Trafika Europe 6 - Arabesque

Catherine McNamara

hotel and agitated above the arena of snow before them. The hotel manager rushed onto the terrace, now wearing a gold-buttoned waistcoat, nodding to the pair of them. Frieda and Stefano drew together at the window. The tail cocked upward then the blades levelled and two long skis touched the snow and bore the weight of the machine. The hatch swung open and a man advanced in a crouch. The rescue men in red jackets had appeared at the rim of trees carrying a silver-wrapped package on a stretcher. His heart was thrown about. Stefano careered out onto the deck. Frieda followed with dizzy paces. ‘They radioed in,’ Stefano said to him. ‘Someone just let them know at the hotel. She’s

fallen quite a way but they’ve found a pulse. It’s very weak.’ Stefano and Frieda staggered across the snow which was icy and hardened now. The men parcelled the stretcher inside the helicopter and one of them motioned the pair to keep their heads down. He saw his daughter climb on board, but Stefano was absorbed by the group as they fastened the door. Instantly the craft was airborne and cutting across the valley, lifting towards the ridges, buzzing into the dusk. One of the men was rewarding the dog while the others began trudging back to the car park. Stefano stood there, wiping his eyes. The hotel manager went down the steps. Magda returned to him. Her face was wet. ‘We have no time left, do we?

242