Chapter Seven
Bella and Harry hadn’t had a chance to get a word in while their mother was doing the tour, and Emme had wanted to ask them a ton of questions.
‘The lift’s very fast.’
‘It’s a new build, just before the pandemic.’
‘I mean, no one buys Siberian larch now because of, you know, so this is Swiss pine and proud!’
‘The doors are oak of course …’
As they walked through the heavy – oak – front door, Emme marvelled at the view through the glass windows of the landing area that led down the side of the chalet. Through it the village twinkled under snow and lights, clouds danced across the rising moon.
‘It’s beautiful!’ Emme gasped.
‘Oh it’s even better from our balconies, isn’t it children?’
Harry and Bella were still tugging on their father’s jacket, asking him what he’d brought them back from the city this weekend.
‘Did you get me Lego, Papa?’ Harry asked. His Paddington bear was long since squashed into Lexy’s bag, although Bella still clutched hers.
‘Daddy, will you be able to see my show?’ Bella pleaded. ‘It’s next month. In Thun!’
Lexy was still focused on the tour, not allowing distractions to derail her.
‘Now there are two types of people in Kristalldorf – those who leave their doors unlocked and those who have digital entries – some people are less protective of their property …’
‘Crime is non-existent in Kristalldorf,’ Bill said, as if he were the superhero responsible.
‘Well, that’s not true!’ Lexy snapped, loadedly.
Bill looked flustered as a strained unspoken tension rose and Emme looked from husband to wife, wondering what the issue was.
‘The point is, no one uses keys …’ Lexy said, punching a number into a digital keypad below a video screen. A gem on her right hand sparkled pink.
‘The code is 1212,’ she said. ‘Our wedding anniversary …’ Emme thought that was a bit rudimentary; easy to crack. Lexy must have read her mind.
‘But it works on facial recognition too. And there is video recording on this door … no sound, but it stores images in the event history for thirty days,’ her face dropped, as she gave her husband a flustered sideways glance.
Emme marvelled at the tech. The double lock on her flat door in Balham was so archaic it only worked if she leaned into the door at a very precise angle.
‘Is there not video entry on the downstairs door?’ Emme asked.
‘No. Privacy laws or something,’ Lexy muttered, and hastily rearranged her features to a smile.
‘But you type in 4-1212 there. Our apartment number followed by our code. We’ll get your face scanned when you’ve unpacked and I’ll set you up with the BUZZ app on your phone.
Bill’s not interested but I’ll need you to keep track of my parcels. ’
The thick door swung open onto an enormous home that just happened to cover one floor – the top floor.
The rich wood décor was lifted by light and large open spaces, filled with plump taupe sofas scattered with textured cushions of fawn, ecru and mushroom.
Sheepskin blankets hung over the sofa backs and luxurious handwoven rugs sat under the modern coffee table.
The expansive living room was adorned with exposed beams, and huge floor-to-ceiling windows framed panoramic views of snow-kissed evergreens, just about visible in the valley moonlight.
The scents of pine and aged timber filled Emme’s senses.
Lexy, Bill and the children kicked off their shoes and put them in a sleek cupboard to the right of the door, and Emme followed suit before following Lexy into the main living space.
‘Swiss engineering,’ Lexy cooed as she pressed the button on a remote control, and one of the window panels slid open, creating a seamless segue between the opulent interior and the breathtaking landscape. ‘The indoor/outdoor flow here is very well thought out.’
‘Jesus, woman, you’re letting in an Arctic blast!’ Bill snapped. Emme didn’t like the way Bill spoke to his wife, as an icy waft made the atmosphere even tenser.
‘Relax, Bill,’ Lexy said through an acid smile. ‘It always takes Bill a few hours to adjust to the temperature being ten degrees colder up the mountain,’ Lexy derided. She didn’t speak to him that nicely either, but Lexy was in full showing-off mode. And the sliding panoramic window was impressive.
‘Erm, hands!’ Lexy commanded in a singsong voice. The children washed them at the slick kitchen sink then nimbly escaped to their bedrooms. Bill ambled off to the fridge to have a look at its contents.
Lexy closed the sliding door, but stopped short of drawing the cream curtains. The twinkling lights of the view were too impressive to shroud.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Emme said.
Lexy tapped a sensor pad on the sidewall triggering ambient lighting to cast an intimate glow over the room.
‘Gustav, turn on the fire.’
Emme looked around – who was Gustav?
A small light glowed orange on the sideboard, then an electric fire roared into life.
‘Gustav. He’s our Alexa.’
Emme’s eyes widened. It was certainly more impressive than the Victorian plumbing and rattling radiators back home.
Bill wheeled Emme’s suitcase down a wide hallway, Lexy and Emme following.
Lexy pointed out the children’s bedrooms, a family bathroom with a white free-standing bath sitting atop dark slate tiles, brushed nickel hardware and a thick grey bubble mat.
Emme’s guest room was modern yet cosy, without a trace of the nanny who had left just days before.
Bill deposited Emme’s case in her room and swiftly left.
‘That’s our office, and that’s our room round the corner …’ Lexy said, but didn’t go as far to show Emme somewhere that was obviously out of bounds.
‘Wonderful!’
As they walked back down the hallway, Emme poked her head around Bella’s bedroom door.
‘Want to show me your room?’ she asked.
Bella shook her head.
‘No,’ she whispered, looking down at her plastic pony.
‘Bells!’ Lexy admonished, who was lingering over Emme’s shoulder.
‘That’s OK,’ Emme said. She admired a girl with boundaries.
‘Come on, everyone must be hungry …’ Lexy flapped, as they headed back to the large open-plan kitchen and dining room.
Now she mentioned it, Emme had noticed the faint smell of fried food and spices emanating from the kitchen area. On top of a thick, engineered wood worktop stood a stack of cardboard boxes with KK embossed on them in a silver circle.
‘Our maid delivered dinner,’ Lexy said. She might look like a Stepford Wife but Alexia Harrington didn’t cook.
Fortunately she didn’t expect her nanny to either.
She had said in the Zoom interview that cooking duties would be limited to breakfasts, packed lunches and the odd heated flammkuchen or pizza after school because Lexy was a supporter of the KristallKit dinner service that most people in Kristalldorf without a live-in chef subscribed to.
Lexy selflessly supported KristallKit because she had done the PR for the brand during its launch phase, and its owner, Samuel Sommar, one of Kristalldorf’s most prolific and dashing businessmen, was someone Lexy would do anything to stay in with.
KristallKit was the first client of Lexy’s when she decided to go back into PR and set up her own business from the Alps.
She carefully opened a corner of one of the boxes.
‘Ooh, Thai,’ she said, with a self-satisfied smile.
Emme helped Lexy carry the boxes to a wood-and-steel dining table, already set by their maid before she had left for the evening.
Emme placed the boxes in the centre, among the floral centrepieces and plates without cutlery, that made the room look all rather staged.