The Golden Peaks (3 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Celia found
that she became rapidly accustomed to the routine of life at the Hotel
Rotihorn
. Lisel and Hertha assured her that this was a very quiet period, although Celia found the unusual work hard enough. At Easter, they informed her, the hotel would fill up, and there would be not one moment
o
f peace for anybody. Mr. St. Pierre would certainly be at the
Rotihorn
during Easter, because he had managers at the Bellevue and the Mirabella. Lisel always spoke to Celia in English since she was anxious to improve in the language, but Hertha, who was lazier, talked always in German, so that Celia was able to practise. Anneliese could converse with equal ease in English, German, French and Italian, and was in constant demand by visitors in difficulties.

Johanna soon discovered that Celia was a good needlewoman, so that, often, when she was not actually waiting at table, or laying the tables freshly for meals, Celia was put to
mending
the finer linens. This she liked, because it gave her an opportunity of resting her tired limbs, and saved her the rougher, more arduous tasks; but as there were already two sewing maids, she was likely to be called away at any time to help with cleaning silver. She listened interestedly as the staff talked, eager to learn all she could of a different way of life, but frequently the girls talked in the dialect of the people, the difficult Swiss-German; and then she could not understand at all. They accepted her then she could not understand at all. They accepted her with very good grace, asking her questions about life in England, often helping her out of difficulties in her new work.

One afternoon, when she was free and was setting off to see Dorothy, she was approached by a tall Englishman who had newly arrived at the hotel. He was not at one of her tables, but she had been teased by an odd familiarity about him. She felt sure she had seen him before, but could not place him. She waited politely as be came to her, and returned his greeting, now struck by the familiarity of his voice.

“I won’t keep you a moment,” he said, “but I felt I had to talk to you. I’m pretty sure we have met before.”

“I don’t
think
we have,” said Celia, “but I also feel I’ve seen you somewhere.”

“The moment I saw you, I was intrigued by your resemblance to somebody I knew. It was the dark-red hair at first, and when I saw your face, I felt sure I had met you. But, if I am right, you were quite a schoolgirl at the time.”

Celia looked up at him, for he was very tall, trying to place
him
.
What she saw, she liked at once. Here was a type of
Englishman
with whom she was completely familiar. He was tall and lean, fair-haired, fair-moustached, brown
-
skinned and blue-eyed. He had a lazy and casual way of moving and of speaking, but she could see that he was physically fit. She knew at once, without having to know him longer, that he would always be courteous and preferred to be correct
.
She smiled on him so charmingly that it took his breath away, and he immediately smiled hack.

“Oh,” she said. “I
think
you must have been a friend of Peter.”

“Peter Dorrelson. That’s right
.
Then you are Cicely Dorrelson?”

“Celia,
”
she said.

“Celia. That’s right I met you, briefly, the first time I came to your house. You were off for a week-end’s camping, I remember, with some other frightening schoolgirls. You hadn’t a moment to spare for me.”

Celia laughed.

“I don’t suppose you had a moment for me either. We didn’t meet after that?”

“No. The next time I came down, you were working in a hospital; the time after that you had moved to London.”

“Yes, I was a driver for a crusty old general, but that didn’t last long. When the war was over, I got a secretarial job.”

“It’s rather a far cry to being a waitress in Switzerland, isn’t it?
”

“Force of circumstances,” she said with a smile. “So you were Peter’s
fri
end. Odd, isn’t it, that right out here we should bump into each other?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Small world, and all that
.
”

“I’m glad you liked Peter,” she said. “I simply adored him myself. It broke my mother up when he was killed. She was always delicate, and I believe that was the finishing stroke—
she
died a little while after.”

“I say, I
am
sorry. You have had some bad luck,
haven’t you?”

“No worse than lots of people, I expect she said. But please, you will have to excuse me now, because I have to get up to the rest centre.”

“You’re not ill, are you?” he asked solicitously.

“No. I have a small niece up there, and she is expecting a visit from me this afternoon. I mustn’t disappoint her.”

“Would that be Peter’s child?”

“Yes. My sister-in-law, unfortunately, hasn’t any time or thought for her, and was only too glad to let me assume responsibility. We haven
’t
been here long. I simply must get along and see her.”

“Then I won’t keep you. But I hope we can get together again soon, for another chat
.
”

“Yes, I should like that.”

She
hurried away, and climbed up to the rest centre. It was a long and tiring pull, but she always felt glad that
she
had made the effort when she saw Dorothy’s pleasure at having a visit. That young person, already looking much better
than
she had on her arrival, was beginning to chafe at the continued orders to rest
.

“It’s so silly, Celia darling, because I feel so well; but they only let me get up in the afternoon, and then they only let me walk on the terrace. I do so want to g
o
out on the
mountain.”

“Now, you just listen to me, Dodo.” This nickname, which they both agreed was a
si
lly one, always delighted Dorothy, who realized unconsciously that it covered af
f
ection. “All these nice people here know much better than you do, what you can manage and what you can’t. As soon as they think it is good for you to walk on the mountain, they will let you do it; and the sooner you do as you are told and get quite better, the sooner you will leave the rest centre to come and live with me. Now, we both want that as soon as we can get it, don’t we?”

“Oh, Celia, yes. Of course. I
will
do what I’m told, I promise.”

When Celia left, Dorothy was once more resigned and contented. Really, thought Celia, she looks
s
o much better that perhaps they will be able to cure her in the six months that I reckoned on. I know she has been in bed since we came, and hasn’t made a trial of her strength yet; but I would be so grateful and relieved to know that she was getting better. What a good thing that I am able to be so near her! And what an odd thing meeting that friend of Peter’s! I wonder how long he intends to stay?

She realized, at that moment, that these last weeks of strangeness, of responsibility for Dorothy, of anxiety about her health, had all been a strain; and that it was good to find a fellow-countryman here, somebody who spoke her language, understood her background, had known her beloved brother and her mother. And almost as the thought of him came into her mind, she emerged from the shadow of the pine wood and saw him on the rough mountain road a little way ahead of her.

He saw her at the same time, and waved a hand to her. As she drew near to him, he called out:

“Don’t think I’m dogging your tracks.”

“I wouldn’t so far flatter myself,” she called back. “I don’t own the mountain.”

“Well,” he said, as she came up to him, “you might flatter yourself even farther than that. Who would have thought that that rather pop-eyed schoolgirl would become such a raving beauty?”

“You are wrong on both counts. I was no more popeyed than I am a raving beauty now. By the way, I know I ought to remember your name, but I’m afraid I can’t
.
”

“Geoffrey Crindle,” he said, with a slight bow. “Very much at your service,” he added.

“Of course. Peter often wrote of you in his letters, and Mother talked of you. You were with Peter for a long time, weren't you? You were also a paratrooper?”

“Yes.”

“
There
is
a Geoffrey Crindle who writes detective novels,” she said thoughtfully.

“The same," he informed her.

“Really? Well, well. I
am
surprised. Such very violent detective stories. How can such a nice person as you delight in such orgies of blood?”

“Well,” he said, with a faint hint of apology in his voice, “people like orgies of blood, you know.”

“I was teasing,” she said. “They’re awfully clever books, I know. I wasn’t being critical—do forgive me.” They walked in silence for a few minutes, and came to a pathway leading to a very handsome
ch
alet, built on the mountainside to command the most extensive and majestic views. Here Geoffrey Crindle halted.

“What do you
think
of that?” he asked.

Celia studied it for a few seconds.

"It’s beautiful,” she said. “Really lovely. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve bought it,” he told her.

“Really? Oh, lucky you. Are you going to live in it?”

“
Yes
.”

"But can you do that? I mean, currency and all that.”

“Oh, well you see,” explained Geoffrey,
“
I am domiciled in this country and that makes all the difference; and as I have lived here most of my life, and a large part of my income comes from a Swiss watch factory, I haven
’
t any problem of that kind.”

“I didn’t mean to seem inquisitive.”

“I didn’t
think
you did. Care to come and have a look?”

“I’d like to very much. Nobody is there now?
”

“No. Builders and decorators have to have an innings first. I thought I’d move into the
Rotihorn
, which I know very well, and supervise the operations here.”

Celia walked with him over the soft turf to the
ch
alet
.
It was a particularly handsome one, its walls and
balco
ni
es intricately carved, its roof deeply overhanging. They went up the outside staircase to the balcony, from which long windows led into the living room. From it, too, the views of the mountain range and the massive snow peaks, were superb. Celia spent so long admiring them, and excl
ai
m
in
g with delight over the chalet itself, that when she finally remembered the time, she realized with horror that she would be late for the dinner service, unless she ran most of the way. Leaving Geoffrey to do one or two things before he returned to the hotel, she ran down the outside staircase and along the rough mountain road, chiding herself bitterly for putting this extra strain on herself.

She
reached the
Rotihorn
out of breath. She went
in
by the back way, and hurried along the corridor. As she turned a
corner
, she collided with a man coming in the opposite direction. As she drew aside, apol
o
gizing hastily, she realized, with a little shock, that it. was the man who had reprimanded her for her carelessness on the mountain.

She stood still in surprise. She was breathing rapidly.

“What, still running?” asked the man, with a smile that was very faintly derisive.

“I am a little late,” she said, so surprised to find this man of the mountain here in immaculate evening dress, looking the same and yet so different, that she had no idea what she was saying. Then the sense of the words came to her, and with a murmured excuse, she went to the stairs and ran up them to change. As she did so, the
surprising fact that this man was in the hotel kept recurring to her. She had thought he might be a mountain guide, but now she doubted it
.
She had thought he probably lived in the village. Well, why not? she asked herself. Perhaps he lives in the valley and has come up here to have dinner with a friend.

She tried to put him out of her mind. She must hurry. She put on her uniform. This evening uniform of the waitresses varied from the black dress with Swiss lace collar worn all day. For evening, they wore black skirts and
white blouses, with small embroidered white aprons. These blouses were so beautiful, so fine and elegant, that many of the guests had nothing to compare with them. They were
hand
embroidered in the traditional manner, or made with hand-made Swiss lace; and were supplied to Kurt St Pierre at a greatly reduced charge, for the advertisement.

And it was certain that many of the visitors, after seeing
th
e
m,
went straight off to the shop in the town, to buy.
Celia
adjusted her black skirt and little white apron, and, regarding her reflection in the mirror, thought that she looked little like a waitress, with her auburn hair cut short in curling tendrils. It looked rather expensive and useless,
an
d
perhaps she ought to let it grow. She combed it hurriedly, and went downstairs to the dining room; but although she looked among the guests for the tanned face and
keen
dark eyes of the man she had lately met
h
e was not to be found.