Chapter 7 #2
It was a small family-run chocolaterie an hour’s journey outside London that changed her world.
She was offered an apprenticeship and swapped experimenting in the kitchen of her flat for hands-on training and working with much higher volumes of products than before.
She was guided in techniques from tempering and moulding to decorating, and she had the drive to succeed that scored her a permanent job with them that she’d had right up until she found another position closer to her flat.
That job as a chocolatier had been hers until she met Grant and was introduced to The Cocoa Cupboard.
In hindsight, maybe she should’ve stayed where she was and worked her way up the ranks. If she had, she might still have a job.
She thanked the assistant at the chocolate shop and buttoned up her coat again.
As she left the shop, light flakes of snow settled on her shoulders.
She’d checked the weather app – it was snowing properly in Winterbruck like the rest of the Swiss Alps – but here in the city the weather was just getting started with the hint of the real winter that Switzerland could bring.
She carried on walking. She hadn’t been to Bern in years and not walked around it quite as much as she was doing now since she was a kid.
She remembered snippets of information though, like the fact that it contained a hundred fountains.
Or was it more than a hundred? She wasn’t sure.
But she was certain that she’d seen the fountain in front of her – the Kindlifresserbrunnen, the ‘Child Eater Fountain’.
She drew in a breath. She and Chrissie had hated this fountain.
When they first came over to Switzerland it was for a visit well before they knew they were moving here, before their dad left the army.
Chrissie was nine years old, Meg was eleven, and they’d been allowed to wander off for a while, so they’d gone fountain-spotting.
Meg remembered it well now, their smiling faces at their newfound freedom for an hour or so, until they came to this fountain of an ogre eating a baby and holding others that were clearly about to meet the same fate.
That had been the end of fountain spotting for Meg and Chrissie.
A young boy had been sobbing his heart out in the arms of his dad and the girls had looked at the ugly fountain and wondered who on earth thought it was a good idea to put it there in the first place.
They’d gone for hot chocolate after that, and they’d told their parents all about the horrible fountain that no child should ever have to see.
She found a café for something to eat. Fondue was on the menu but as much as she loved cheese fondue, she’d wait for her mum’s. There was nothing quite like it.
She ordered a croissant and a creamy cappuccino.
The croissant was a delight, soft and fluffy, buttery, and so good that she ordered another.
She’d always had a sweet tooth; she got that from her mum, who loved to bake.
As girls, she and Chrissie had loved whatever delights were served up, although Meg started to put on weight as a teenager, gaining puppy fat she hated and subsequently got teased about.
The girls at school had piled that teasing on top of the bitchy comments about her bad grades and those mean girls had stayed in her head almost as much as the sister she’d fallen out with.
Sometimes she wished she could send those mean girls a photograph of her now, looking much slimmer and healthier, not that she was the latter at the moment with her stress levels.
She finished her time exploring at the Kirchenfeldbrücke, the bridge that spanned the Aare River and had a fantastic view of the city, before it was time to leave Bern behind and take the train to Winterbruck.
The train trundled along and took her through wintry scenes she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
She’d been too busy to visit at Christmas after she started as lead chocolatier at The Cocoa Cupboard, but right now she wondered how she’d been able to resist coming here in these colder months.
It was beautiful. Peaceful, magnificent, a wonderland.
When they arrived in Winterbruck she emerged from the station, but instead of going over to the taxi rank she found herself walking closer to the main street.
Dusk was almost upon them. Lights in shop doorways and Christmas decorations around windows and the edges of awnings added to the seasonal joy, and it was difficult to feel anything other than happy in the moment.
It was the same feeling she got when she went to see the London Christmas lights, a sense of familiarity, of belonging.
It felt at odds with how she usually felt when she came to the Swiss Alps.
She was always happy to be here but this time it felt strangely like coming home.
And it was the first time that had happened.
Perhaps it was her emotional state that had triggered it.
She got in a taxi and the driver, with perfect English, understood her request to slow when they went past the chocolate shop that had started her whole dream career.
‘Are you wanting gifts?’ He drew up next to the shop.
‘Oh no, I’m sorry, I just wanted to take a quick look.’
He didn’t seem bothered – a London cabbie might have been with her sentimental request – and he even talked more about the shop. With a thick accent he explained, ‘That shop has been there since I was a boy.’ He chuckled. ‘A very long time ago.’
‘You should try the sour cherry-infused dark chocolate, if they still have it.’
Her remark induced a full belly laugh and he patted his tummy. ‘They still have it. Don’t you worry.’
They passed someone dressed as Father Christmas – she was sure they called him Samichlaus here in Switzerland – ringing a bell and collecting money by the looks of things.
A group of kids huddled together as they looked at a roadside nativity.
The hotel at the end of the street that ran right through the town looked warm and inviting, and soon they were onto the quieter roads.
They passed more housing rather than shops and within a few minutes they pulled up at the chalet.
The driver left her to it and as she picked up her luggage, she immediately noticed her mum’s wreath on the front door.
Just like in the picture she’d emailed. It had an ice-blue theme this year and, as usual, it was beautiful.
A wreath was something Meg missed having living in a flat.
She could put one on her door, of course, but not many people would get to see it and it would feel a bit redundant in the stark hallway lighting rather than outside in the dark and the cold.
The front door to the chalet flew open – naturally, her parents rarely let guests arrive without a welcoming committee – and she felt tears well in her eyes at the sight of her dad with his open arms. She dropped her luggage and ran the rest of the way down the nicely cleared path.
‘Welcome home, my Meg.’ He hugged her tightly.
He always said those words as if it was an apology for all the years she’d never felt like they really had a permanent one.
And she never corrected him. She’d held a lot of teenage anger and sadness that had shaped her life.
But at the end of the day, she knew he’d always done his best.
‘I’ll get them,’ she said before he could grab the luggage, and once she was inside her mum appeared, arms open much like her dad’s had been.
It felt so good to be here. So good it was almost a shock.
It was always nice, but this time was different.
She was different. Things in her world had been upended.
‘Grumps… Grumps,’ came a voice from up the stairs.
She frowned. ‘Who’s that?’
Her parents looked at one another.
And then it dawned. There was only one person who called her dad by that name.
Sarah. The niece she barely knew.
Which meant that Chrissie might well be the next person to come down the stairs. Suddenly this felt a whole lot worse than losing her job. Losing her sister had been the worst thing that ever happened to her, and a confrontation right now would have the power to absolutely break her.