Chapter Nine #3
Nate nodded, letting Lucy hold his other hand tightly in hers. He was freezing.
‘Tell me what’s real right now,’ she said softly. She’d done this many times with Leo as a teenager, grounding him in what he could see and hear and smell and touch, and not the terrifying potential outcomes that fought for space in his head.
Nate opened his eyes and looked at her. ‘I can’t—’
‘Yes, you can,’ said Lucy gently. ‘Come on. Tell me what’s real.’
‘OK,’ said Nate with a deep breath, and Lucy knew it wasn’t the first time he’d done this exercise either. ‘This bar. This . . . cushion I’m sitting on, and the wooden bench underneath, and the table, and the box for the board game. And two empty wine glasses.’
‘Good,’ said Lucy. ‘What else?’
‘This sweatshirt I’m wearing, and my hands, which are cold.
’ He held out his other shaking hand, and Lucy pressed them both between hers, gently massaging them to get the blood flowing.
Nate said nothing for a moment, his gaze fixed on her fingers.
Lucy tried to tune in to what was happening in his head, and hoped this was helping.
‘Keep going,’ she said.
Nate took another deep breath. ‘It smells of pizza and woodsmoke and pine in here. And you’re definitely real.’ He smiled softly, and Lucy felt herself blush from the intensity of his gaze. ‘You haven’t brushed your hair today, and you don’t have any make-up on. You have very green eyes, though.’
‘No time for hair and make-up this morning,’ laughed Lucy, loosening her grip on his hands but not letting go. ‘Does that feel any better? We can carry on?’
‘Stay there for a minute,’ said Nate, closing his eyes and taking a few slow and deep breaths. Lucy said nothing for a while, just watched him breathe as the blood started to flow back into his fingers and the colour returned to his cheeks. ‘Thank you,’ he said weakly. ‘That helped a lot.’
‘Andrea, sing a different one,’ said Gunther, as the singer dragged out the final notes in a tortured, angsty fashion.
Her partner joined her at the keyboard and leaned over to mutter something, which prompted a look of grim acceptance from Andrea.
She wore a long, floaty green dress and biker boots, a look that was more Tori Amos or Joni Mitchell than the Bee Gees.
The keyboard struck up a jaunty tune and Andrea started to sing again.
‘ “Stayin’ Alive”? In an avalanche situation? Really?’ whispered Lucy.
‘Are you some kind of Bee Gees expert?’ asked Nate, his mouth twitching into a smile.
‘NO,’ laughed Lucy, folding her arms defensively.
‘Well, not deliberately. My dad was a big fan when I was a kid.’ She pulled a what the fuck is this?
face at one of the tall men at the next table, who was watching the impromptu gig with wide eyes and an open mouth.
He nudged his friend and they both came over to Lucy and Nate’s booth, joining in with the surreptitious giggling.
They were a little younger than Lucy and Nate, maybe in their late twenties, and wholesomely good-looking.
‘We should introduce ourselves,’ said the shorter of the two men. ‘Since we’re stuck here together with the Alpine Bee Gees. I am Willem, and this is Alexander. We’re both from Amsterdam.’
‘Ahh, you’re like royalty,’ said Nate, shaking their hands. ‘I’m Nate.’
‘We like to think so,’ said Willem, clearly delighted. ‘In fact, Alex is actually a baron.’
‘I’m sorry, what?’ asked Lucy, looking at all three of them.
‘Oh,’ said Nate, blinking at Lucy. ‘Um, Willem-Alexander is the name of the Dutch king.’
‘Really?’ said Lucy, who had never heard of Willem-Alexander, mostly because she was only now discovering that the Netherlands HAD a king. ‘How would you know that?’
Another booming, teeth-rattling crack, another rumble, and the whole building started shaking again.
Nate grabbed Lucy’s hand as Andrea stopped singing and they all froze once again, and for a moment Lucy imagined the whole mountain collapsing in on itself like a house of cards and sweeping them away on a tumbling tide of snow.
She looked at Nate, who was watching Gunther give Monica a worried glance as the glasses rattled against each other on the rack above their heads.
If Gunther’s not happy, thought Lucy, this is very bad news.
After what seemed like an age but was probably less than ten seconds, the rumbling stopped and everything was silent again, apart from the merry crackling of the wood burner. Nobody said anything for a moment, until the silence was interrupted by Lucy’s phone buzzing.
‘Who’s that?’ said Nate. ‘Is it Sasha?’ He grabbed her phone and glanced at the notification, then quickly handed it back with a mumble of ‘Right. Not Sasha. Sorry.’
Lucy shook her head in confusion, then looked at her phone. It was a message from Marco, that read At a very dull insurance seminar, would much rather have my face between your incredible legs. ?Cómo estás, preciosa?
Oh crap, thought Lucy, squirming with embarrassment as Nate fiddled with his beer mat, his cheeks scarlet. Nate definitely didn’t need to see that.