Chapter 13
MEG
With only a week to go until Christmas, Meg woke up to the sound of laughter coming from outside.
She went over to the window and looked down to see Sarah with Jonathan.
Rather than clearing the paths, they were having a snowball fight.
Jonathan almost lost his footing trying to dodge Sarah’s snowball, and it was good to see Sarah giving as good as she got.
The way she threw snowballs reminded Meg of Chrissie, who’d had the sort of throw that somehow had more power than you’d think and never seemed to miss.
They both used trees for cover, ducking to escape a good aim, and even more amusing was the way they stopped as people passed by to wave and say hello.
Meg had spent more time with Sarah in the last few days than she’d spent with her niece since the day she was born.
She’d thought she’d come here and feel miserable as she faced the fact she’d lost her dream job and had yet another failure to chalk up against her name, but instead she was having a good time.
She’d missed out on so much – twenty years of having her niece in her life, almost three decades without her sister, and her heart yearned to claw that time back. But she couldn’t. Not ever.
Yesterday, Meg had been looking in her mum’s wardrobe for a spare jumper as hers were all in the wash, and she’d found an old shoebox filled with the letters and postcards she’d sent when she first moved to London.
She’d covered her mouth as she cried as quietly as she could when she read some of the lies she’d told her family, and herself – that everything was fantastic, that she’d been having the time of her life.
She’d been lost, that was the truth of it.
She’d thought she wanted to let loose, be wild, but she’d had a lucky escape from that flat and those people in the end.
She carried on watching Sarah and Jonathan. What would it have been like to see Sarah grow up? The last time she’d seen her she’d been dressed in a black velvet dress and polished shoes, a girl, not a woman, grieving for her dad and clinging to her mother’s side.
That day had been too much. She’d gone to the funeral in the vain hope she might be able to help somehow.
But Chrissie refused to even look at her.
At the wake Chrissie still didn’t look her way, so Meg had gone outside to get away from it all.
Heath, Anthony’s best man, had found her and kept her company for a while.
He’d handed her a cigarette, a habit he’d taken up since he left the RAF and tried to adjust to a different life, and although she wasn’t a smoker she’d taken the offering.
She listened to him talk about his best friend, how Anthony wasn’t far off retiring from the RAF so he could be at home with Chrissie and Sarah, and that had made things feel a whole lot worse.
When Heath began to cry, Meg had put an arm around him.
She’d kissed his cheek to make him feel better.
That kiss had turned into more, and before she knew it, they’d gone to his car and sought comfort in each other.
She’d felt terrible afterwards. What sort of person had sex in a car outside the house where a wake was underway?
Heath had passed her his hip flask before he went back inside, and she’d knocked back its entire contents to numb the pain that her sister, even after all these years, still didn’t want to know her. She’d changed, but Chrissie was never going to accept it. Not ever.
Meg went for a shower as the snowball fight outside came to a close, and by the time she was dressed, she heard voices drifting up the stairs. Her heart skipped a beat when she realised Jonathan was inside their chalet. He must’ve taken up the offer of breakfast today.
Over pancakes, Meg couldn’t help but sneak looks in Jonathan’s direction. She hoped she wasn’t being too obvious, although maybe she was giving it away, judging by the sneaky look Sarah gave her.
Most of the talk centred on Jonathan’s talents as a carpenter, which Meg could well imagine with those strong hands of his.
‘He made the coffee table,’ Astrid told Meg and Sarah, indicating the table that sat in the centre of the lounge.
‘I’d forgotten that,’ said Meg. It meant more now she knew the man responsible for it. ‘Wasn’t there some sort of disagreement about whether it should be varnished and whether the knots in the wood should be got rid of?’
Jonathan nodded. ‘Your mum wanted it perfect. Your dad thought imperfect was the way to go.’
‘Natural,’ Earl corrected. ‘Not imperfect.’
‘He got his way.’ Astrid laughed.
Sarah asked Jonathan, ‘Did you make the little stool in the laundry?’
His brow furrowed. ‘I don’t know, did I?’
‘Yes, he made that,’ her dad confirmed. ‘You’re a very talented young man.’
‘Talented perhaps, although I would never make such a bold claim. And young – not so much.’
‘You look like you’re around my age, fifty,’ Meg queried.
‘I’m a bit older – fifty-three.’
She puffed out her cheeks. ‘Much older.’ He laughed. She liked it when he did that.
‘Do you miss working?’ her mum asked Jonathan when talk fell back to his carpentry talents. ‘You’re always making things at your chalet. Is that enough for you?’
He scraped his last piece of pancake through some syrup.
‘Some days I miss working full time. But retiring early was a timing thing.’ He spoke more to Meg when he added, ‘Mum and Dad had gone and I really wanted to keep the chalet. I contemplated having it as a holiday house, but when I came here to clear it out, I realised I wanted to be here longer term. I had a carpentry business I owned and ran with a good mate and he bought me out.’
‘At least you’re still doing what you love,’ said Meg.
‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Do you still love what you do?’
‘Yes.’ Meg made sure she had a good mouthful of fruit so she could take her time should he ask more.
Her mum had already gone over to the sideboard and brought back the little basket, still filled with a good supply of the chocolates Meg had brought over.
The branded boxes, with The Cocoa Cupboard in white writing on a pink background, were so familiar that it hurt to see them.
That very same shade of pink had been torn down from the window dressings and the signage when the shop was sold, and now it was awaiting a new sign to cement the change.
‘You made these?’ Jonathan asked as he admired the packaged chocolates.
‘They’re so good,’ Sarah insisted. ‘The honeycomb crunchy bits are the best.’
‘Try some,’ Earl urged.
Meg smiled at Jonathan. ‘Be my guest. Honestly, I brought loads over with me.’
‘So where is this business of yours?’ Jonathan asked.
‘Camden, London,’ Meg said. She couldn’t very well not answer; that would be rude.
‘I go over to England now and again – my sister lives in Surrey with her husband and kids so I try to get over a couple of times a year. I could bring the kids into the shop. They love all things chocolate.’
To change the subject, Meg urged him to try the chocolate in front of him and when he did – and declared it the best he’d ever tasted – Meg didn’t miss another sneaky grin from Sarah as she smiled at the praise. Her niece was on to her.
Talk turned to some of the alterations Jonathan had made in his chalet, and he said he was ready to do some repainting.
Sarah was right on it. ‘I’d love to help while I’m here,’ she offered. ‘It’s all good experience.’
‘I’ll gladly take the help,’ said Jonathan. ‘But this is supposed to be a holiday for you.’
‘I don’t mind, I kind of love it.’
‘Well then, I’ll pay you.’
‘No way,’ said Sarah. ‘You help Grumps and Nanna all the time. No payment necessary.’
But Jonathan insisted harder. ‘I get paid in food, believe me.’
Sarah rolled her eyes, which made Meg smile; it was something Chrissie had done as a teenager whenever she got told off.
‘Fine,’ said Sarah, and held out her hand to Jonathan even though it was tricky with him sitting next to her at the table. ‘It’s a deal.’
Talk moved to paint colours and the DIY store just outside Winterbruck. And by the time Meg had finished clearing away the breakfast things with Grumps, Jonathan and Sarah had locked in an idea about colour schemes and when the work would start.
Jonathan left after coffee, and when Meg was telling her dad her plans to go to the Jungfraujoch, the Top of Europe, Sarah overheard.
‘I’d love to go with you,’ said Sarah. ‘I’ve never been.’
Meg knew she should say no because of Chrissie and how she’d feel if – or more likely when – she found out.
But she didn’t want to.
So she said, ‘I’m taking the train with the scenic route rather than the speedier one. The traditional route allows for more time to embrace the magnificence of the Swiss Alps.’
And that was how, just after lunch, she found herself leaving Winterbruck with her niece and boarding the Jungfraubahn – the train that would take them through the Jungfrau tunnel, which passed through the Eiger and Monch mountains to Europe’s highest railway station and the Jungfraujoch.
The scenic route was amazing. Both of them wore enormous sunglasses pulled down most of the time to protect their eyes from the glare of the sun reflecting off the pristine white ground as the train gathered speed. Meg couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so free and alive.
The train made a quick stop on the way up to their destination to allow passengers to step out into the cold and take in the endless view, the frozen alpine world they were in.
Sarah read some of the information boards, but they didn’t linger long and were already talking about hot chocolates to warm themselves up.
‘The Swiss Alps are incredible.’ Sarah sat in the seat next to Meg, and as the train began to move again, she asked, ‘Do you think anyone ever climbs these mountains?’