Christmas in the Alps
The crisp mountain air of Astria bit at Kerra’s cheeks, a welcome sensation after the long flight. Beside her, Toni-Ann, Alice, and Amy chattered excitedly, their breath pluming white in the chill. Christmas in the Alps! It was the escape they’d dreamed of all year, a festive wonderland of snow-capped peaks and cozy chalets.
Their luxurious hotel, a grand edifice of dark timber and twinkling lights, welcomed them with the scent of pine and spiced wine. That evening, nestled in plush velvet armchairs in the hotel bar, a lively hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses filled the air. Kerra sipped her glühwein, soaking in the atmosphere, when a hush seemed to fall over her friends. She followed their gaze.
He had just walked in. Six feet tall, with a lean, athletic build, he moved with an almost unearthly grace. His black hair, shoulder-length and gleaming, framed a striking face. But it was his eyes that truly captured Kerra – deep amber, the colour of an old vintage whiskey, holding a captivating warmth.
“Well, hello there, Santa’s little helper,” Toni-Ann murmured, nudging Alice. “Seriously,” Alice breathed, “He looks like he stepped right out of a magazine.” Amy, ever the pragmatist, added, “And expensive, probably. Look at that suit.” Kerra simply watched him, a strange flutter starting in her chest. He was undeniably gorgeous, radiating an aura of quiet intensity.
Then, an older lady, impeccably dressed in a severe chignon and a diamond that glinted like a small sun, walked up to him. She took his arm with an air of possessiveness that left no doubt about their relationship. A quick whisper from a passing waiter confirmed what the friends had suspected – she was his wife, a wealthy heiress, known for her sharp business acumen. The unspoken rumour was that he, Doogan, had married her not for love, but for money, a strategic alliance to kickstart his failing business. The dream dissolved, replaced by a pang of something Kerra couldn’t quite name.
Later, as the bar grew livelier and their glasses emptied, Kerra volunteered for another round. She navigated the bustling room, approaching the polished oak counter. She found herself standing right next to him. Doogan. He was ordering something in a low voice, his profile strong and defined. As he turned slightly, his amber gaze met Kerra’s big, emerald eyes. A slow, gentle smile touched his lips, reaching those captivating eyes. In that instant, it felt as though the world had quieted, just for them.
Then, the woman beside him, his wife, tightened her grip on his hand. It wasn’t a loving touch, but a warning – a subtle, possessive squeeze that spoke volumes, as if to remind him of the deal, of what was at stake if he were to stray. Doogan’s smile wavered, then he turned his head back to his wife, offering her a more formal, almost practiced smile. The moment was gone, leaving Kerra with a lingering sense of melancholy and a curious heat in her cheeks.
Over the next few days, Astria unfolded as a winter paradise. The friends embraced it all – they carved down the ski slopes with joyful abandon, raced each other on toboggans, sending up plumes of snow, and spent evenings laughing through the hotel’s festive activities. They were in their element, soaking up every minute of their Christmas escape.
But amidst the whirlwind of fun, Kerra often felt a pair of eyes on her. She’d catch glimpses of Doogan, always with his wife, but his gaze would sometimes drift in her direction. He watched her on the ice rink, a faint, unreadable expression on his face. He observed her in the bustling lobby, and she swore she could feel his attention when she laughed, a spontaneous, uninhibited sound that often made her little button nose crinkle up. He seemed to love that, she thought, a strange warmth spreading through her.
One evening, by the grand Christmas tree in the hotel’s atrium, Kerra was retrieving a dropped mitten for Amy when she felt a familiar presence. Doogan was standing a few feet away, his wife engrossed in a conversation with another guest. He caught Kerra’s eye again, and this time, there was no smile, only a profound, almost yearning look in his amber eyes. Kerra’s heart gave a sudden lurch. He took a small step towards her, then another, as if drawn by an invisible thread.
“Enjoying the festivities, Kerra?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine, the first time he’d spoken her name. He must have overheard her friends.
“Yes, it’s magical,” she managed, her voice a little breathy. “You, too?”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the glittering tree, the festive crowd, before settling back on her. “Magical,” he echoed, a shadow passing through his eyes. “Sometimes, magic is found in unexpected places.”
Before Kerra could respond, his wife’s voice cut through the air, sharp and demanding. “Doogan, darling, are you joining us?”
He swallowed, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. “Of course, dearest.” He gave Kerra one last, lingering look, a silent apology or perhaps a promise, she couldn’t tell. Then, he turned and went back to his wife, leaving Kerra standing by the Christmas tree, wondering about the magic he’d spoken of, and the unexpected places it might truly be found.
The morning light in Lapland was a soft, pearlescent glow, washing over the frosted pines and blanketing the world in a pristine, ethereal white. Kerra, sipping her coffee in the hotel’s spacious dining room, watched as Doogan and his Mary-Lyn emerged from the lobby, their brightly coloured ski suits a cheerful blot against the snow. They shared a laugh, adjusted their goggles, snapped on their skis, and then, with practiced ease, pushed off together, gliding effortlessly toward the distant slopes. Kerra’s gaze lingered for a moment, a fleeting thought about shared adventures, before turning back to her own.
Her adventure, along with Toni-Ann, Alice, and Amy, was about to begin. They had secured a coveted reindeer ride, a charming, albeit chilly, way to see some of the local sights. The jingle of bells accompanied their picturesque journey through snow-laden forests, past quaint cottages and frozen streams. Laughter echoed amongst the trees as the quartet snapped photos and revelled in the pure, unadulterated magic of the Arctic landscape.
Later, they ventured into the small, bustling market town. The air was thick with the scent of pine, gingerbread, and roasting chestnuts. They browsed through artisan stalls, admiring handcrafted wooden toys and intricate knitwear, before settling into a cozy café for a hearty lunch of local stew and warm berry juice. The afternoon was a whirlwind of contented chatter and festive cheer.
Back at the hotel, a buzz of anticipation filled the air. A special Christmas show was scheduled for the evening, a local troupe promising traditional songs and dances, and Kerra’s group was eager to see it. They spent a leisurely hour dressing for dinner, their holiday finery a stark contrast to their earlier ski gear. The dinner itself was a lively affair, but as Kerra scanned the room, she subtly noticed the absence of Doogan and Mary-Lyn. Perhaps they were just dining in their room, she mused or perhaps had found another local eatery. It was a fleeting thought, easily dismissed amidst the clinking of glasses and animated conversation.
After dinner, they made their way to the hotel’s grand ballroom, now transformed into a festive theatre. The show was enchanting, a vibrant spectacle of colour and music that swept them up in its joyful energy. Yet, as the final bows were taken and the applause died down, Kerra again found herself scanning the departing crowd. Still, no sign of Doogan or Mary-Lyn. A flicker of something , but a subtle, unshakeable curiosity – settled in her mind.
The following morning, the dining room hummed with the gentle clatter of cutlery and soft murmurs. Kerra, Toni-Ann, Alice, and Amy, gathered around a table by the panoramic window.
“Maybe they’ve left,” Amy stated, spreading berry jam on her toast.
“No, they had gone skiing,” Kerra countered, a slight frown creasing her brow.
“Who knows,” Toni-Ann replied, shrugging, more interested in the pastry basket.
“Who cares?” Alice chirped in playfully, raising her coffee cup.
Kerra, however, found her gaze drawn to the snow-capped mountains outside, a landscape that no longer seemed purely idyllic. “I need a picture of them,” she murmured, an odd impulse she couldn’t quite explain. Before she could elaborate, a sudden flash of blue and white caught her eye. A local police car, stark against the pristine snow, pulled up outside the hotel entrance. And then, the driver’s side door opened, and Doogan emerged.
He looked different. Gaunt, pale, his beautiful posture replaced by a slumped weariness. There was no ski gear, no bright colours, just a dark, practical jacket. Kerra’s heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. Where was Mary-Lyn? Why wasn’t she with him? The questions screamed silently in Kerra’s head.
Without a word, Kerra pushed back her chair. “Where are you going?” Toni-Ann asked, sensing the shift in her friend’s demeanour.
“I’m going to find out what happened,” Kerra stated, her voice firm.
She reached the main entrance just as Doogan stepped inside, his eyes scanning the lobby as if searching for something, or someone. Their gazes met.
“Hello,” Kerra offered softly, feeling the chill of the morning air on her face.
“Hello,” Doogan replied, his voice hoarse, strained.
“Are you alright?” she asked, the words feeling inadequate even as she spoke .
Doogan’s shoulders sagged. “My wife is missing,” he choked out, the words raw and brittle.
Kerra felt a sudden cold rush, as if the frigid air from outside had seeped into her very bones. “Oh my god, how dreadful,” she whispered, her hand instinctively going to her mouth.
“I’ve been at the police station all night, helping with their enquiries,” Doogan continued, running a hand over his face, his eyes rimmed with red. He looked utterly broken.
The police, didn’t initially think there was anything untoward. Doogan wasn’t under any suspicion; there were no signs of a struggle, Mary-Lyn had simply vanished after they had gone skiing. One moment she was there, gliding ahead of him on a quiet, less frequented trail, the next, she wasn’t. He had searched, for hours before alerting the authorities.
The next couple of days unfolded like a slow-motion nightmare. The festive atmosphere of Lapland dwindled, replaced by a pervasive anxiety. Search parties, comprising local police and volunteers, combed the vast, unforgiving landscape.
Kerra and her friends watched, helpless, from their windows, the sight of snowmobiles and search dogs a grim counterpoint to the earlier reindeer sleighs. The initial hope, thin as ice, began to crack and splinter.
Then, the inevitable, tragic news arrived. The rescue search had come to an end. They had found the lifeless body of Mary-Lyn. She had been discovered at the bottom of a steep, snow-covered gully, obscured from view by a thicket of pines. The official report was brief, stark in its finality: she had suffered a fatal head injury. A simple, terrible accident on a beautiful, innocent ski slope.
The once vibrant, magical holiday now felt tainted, etched with an indelible sorrow. The mountains, once a symbol of adventure and beauty, now loomed as a silent, unforgiving witness to a life abruptly, tragically, extinguished.
The Austrian snow outside continued to fall, a soft, silent blanket over a holiday that was turning out to be far more complicated than Kerra and her friends had ever imagined.
To Be continued
Thank You for Reading
Deborah C. Langley
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