A summer day in Switzerland by Eleonore Wapler
As an international business lawyer my father tended to be busy all year and it was quite extraordinary for him to take a holiday, I mean a proper holiday. In fact we got used to him packing his fax machine in his holiday luggage and then he would spend every morning isolated in a room somewhere, reading and calling other busy people at the other side of the world.
In the summer 1985, when I was about eight, our family went to Switzerland to spend a week in the house of a relative. I had also invited my close cousin to stay with us. The house was large, stylishly decorated with old curios, and it was all wooden inside, unpainted wood from floor to ceiling. It had blue shutters outside and for this reason it was called ‘Chateau Bleu'. An isolated ‘chateau' perched on a Swiss mountain, surrounded by a vast, thick and fragrant forest patched with a few sunny fields where cows harbouring tinkling bells grazed peacefully.
That afternoon my cousin and I were playing in the forest, not too far from the lane. We had found a little clearing whose ground was covered with moss and we were absorbed in making this haven a home for ourselves. We were stepping round bunches of bracken, flattening the earth with our heals and bending down to push stones aside. Only our quiet chattering and a few lazy flies could be heard. We were two little girls unconsciously setting the scene of the Midsummer's Day dream that already floated between the entangled branches of the fir trees.
Indeed the silence was suddenly broken by a cracking sound coming from high above us, followed by a thump. We were both startled and looked up. All we could see was a handful of leaves and needles falling in the sunlight. We looked down to the floor and found a shoe.
One fine leather shoe lying on the moss.
It had not been there earlier. It had appeared and seemed to have fallen from the sky.
After a few seconds of shared surprise - as there was no other being in sight - we were about to resume our games, just like ants would get back on track after a moment of disarray if you threw an object on their path. But as we did, a tall creature burst into the clearing, groaning like a wild animal. We screamed with a thrill of excitement. That beast was my father.
