sit at.
The woman wore large sunglasses and a prickly smile.
As she shrugged her shoulders her lustrous ponytail swung.
Tristan took a nearby table, his back to Emme as his girlfriend took off her thick jacket, her cream jumper revealing rosebud nipples.
The waiter came out with Emme’s coffee and greeted them as if they were royalty.
Tristan rose from the thick wooden bench and pressed the waiter’s palm, his checked trucker jacket rising up his broad back to reveal his Calvin Kleins above his jeans.
Emme couldn’t help but look at the sliver of golden skin at the small of Tristan’s back as he ran his fingers through his hair and chatted to the waiter about the quality of the snow the mountains had been gifted this week.
The woman was politely aloof, as if she were elegantly grieving, as if she knew about the other woman on the balcony.
She was clearly desperate to be left alone.
I would like to be left alone with him, Emme thought, surprising herself.
‘I’ll get your coffees,’ the waiter said amiably, as he brought Emme’s over to her. She willed Tristan not to turn around and see her, lest he think she was spying again.
Tristan Du Kok and the blonde talked in hushed tones Emme couldn’t hear as she tried not to watch him stroking her arm as if he were consoling her.
They looked like they were making up after an argument.
He certainly seemed less jocular than last night.
But the way his manly, tanned hand squeezed her arm tenderly filled Emme with a misplaced jealousy, reminiscent of all those feelings of Tom and Chrissy.
Only this was more intense, more reckless.
Nosier. Emme wanted to know everything about this couple, who were so beautiful.
She pictured them having make-up sex that was both impassioned and languid.
After not being able to focus on her book, nor able to hear the quiet conversation, Emme finished her coffee, left a five-franc coin on the table and stood to leave.
She needed to get the roast in the oven before the Harringtons could put up a resistance to her gesture.
It would certainly ease her guilt at having a wobble this morning.
Of wondering how she might stick it out and not cut and run.
Except she realised then that something else could keep her in Kristalldorf.
Emme picked up her groceries bag and walked past the couple, hoping he wouldn’t see her.
‘Hey,’ Tristan said, almost saluting Emme, clearly recognising her from last night. The blonde looked disinterested and sad.
Urgh.
Emme felt equal parts irked and thrilled, but did what everyone else seemed to do in this town.
‘Hey,’ she replied, not quite smiling, before walking away, cringing about her embarrassing coat, fully aware that Tristan’s eyes were on her ass.