‘I don’t know,’ Evelyn said. ‘It’s getting dark. It’s Thursday. There’s no night skiing. No lights.’ Her voice was growing louder, a function of the language barrier. She tried to moderate it. ‘How good a skier is your son?’
The man nodded. ‘He’s very good. Very accomplished.’
‘Right. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m making us all worry for no reason.’
‘You are worried.’
‘Yes. But Daniel is a good skier too and so. Would you like to eat now, or to wait?’
The man and woman consulted each other. ‘Let’s feed the children,’ he said.
Evelyn was on the phone to the ski patrol when there was a knocking sound from downstairs and Daniel and the boy were down there, in the cold entranceway, the door to the drying room open, ski jackets half off, laughing, stamping feet, the smell of snow on them. ‘Where have you been?’ Evelyn cried. ‘I’ve been freaking out.’
‘Sorry,’ Daniel said. ‘It was incredible, we had the sweetest run.’
‘Fuck that,’ Evelyn said, and the boy looked up sharply. ‘You can’t just do that.’
‘I said I was sorry!’ He said something to the boy in German and the boy ducked his head as if he wanted to laugh but knew it would be a bad idea. He kept his head low as he followed Daniel up the wooden stairs and past Evelyn, still with the phone in her hand although the patrol coordinator had said, ‘All good? My other line’s going,’ and hung up.
Eve marched to the fire and opened the door and threw the frog in. There. She shut the door, an extra lick of bright flame flaring through the soot-stained glass. The mother beamed at her son and said, ‘Wasche deine Hände.’
The boy tucked into his macaroni and cheese and Eve placed the salad lightly in front of him, the vinegary dressing buzzing in the small atmosphere above the bowl. The boy’s family watched him eat. He told a story, in German, while he was chewing, spearing creamy blond pasta onto his fork, holding it high while he swallowed. He broke a crusty roll in half and wiped it through the pale green traces of olive oil that pooled on the plate.
Evelyn sieved icing sugar over the birthday cake and poked spiralled candles, miniature barley twists, in a circle around the top and lit them, the first couple of matches snapping at the waist, the smell of phosphorous lingering until the cake was safely ablaze. Daniel turned out the living-room lights and the family breathed in as one and sang the English happy birthday song to their boy. Everyone clapped at the blazing cake. Its candles flickered while the mother and father cleared space in the middle of the table and the father found a woven tablemat in the cabinet drawer.
‘Sorry.’ Evelyn shook a strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘I should have done that.’
The boy leaned forward and blew out the candles and everyone cheered quietly, a hushed happy sound that warmed the whole chalet as though it was crammed full of well-wishers, people standing in every room, giving soft applause for this boy’s life.
As they ate, the family’s conversation became louder, the children talking over each other, the mother laughing when she had to intervene. The father followed Daniel into the kitchen, where Evelyn was washing the dinner plates.
‘Could you take him for another lesson the day after tomorrow? Tomorrow we go to the village. We will spend the day together.’
‘Sure. Kein Problem.’ Daniel stretched out the red rubber band that held the plastic wrap over the punnet of strawberries. He reached under the wrap and drew one out as though it were a large jewel. The father and Evelyn watched as he opened his mouth and put the strawberry in, twisting the green cap and stalk off with his fingers, while the rest of it was chewed and swallowed.
‘Good?’ said the father.
‘Sehr gut,’ said Daniel.
Oh fuck up, Evelyn said, to the sink.
In bed there was the sound of wind shearing the ice, and the noises from the bathroom of Daniel brushing his teeth. He didn’t use much water; the brushing was loud and healthy-sounding, like someone eating an apple in your face. The light went out; the room was dark except for a bright line of orange beneath the door.
‘Can you turn out the hall light?’
Daniel did, and the room disappeared. The mattress shifted with his weight. He began walking his thumbs