Len went back to the sitting room, where Dr. Culver was sitting in an armchair, long legs stuck out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. The evening sunshine was streaming through the window onto his head, shining onto his fair curls and making them gleam like burnished gold. He was flicking through one of Reg's medical journals, but he looked up as Len approached.
"I'm sorry, but Reg has had to go back to work," she explained.
"Yes, he said he was needed at the San." Dr. Culver stood up. "I can go now, if it's not convenient for you," he told her.
"No, stay for dinner," Len insisted. "I've cooked enough for three, and it's a shame to waste it."
"Thank you," he said. "I'd like to stay. But you must let me come and give you a hand."
"You can carve the meat if you like," Len suggested, for she was not very good at cutting even slices.
Dr. Culver followed her into the kitchen and set to work carving the joint of beef while Len dished up the vegetables and rescued the Yorkshire puddings which she had forgotten about. She poured gravy over the meal and then carried the plates into the tiny dining room. While Dr. Culver sat down, she fetched the bottle of wine that had been left uncorked in the kitchen and went to pour a glass of wine for her guest.
"When I looked at all these chalets from the outside I thought they looked terribly quaint," Dr. Culver said, "But they're so comfortable inside. I know this sounds silly, but in here it's hard to believe we're just in a little wooden building."
Len chuckled. "I suppose you're right," she agreed, glancing around the room. "We've lived here for five years now, and it is really comfortable."
"I visited Gill and her family at the weekend, and their place is just as homely," Dr. Culver continued. "I'm in lodgings at the San at the moment, but I have to say that I'd really like to move out, into my own chalet. Then I'd feel that I really am in Switzerland."
"When the snow comes you'll feel that you are really in Switzerland," Len told him.
"When will that be?"
As they ate, Len told him about the onset of winter, and how lovely the Platz looked once the snow had fallen. Used to English slush, Dr. Culver told her that he couldn't wait for winter and was eager to learn to ski and do some tobogganing.
"If you've finished, Dr. Culver, I'll get the pudding," said Len, as he sat back in his seat and finished the last of his wine.
"Please, my name's Benedict," he told her. "You don't have to call me Dr. Culver."
"And I'm Len," she reminded him. "I hope you like apple crumble."
"It's one of my favourites," he assured her.
Len took out the plates and soon returned with a large dish of apple crumble. She had put some in the fridge for Reg to eat later, for it was his favourite dessert, but there was plenty left and Dr. Culver happily disposed of two helpings, both well doused in cream.
"I don't think Switzerland is going to be the most healthy country for my waistline," he remarked when he finally laid down his spoon.
"Oh, we walk a lot up here on the Platz," Len assured him. "And if you're planning on doing all this skiing, you'll keep in shape. It's just that the air up here makes one feel very hungry all the time."
"I hope you're right," he said.
"Would you like some coffee now, or do you prefer tea?"
"Coffee would be wonderful," he answered. "If it's not too much trouble."
"It's no trouble at all," Len assured him, gathering up the dishes and taking them into the kitchen, where she ran hot water for the washing up. She put the coffee percolator on and as it heated up, she started on the washing up. Dr. Culver came into the kitchen, carrying the wine glasses and sundry other things from the table. "Where shall I put these?" he asked.
"Oh, please go into the sitting room and I'll bring you your coffee," Len told him. "You don't have to do that."
"Yes, I do," he corrected her. "I've just enjoyed one of the best meals I've had since arriving in Switzerland, so the least I can do is help you clear up." He went back into the dining room and was soon back with the table cloth and mats. Brushing aside Len's protests, he took the tea towel from its hook and began to dry the plates that she had washed, stacking them neatly on the worktop.
Once the work was done, Len poured the coffee and they went into the sitting room. "Thank you for your help," she said, sinking down onto the settee.
"Thank you for dinner," he replied.
"I'm just sorry that Reg couldn't have been here as well," she told him. "Then he could have answered any questions you might have about the San."
"He does that at work," Dr. Culver assured her. "As does Armand, Gill's husband. Everyone here is so friendly and welcoming, it's great."
"Yes, the people up here are wonderful," Len agreed. "It's rather a tradition to be friendly."
"Rather different from where I was before," he told her. "London is not a friendly place!"
"I can imagine it being large and impersonal," she said, for she had little experience of the English capital.
"It's exactly that." Benedict put down his empty coffee cup and stood up. "Thank you so much for a lovely evening, Len. I'd better be off now, before it's too dark to find my way home."
"Do you know which way to go?" she asked, standing up as well.
"Along the road and turn left," he said, "and then I keep on that road until I've passed Gill's place. After that, I turn right."
"Yes, that's right," she assured him.
Dr. Culver pulled on his coat and followed Len to the front door. "Thank you for a lovely evening," he said.
"Good night," she replied.
"Good night." Benedict stepped over the doorstep and strode away up the path, turning to wave as he reached the street.
Aware of a nip in the air, Len closed the door and went back into the chalet, wondering how long she would have to wait until Reg came home. Sometimes he was gone for hours, but sometimes he would not return until the next morning. It all depended on how his patient was doing; until he had done everything he could do, he would remain at the San.
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oer missus! 
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Benedict.
