Page 25 of Snowed In with You

Lucy looked around at the room of distinctly un-panicked people. Everyone was either in shock, or not daring to move or make noise in case it triggered another avalanche. Either way, they were all frozen in their seats, waiting to see what might happen next. Lucy’s phone buzzed again, prompting a narrow-eyed glare from Nate. Probably Marco again, with more specific and anatomical suggestions about how Lucy might relieve the boredom of his insurance seminar. The only saving grace was that it hadn’t been one of Anthony’s dick pics; she’d never be able to look Nate in the eye again. She ignored the phone and focused on Gunther, wondering if the burning heat in her face would ever subside.

Gunther’s phone blared out a ringtone that sounded a lot like ‘Enter Sandman’ by Metallica, providing both welcome distraction and a frisson of worry about what the news from the village might be. They all sat in silence and listened hard as Gunther spoke intently to the person on the other end. The conversation was in German and Lucy couldn’t understand much, but Gunther was mostly listening with a grave expression, which definitely didn’t bode well.

‘OK, everybody, let’s talk together,’ he said, after he’d ended the call. Lucy and Nate shoved up so that Andrea and the keyboard player could squeeze into their booth, and Gunther, Monica and Chantal pulled up three extra chairs.

‘Can we do this in German?’ asked Gunther in English, looking first at the two Dutch men, who nodded happily, then more pointedly at Lucy and Nate. Lucy shook her head apologetically, having done Spanish at school. The basics she’d learned had been much enhanced by all the dirty words Marco had taught her.

‘Ja, kein problem,’ whispered Nate.

‘You speak German too?’ hissed Lucy.

Nate nodded. ‘Yeah. And Dutch and Spanish. ¿Cómo estás, Lucy?’ He gave her a deadpan stare, and Lucy blushed, wondering if now was a good time to mention that she had a shelf of awards for really impressive words written in English. Possibly the wrong audience, to be fair.

‘OK, then for the benefit of the English Fräulein, we will do this in English. Can everyone here speak good English?’

Everyone nodded, and Lucy caught a withering glare from both Chantal and the keyboard player from the band. She shrank further into the bench and quietly died all over again.

‘OK, I have spoken to the mountain safety people,’ said Gunther. ‘It is not safe for them to check the pistes tonight – it’s dark, the weather is still very bad, and there may be more avalanches. Nobody is hurt, and they know we are OK, so they will meet again in the morning.’

‘We’re staying here tonight?’ said Alex the Dutchman, his hand pressed against his chest in horror, clutching imaginary pearls.

‘Yes,’ said Gunther. ‘There is no other option.’

‘Just for one night?’ asked Willem. Before the avalanche, Lucy was pretty sure they were having a conversation about one of the two men being something to do with the Dutch royal family. A baron, maybe? She couldn’t remember the details now.

‘That, I cannot tell you,’ said Gunther, turning his palms upwards. ‘It will depend on the situation tomorrow. If the piste is clear and safe, Ulrich will come up with the bus, probably with some other big machines to help clear his way. But if the piste is blocked or there is still avalanche risk, it may take a little more time. A few more hours, maybe one more night.’

‘Can’t they send a helicopter to rescue us?’ asked Alex. Oh, hark at Baron von Princess, thought Lucy, rolling her eyes at Nate.

‘In this weather, most definitely not,’ said Gunther, shaking his head, then grinning broadly. ‘And also, my friend, you don’t need to be rescued. We are all safe here – we have firewood and food and water, and the Guntherhütte is not in the path of danger.’

‘Does anyone need anything?’ asked Monica. ‘For example, does anyone need to take urgent medication?’

Lucy briefly considered making up a chronic illness, so they’d scramble a rescue party led by hot Swiss mountain men and a pack of fluffy St Bernards. The look on Alex’s face suggested he was thinking the same thing, and Lucy wondered if he’d go with type 1 diabetes or something more obscure. But in the end everyone shook their heads regretfully.

‘Where do we sleep?’ asked Lucy, deciding it was time to address the elephant in the very small and uncomfortable room. All the surfaces in here were hard, apart from the upholstered booth seating, which were narrow semicircles with very thin cushions. Any sudden movements, and you’d either fall off or smack your head on the table.

‘We will squeeze in,’ said Gunther with a dismissive wave of his hand.

‘Squeeze in where? With who?’ replied Lucy.

‘It’s all fine, we will manage,’ shrugged Gunther breezily. ‘Tonight we have music and good food and drink, and by bedtime you will not mind whose bed you sleep in.’

‘I fucking will,’ hissed Lucy, catching the death stare Monica was throwing Gunther.

‘I will give you more information as soon as I can,’ said Gunther. ‘Please relax and enjoy our hospitality. The bar is open, and there is nothing to pay, obviously.’

The group dispersed to different corners of the pub to make phone calls and send messages, everyone moving tentatively and keeping their voices low in case loud noises set the mountain off again. Lucy looked at Nate, who was pale and sweaty again. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yeah,’ he mumbled. ‘Trying to remember to breathe.’

‘Gunther says we’re safe,’ she whispered.

Nate gave her a bleak look. ‘Well, with all due respect, Gunther would say that.’

‘Do you need to make any calls?’ To Sasha, for example?

‘Yeah,’ said Nate. ‘I guess I should.’