Page 36 of The Moon Sister
Back at the Lodge, I trooped in behind Zed, who marched into the kitchen to speak to a surprised Beryl. She’d obviously been giving Alison a lesson in pie-making and the girl was covered in flour as she rolled the pastry into the shape Beryl required.
‘It is simply too cold out there, Beryl,’ said Zed. ‘And there is no heating in that Land Rover. In retrospect, we should have taken my car, but it is too late now. I would like the fire lit and some sandwiches for both of us in the Great Room. Oh, and two glasses of that white Cabernet Sauvignon I brought with me.’
‘I should really get on with my work . . .’ I murmured.
‘Surely you can take a short break for lunch, Tiggy? Besides, I do not want to eat alone.’
I threw a despairing glance at Beryl, which she blatantly ignored.
‘Right you are, sir. You go into the Great Room and I’ll bring the sandwiches and wine. Take him through, Tiggy, and light the fire if you would. I’ll be along in a few minutes.’
This wasn’t a request, it was an order, so I led Zed to the Great Room and did as Beryl had asked.
‘This is more like it,’ Zed said as he sat down in a chair and warmed his hands against the fire. ‘A shame we don’t have any mulled wine. I like a glass at lunchtime to warm myself up on the slopes. Do you ski, Tiggy?’
‘I’m Swiss. Of course I do.’
‘I would love to take you to a chalet I know in Klosters. It is the ultimate for me; ski in, ski out, so you can be home at lunchtime and have the Michelin-starred chef provide you with the most superb veal scallopini. Where did you go to school by the way?’ he asked me suddenly.
I named the establishment and Zed nodded smugly. ‘The best there is. I imagine your French is fluent.’
‘It’s my native language, although all my sisters and I were brought up to speak English as well. What about you?’
‘German, but I too was taught English from the cradle, as well as Russian and French. Like my houses, I belong to everywhere and nowhere. In other words, I am a typical twenty-first-century citizen of a global world,’ he said as Alison walked in with a tray containing a bottle of white wine and two glasses.
‘Leave it there,’ said Zed imperiously. ‘We will pour it ourselves.’
The girl said nothing, just gave an odd movement that could have possibly been a curtsey, and scuttled out of the room.
I watched Zed check the label on the bottle, pour a little of the wine into his own glass then sniff, swirl, and drink, before nodding and filling mine.
‘Perfect for lunch. Fresh, crisp, with a good nose, but a tasty afterbite to follow.Santé.’
‘Santé.’
We chinked glasses, and whereas Zed took a serious slug, I took a tiny sip to be polite because I wasn’t used to drinking at lunchtime. As I stared into the fire, I felt his eyes on me again.
‘You do not look particularly Swiss, Tiggy.’
‘That’s because I’m adopted. As are all my sisters.’
Again, he gave me that strange knowing nod. ‘So, where are you originally from?’
‘Spain, or so I believe. My father died last year and in the letter I was given by his lawyer afterwards, that’s where he said he found me.’
‘You are a very unusual woman, Tiggy.’ His green eyes glinted in the firelight. ‘Many of the girls at your expensive Swiss boarding school must have been rich little princesses, but you . . . you are certainly not that.’
‘I don’t think any of us sisters were brought up to be so.’
‘Even though you have had the best of everything?’
‘We’ve had a very privileged lifestyle, yes, but we were taught to know the value of things, and also what really matters in life.’
‘Which is?’ he asked me as he refilled his own wine glass, then topped up mine, which didn’t really need it.
‘In essence, to be a good person. To never judge others by their position in life, because as Pa always said, life’s a lottery, and some people win and some people lose.’
‘I agree in principle of course,’ Zed nodded, his searing gaze still upon me. ‘But then again, what would either you or I know about struggling? I have had money all my life, and so have you. Whether we like it or not, we have always known the safety net is there, ready to catch us if we fall. So even though we can live like we have nothing, we can never really know the fear that real poverty brings.’
