Chapter 11
11
‘This way.’ He points up a flight of steps to what must be an apartment block. It’s still chalet style, but newer than some of the other buildings. With small wooden balconies covered in snow, and shutters, it doesn’t look out of place.
‘This is where you live?’ I say, taking hold of the banister with one hand.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Why?’
‘I just had you down as living somewhere much more … modern. In the city, I suppose.’
He stops at the wooden door and unlocks it, brushing away the snow with his foot.
‘I have somewhere else. I have my offices and shop in the city. But at the moment I need to be out here. Where I can think,’ he says. ‘Where I have peace, and near my workshop.’ He pushes open the door into the warm apartment.
‘Please.’ He holds open the door and I step inside. I’m immediately hit by a warm chocolate smell and cosiness. The apartment has dark blue walls and white sheepskin on the back of the sofas in front of the woodburning stove. On the white table there is an open computer, plugged in, with a notebook to one side, pages of handwritten notes and a pair of glasses.
‘I’m sorry about your call,’ I say, ‘your meeting, whatever it was.’
‘It’s okay. I’ll message them and say I’ve been delayed.’ He pulls out his phone and types. A message pings straight back but he doesn’t answer it and puts his phone on the kitchen work surface.
‘Let’s get you warm. I’ll show you the shower.’ He holds out an arm in the direction of the bathroom.
I glance around the smart stylish apartment. ‘And your workshop is here?’ I ask. He has his head in a cupboard and is pulling out towels as I’m shivering, the damp of the snow seeping through my whites and chilling me to the bone. My shoulder is now throbbing.
‘No. I have a workshop at the chocolate school.’
His phone pings again and he ignores it, but seems a little agitated.
‘Take your call if you need to. I can sort myself out,’ I say, reaching for the towels he’s handing me. He pushes his dark hair off his face, but it falls back again.
He grabs the phone, looks at it and puts it face down on the work surface. ‘It’s fine. Just … an update. On my new range,’ he says, and points towards the bathroom door again.
I walk towards it. ‘It must be very exciting,’ I say, through chattering teeth, seemingly making conversation, although I have no idea why. I just need to shower, get warm and go back to the chalet.
‘Erm, yes. Now, I’ll get you some painkillers for your shoulder. Or do you want to see a medic? Do you think something might be broken?’
‘It’s sore, but just bruised. A bit like my dignity,’ I add, under my breath. ‘Look,’ I stop in the bathroom doorway, ‘I’m so sorry about running after you like that.’
He holds up a hand, and drops his head so his curls bounce around. ‘Don’t worry. Sometimes it’s hard to take criticism. But occasionally it makes us dig deeper and do better.’ He looks up at me. ‘If that’s what you want. It’s either a way out or it spurs you forwards.’ He holds my gaze and I’m rooted to the spot.
‘Now, shower and I will make you a hot drink,’ he instructs and then, a little more unsure and with a tinge of embarrassment, says, ‘Um, are you okay? I mean … do you need any help?’ He flaps a hand at my shoulder.
‘I’m fine,’ I say quickly, hoping to spare his blushes and mine.
I shut the wooden door, a single towelling dressing-gown hanging on the back. I slowly remove my chef’s whites, my shoulder making me wince, but I don’t think anything is broken. Instead of undoing my bra, I slip off the shoulder straps and roll it down, until it gets to my stomach, where I pull the fastening around to my stomach and manage to undo it with one hand. Finally stripped off and freezing, despite the warmth from the heated towel rail and the underfloor heating, I turn on the shower, wait for a moment, then step into the steaming water, my skin tingling with relief.
Standing in his shower, surrounded by his body wash, shampoo and freshly laundered towels, it’s as if in some way I’m naked with him and him with me as I rub his body wash over myself, smelling the pine and eucalyptus that I’d detected, mingled with the chocolate, while I was wrapped in his coat. Despite the warmth of the shower, I shiver again, this time with a surprising zip of excitement around my body. The hot water is fabulous, and I hold my face to it, then look out of the window and over the rooftops to the mountains beyond.
Dried and dressed in a pile of clothes he placed just inside the door – he knocked and slid them through a crack – I tentatively leave the bathroom and walk into the living room, which is warm and sweet-smelling, like a welcome hug. The wood-burning stove is lit, orange flames leaping up the chimney, and I head straight to the big windows, with the small wooden balcony. Outside, it continues to snow.
He steps out from around the kitchen counter and hands me a steaming cup, which I take with both hands, loving the warmth and almost forgetting the ache in my shoulder. ‘Tell me if that is strong enough for you,’ he says.
I lift it to my lips, blow, then sip and cough. There’s brandy in it!
‘Too strong?’
‘No.’ I smile. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘That’s how I drink it. All the time. Hot, strong, dark and sweet. Probably like the Aztecs. Although they would have added a hint of chilli to give them fire in their bellies before going into battle,’ he tells me. ‘And I don’t always add brandy.’ He smiles. ‘Please, have a seat.’
I sit opposite him on the sofa, the window behind him with the snow steadily falling in the glow of the streetlights. ‘I read about the Aztecs drinking hot chocolate before battle.’
‘Good!’ He sips his own drink, his legs crossed as he leans back on the comfy cushions. ‘So you’re keen to learn?’
‘That’s why I went for chilli today. Although you didn’t seem impressed.’
He says nothing, blowing on his drink and sipping as I watch the snow fall behind him, not feeling any sense of urgency to rush away. Then he says, ‘Tell me, why chocolate?’
I take a moment to think, then say, ‘ Phhffff. To be honest, I don’t know. I came out here … It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Chocolate reminds me of feeling happy, that no matter how rubbish things were at home, a selection box could still say, “I love you.”’
He nods, looking into the fire, and I carry on: ‘Sorry, I don’t know where that came from.’
He still says nothing.
‘My mother used to buy me one every year. It reminded me that she was thinking about me, even if she didn’t show it.’ I wonder if the fall or the brandy is making me talk. But suddenly, like a floodgate opening, I can’t stop. ‘I’ve always loved chocolate. It’s there when I’m happy, when I’m sad, sharing it with friends, sending it to friends when they need cheering up.’ I sip the hot chocolate. ‘It’s the constant in my life, I suppose.’ I wonder if I sound ridiculous. ‘I came to be with my partner. We hadn’t been seeing each other long and he was offered a job here. We came to try to make a go of things. I thought the chocolate course would help me immerse myself in the country.’ I shake my head. ‘See? I’m always drawn back to chocolate to make me feel safe.’
‘And now?’ he asks.
‘Let’s just say none of this has been a good idea. And by the sound of it, I don’t have a story to tell in my signature box of chocolates.’
He chews his bottom lip. I finish my hot chocolate and am feeling much warmer, even invigorated by it.
‘We all have a story to tell, we just have to find it,’ he says, finishing his drink and putting the mug back on its matching saucer on the table.
‘Well, mine is hiding itself pretty well. I mean, you called my filling bland today! What does that say about me?’
I’m still not quite as over it as I’d thought, and the brandy may be emboldening me. It’s time I was going. I stand stiffly and get ready to leave. ‘But thank you for this. I’ll bring back the clothes.’ I gesture to the joggers and sweatshirt and suddenly remember I’m without my bra, too damp to put on again. It feels strange, daring almost. Not a word I would use to describe myself, but right now, that’s how I feel.
He holds up a hand. ‘It’s no problem, and as for the chocolate, it was just my opinion.’
He stands too. I feel indignant all over again. ‘I tasted and tasted it! I used chilli!’
‘Everyone does when they start out. It’s not a new thing. They all think they’ve discovered it.’ He shrugs.
‘But it can’t have been bland.’
He takes a deep breath. ‘If it doesn’t excite the person eating the chocolate, it’s bland, no matter how much chilli you put in. It has to be an experience.’
I consider what he’s saying.
‘Look,’ he goes on, ‘you need to learn to use your senses. Follow me.’ He leads me to the kitchen. Out of a cupboard he pulls a box of chocolates. ‘This is my first signature box. It’s still produced at the workshop where my offices are based. My team make it and sell it. When it first hit the shelves, it had to make an impact. Everything was relying on it. If I was going to make it as a master chocolatier I couldn’t just creep onto the stage. I had to make a boom!’ His hands splay into a firework’s burst of stars, making me smile. He lifts the lid from the box and my eyes rove around them, looking to see which I’d eat first. My mouth waters.
‘This was my first chocolate.’ He lifts it from the box and holds it out to me. ‘Have you ever tried a Gabriel Hartmann chocolate?’
I shake my head.
‘You have good ideas, to come up with the combination you did today, but you must use all of your senses.’
‘I did! I tasted it so many times!’ I protest. I wish I could just close my mouth and listen.
‘Look at this one. How does it look? Do you like the look of it?’
I nod.
‘Each one must be a miniature work of art,’ he says. ‘First, we eat with our eyes. Does it shine?’
The shine on the chocolate is beautiful and that’s down to the tempering I’ve learned about.
‘Then the smell.’ He encourages me to hold the chocolate to my nose. The smell of deep, dark, rich chocolate is mouth-wateringly good.
‘What about the snap?’
I put the chocolate, still caressing my senses with its rich scent, into my mouth and hold it between my teeth. I bite. It snaps.
He smiles. ‘Good. And now, tell me, how does it feel in your mouth?’
I let it sit on my tongue.
‘Do you have to use your teeth to chew, or does it just dissolve?’
I can’t help but slowly close my eyes as the chocolate and its big bold flavours reach into the far corners of my mouth. Slowly I open my eyes to see him looking at me, watching my reactions.
‘And finally,’ he says, his voice low and deep, ‘how does the chocolate make you feel? Where does it take you when you bite into it? It’s not about the combination of flavours, it’s about how they work together, how this makes you feel.’
I suddenly feel a shiver of excitement all over, bigger than before, letting the last of the chocolate slide down my throat.
‘It’s amazing!’ I say, and he smiles a little bashfully. ‘Really, it’s incredible.’ I can’t even put into words how good that chocolate was.
‘I feel really happy!’ I laugh, unable to find the right words. ‘I feel like I’m at the start of an adventure. I’m excited. Nervous too. But as if I want to leap into the unknown, grab life and stay on board for the ride.’
He laughs, a deep sound, as inviting as the chocolate. ‘Good! That is exactly what I would like you to feel. Take the chocolates.’ He replaces the lid, with ‘Gabriel Hartmann’ in gold on it, and a distinctive burgundy swirl, and holds out the box to me. ‘Try each one. Let me know what you think. Each one, where does it take you? Then, think about your own experiences and your happy place.’
I look at the box in my hands. ‘I’m not sure I have one.’
‘Clara. It is Clara, isn’t it?’
I nod.
‘What are you doing here? I mean, what are you really doing here?’
‘I told you, I love chocolate. I want to learn more,’ I say honestly.
‘I can teach you how to make chocolate, but I can’t teach you how to be a master chocolatier. It’s something you just … feel. You have to find out what makes you feel.’
I find myself blushing, and feel as if I’m on the back foot. ‘What about you? You travel everywhere, don’t you? Isn’t that what Madame Pichon said? What pulls you back here?’
‘I haven’t brought out a signature range in a while … To be honest, I need the money. I have staff to pay, a farm to keep going.’ He jerks a thumb across the hillside. ‘It’s expensive.’
‘A farm?’
He nods. ‘Near here.’ He juts his chin in the direction of the mountains opposite.
‘So it’s not your love of chocolate that drives you?’
He gives another small laugh. ‘It used to be. But right now, it’s the pay cheque.’
‘So this is where you’re from?’
‘Noeletta Pichon, Jacques and I were all students here many years ago.’
‘So you came back to where it all began.’ I’m intrigued.
‘My past. I suppose I did. I needed … to press reset on my career.’
‘And have you?’
‘Not yet. And not everyone is happy to see me back.’
‘Well, Noeletta certainly seems to be,’ I tease.
He gives another deep laugh. ‘Anyway, enough … You should get back before the others wonder what’s happened to you,’ he says, bringing the conversation to an end.
‘Yes … I should go,’ I say, feeling far more comfortable than I should in this man’s apartment, without my bra.
‘I’ll walk you back. Don’t want you falling on the way!’ I like that he’s teasing me now. ‘Here, borrow a coat.’ He lifts one from the peg beside the door. ‘Clara, if this is what you want, keep going. But, remember, the way to find the best flavours is to feel them.’
‘Like you did?’
He looks at me, then gives a short, but firm nod and says no more.
We walk back up the main street towards the student chalet.
‘I loved this town when I was a student here. We gathered in there.’ He points to a decorated and now lit bar, with music playing and après -skiers already gathering after a day on the slopes, ready for a night of partying.
‘They still do!’ I’m expecting to see the others on the course already there and scan the big terrace area.
‘And that place does the best raclette !’ He points to a little restaurant with a snowy awning and a firepit outside. ‘And it has the best views in the town.’
‘Do you come from here, originally?’
He nods. ‘Not far. My family’s farm is here, but my parents have died. I grew up around the cows that made the milk for the chocolate company and now for me. That’s how I fell into the chocolate world. We were part of the process.’
‘Like Fleur.’
He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. ‘And Sébastien. His parents own another big chocolate company in this region. Chocolate runs through our veins here, like the rivers from the mountains.’
‘But you left the area?’
‘I did.’
The snow falls steadily in the shafts of gold from the streetlights, and the strings of coloured bulbs strung across the main street are now welcoming the start of Christmas.
‘It’s a big world out there. I spent a lot of time in the US. I get invited to lots of different countries. Residencies, exhibitions. The States seemed a good place to base myself.’
‘And now you’re back.’
‘And now I’m back … for a while.’
‘And you’re moving on again?’
‘I am.’
Clearly he has planned what he’ll move on to next. Right now, I have no idea what my future holds. Or even tomorrow for that matter. I need to create another chocolate. And I have no idea what it will be, as we reach the student chalet. We stop. The snow settles on my nose and cheeks. He looks up at the building. No Christmas lights on here.
‘I wish I could be like the others. They all have a story to tell. I don’t. I’m just boring Clara Mackenzie from Human Resources. I don’t have any big secrets to share with the world.’
‘And why did you come to Switzerland? Why here?’
‘I took a leap of faith. I wanted to be something different from boring Clara Mackenzie, so when my …’ I struggle ‘… boyfriend was offered a job here we decided to go for it. Take the leap of faith.’
‘Well, that’s exciting.’
‘It didn’t work out. Well, it’s not going well. Hence I’m living here.’
‘I think it took great bravery to come here. I admire you,’ he says, ‘but the chocolate world can be brutal. Just … be careful.’ He gestures at the lively house, music playing, no shutters closed. ‘Sometimes things, like chocolate, are not always what you think they’ll be.’
I wonder what he means and can’t help but add, ‘I know … Sometimes what you think will blow someone away ends up bland.’ Like Daniel, a voice says in my head. The promise of our life together in Switzerland has fizzled out to a disappointing end.
He smiles. ‘Just be careful. The chocolate world isn’t always as sweet as we’d like it to be.’
With that, he turns away, and I watch as he pulls up the collar on his coat and starts to walk back down the main street, the scent of woodsmoke in the air. I wonder if it was me he was talking about or his own life. He raises a hand. ‘Take care, Clara.’
‘And you, Gabriel.’ I don’t know what lies in the future for either of us but, just for a moment, I feel we’re on the same side.