The Glacier Express – Part 2: The Summit Pass

The train reached the summit at two in the afternoon.

It stopped for ten minutes at a tiny station on the high pass, with the engine ticking and the passengers spilling out onto the platform to take photographs. The air was bitterly cold, thin and clean. The sun blazed on a vast white bowl of snow ringed by jagged peaks, glittering so brightly that Imani had to shut her eyes.

"Come," said Felix.

They walked to the end of the platform, where a low wall looked over the valley. The world dropped away below them in folds of white and blue. A frozen lake lay at the foot of the slope, a perfect circle of green ice. Far off, a thread of smoke rose from a hut.

"That's the one," said Felix. "The one I never mapped. I was always too late in the year."

"It's a lake."

"It's a secret."

She laughed, and her breath hung in the air. Her cheeks were stinging pink. He pulled a flask from his coat and poured two small cups of something hot and sweet: spiced wine, steaming. They stood side by side, drinking, looking down.

"I'm sorry the journey is almost over," said Imani.

"It is not over. There are four more hours."

"I mean the trip."

"Ah." He turned the cup in his hand. "I have a map table in Zurich and a very empty flat. I was thinking of making one more map."

"Of what?"

"I have not decided."

"Can I ask you something?" said Imani.

"Yes."

"Would you let me be in it?"

His spectacles had fogged. He took them off and wiped them. His eyes were clear and bright and nervous. "You would be the centre."

"May I kiss you, Felix?"

"Yes," he said, laughing breathlessly. "And if you say stop, you must walk the pass with me in summer."

"That's no punishment."

"I hoped not."

She kissed him, cold-lipped and warm-hearted, a gloved hand rising to his woolly scarf. He kissed her back with a slow, wondering tenderness, tasting of cloves and snow. The train whistle sounded on the platform behind them, long and low, over the echoing mountains.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Imani. "Very green."

The last map he ever drew shows a high pass, a frozen lake and a small red mark beside it. The legend reads: Here, two travellers got off the train.

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