Christmas in the Snow (32 page)

‘If she is, I’ll kill her,’ Allegra said with gritted teeth and a tremor in her voice.

‘If she’s not and Sam doesn’t find her, we’ll get the authorities to send out some skidoos. It’ll be fine. We’ll find her.’

‘OK,’ she nodded, so grateful to have someone else taking charge. Her mind felt such a jumble at the thought of something happening to Iz.

‘Come on, let’s get down.’

‘She’ll be down there. I know she will,’ Allegra murmured to herself as she wrapped her pole straps round her wrists again. ‘She’ll wonder what I’m making
such a fuss about. I always call her our health-and-safety officer. It really winds her up, you know, because she’s so precious about her little boy . . . I’ll never hear the end of
this . . .’

She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t stop, and Zhou didn’t try to stop her. They pushed off, taking the rest of the run slowly, peering into the trees all the way as Allegra
berated herself, lips moving, for ever having suggested the race in the first place. What had been
wrong
with her? What had she been thinking, trying to beat her sister at the only thing
she had ever bested in?

It was alarmingly quiet at the bottom, with almost no one around – just a bus half full of skiers waiting to take the last stragglers back to the centre of town. Isobel wasn’t in it
– Allegra personally checked – and she still wasn’t answering her phone.

‘Anything from Sam?’ she asked, walking back to him, worry beginning to deepen on her features again.

‘He’s not picking up – but that’s probably a good thing,’ he said quickly. ‘It means he’s skiing and can’t hear his phone. Don’t worry
– if your sister’s up there, Sam’s the man to find her. He’s disgustingly good.’

‘Maybe we should tell the authorities. Look, they’ve closed the lift now. They’ll all be going soon and she’ll be left up there . . .’ Her voice had risen an
octave.

Zhou reached into his pocket and took out a hip flask. ‘Here – take a sip. It’s whisky. It’ll help with the shock.’

Allegra did as she was told. And then some, taking three large gulps.

‘He’ll either be down in a minute or he’ll ring,’ Zhou said, staring into the trees. ‘Let’s just hold our nerve for a little while longer.’

‘OK, OK,’ Allegra murmured, stamping her feet to stay warm and staring back up the run with grim desperation.

The minutes dragged past, Allegra glancing back at Zhou with increasing frequency. ‘Where is he? He should be here by now.’

‘He will be.’ But the situation was looking worse by the minute.

‘Look!’ she gasped, pointing as several figures appeared like black dots on the piste. But there were too many of them – four, five.

‘No, I think it’s the last of the staff coming down,’ Zhou said, a note of despondency even in his voice.

‘Right, that’s it!’ Allegra said. ‘We’re reporting this now. My sister’s still up there and everyone’s going home for the ni—’

Just then the headlights of a skidoo crested the drop and shone down the run, highlighting the skiers ahead and gaining on them.

‘Oh God, they found her!’ she whispered, her hands folding over her heart as the figures advanced rapidly towards them. ‘She’s been hurt.’

‘I can see Sam,’ Zhou said, evident relief in his voice as distinguishing colours became visible.

Allegra saw the red and black kit too and she ran towards him as he slid to a stop and clicked out of his skis. ‘Where was she? What happened?’ she demanded.

Sam pushed his goggles back up onto his helmet and looked down at her. ‘She’s OK. Just twisted her knee, I think. But you were right – she took a fall in the trees. I managed
to get her down to the piste just as the organizers were going past. She’s—’

‘Oh God, Iz!’ Allegra said, rushing over as the skidoo drew level. ‘You gave me a bloody heart attack!’

‘Sorry,’ Iz grimaced, looking sheepish.

‘No, no, I’m just so glad you’re OK,’ Allegra said, throwing her arms around her neck. She pulled back and looked at the driver. ‘Thank you so much for bringing her
down.’

He shrugged, looking not quite so pleased as Allegra. ‘We could not leave her there, obviously. Although it was foolish for her to have gone off-piste
in the dark
.’

He shot a look at Isobel and Allegra suspected she’d already had a serious telling-off. ‘What do I owe you? How can I settle up?’

The driver went to reply, but Zhou interrupted. ‘Allegra, the most important thing right now is to get your sister warm and have a doctor look at her knee. My driver’s just over
there. Sam will help her into the car. Let me deal with this.’ He put a gentle hand on her arm.

‘But—’

‘No buts. Just help Sam.’

Allegra nodded obediently again, so grateful for Zhou’s calm authority. She grabbed Isobel’s skis and poles from the skidoo and tried to catch up with them. Isobel had slung her arm
around his shoulder and was groaning with discomfort as he helped her hop her way over to the Yong ‘limo’ – one of the town’s caterpillar-tracked taxis, but with blacked-out
windows.

Isobel took one look at it and twisted back to her sister with a grin. ‘Cool!’ she beamed.

‘Home, sweet home.’

Allegra looked across at Zhou as he motioned for her to exit the taxi first. It was clear he had a sense of humour. The chalet was many things – opulent, overscaled, no doubt overpriced
– but sweet it wasn’t. She waited as he followed after her. The roof line was etched out against the silky sky with pinprick white lights, but it seemed almost laughable to her that the
chalet’s silhouette needed to be picked out at all – the entire frontage of the chalet had been built in glass and plumes of golden light radiated from the building like atmospheric
gold.

Unlike a lot of the other chalets, where the approach was from above, this one had its own private funicular hidden behind a reinforced door and Isobel winked at her as Sam helped her hop to the
lift. Clearly the rich couldn’t be expected to climb stairs.

‘How are you feeling?’ Zhou asked Isobel, as the men graciously settled her on the bench seat, taking care of her skis and poles for her.

‘Better, actually,’ Isobel nodded, perking up with every passing moment. ‘Thanks
so
much for helping me out, Sam. I don’t know what I’d have done if you
hadn’t been passing.’ Isobel looked up at him with big doe eyes, which Allegra had seen put to use many times before.

‘Well, it was Allegra who—’

‘I know,’ Isobel sighed happily. ‘She’s a doll. So protective.’

Sam’s eyes met Allegra’s briefly, but they both looked away just as quickly, and she wondered whether he too was remembering what had happened the last time they’d shared a
lift. It all seemed so long ago now, but it had been barely over a fortnight . . .

The doors opened onto a vaulted hall of knotty, almost marled oaks that had variegated tones of caramel, blond, grey and ash streaking along the boards like waves. Overhead, chunky oak beams
crossed the ceiling, more like decorative lattice-work than structural pinnings, and discreetly positioned low-lit halogen spots created almost as artistic an effect on the walls as the priceless
works of art they were illuminating. A life-size black-bronze sculpture of a snow leopard was set on a jet mantel and she couldn’t help but brush her fingers over it as they passed.

‘Allegra, Isobel, this is Martin, the chef, and his wife, Estelle, our housekeeper. Any problems, she’ll get them sorted for you.’

‘Hi!’ Isobel said excitedly, hopping past with Sam’s help again, as Allegra nodded in silence to the smiling couple standing in the doorway of the kitchen and wearing matching
all-black trousers and shirts. They followed Zhou into the drawing room.

It was double height, but here the roof was glass – let the sky come to them! – as well as the walls, and the overall effect of three huge ivory sofas draped with white fur throws
and a giant white sheepskin rug on the floor, whose pile came up to their ankles, was of a captured snowdrift. Overhead, a trio of cylindrical crystal chandeliers dangled from the rafters, throwing
out a flattering dappled light. On every console – mainly red lacquered and no doubt priceless artefacts from Imperial China – were pictures of the family: Mr Yong standing stiffly in
front of a mine; Mr and Mrs Yong standing next to Indian steel magnate Lakshmi Mittal and his wife, Usha, in formal dress; Zhou wearing his Harvard colours and standing in the same guarded pose his
father favoured – his arms hanging, hands flat against his thighs, military fashion – as people in the background could be seen grabbing hands and backslapping each other.

A limestone chimney had a fire set and already lit behind a glass panel, and outside on the veranda, she could see teak loungers draped with reindeer hides. She walked to the window as though
magnetically drawn. The view over Zermatt from here was superb – the brooding silhouette of the Matterhorn was framed almost perfectly by the gabled windows, the peak of the mountain
seemingly nestling within the peak of the glass, and Zermatt lay between their two points, sprinkled before and below them like an earthbound galaxy. This was how billionaires played.

‘Come and lie down here,’ Zhou said, rearranging some cushions as Sam helped lower Isobel onto the plush sofa. ‘How does that feel?’

‘Fine,’ she grinned, her eyes practically popping out of her head at the sight of the sumptuous chalet.

‘The doctor’s already on his way,’ Zhou said, hovering over her anxiously and clearly wondering what else he could do. ‘I’d offer you a drink, but I think until the
doctor’s assessed you . . .’

‘Oh, totally. Listen – that view? That alone is healing. I can feel my leg getting better already.’

Zhou laughed, almost shyly, and Allegra looked at him as though seeing him for the first time. She had never considered him as anything other than a client, his father’s son, one of the
signatories of a fund that would enable her to invest and trade and analyse and play all the games that made up how she passed her days. He had just been a suit and formal manners in his
father’s company. (Although, hadn’t she too?) Here, though, she saw he was kind, considerate, gracious and sweet. He was modest and understated – nothing in his clothes or
demeanour gave away his billionaire status – and apparently in possession of a good sense of humour. He was good-looking too – with flawless skin and a light bone structure, his chin
square but relieved by finely carved cheekbones when he smiled – which he seemed to do a lot.

Sam had taken off his jacket and was prowling by the windows in his black ski pants and a thermal top that seemed to trace every muscle – at least, it did under the lights.

Isobel caught Allegra’s eyes and, jerking her thumb towards his turned back, mouthed: ‘Bloody hell! Phwoar!’

Allegra glanced at Zhou, hoping he hadn’t seen her sister’s indiscretion, but from the trace of a smile on his lips knew he had.

She rolled her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t think she shared her sister’s wildly misguided opinion, but Zhou just smiled more openly. ‘So, where are you staying?’

‘Down by the Mont Cervin. Off one of the backstreets.’

‘It’s a really cute apartment,’ Isobel said. ‘I mean, nothing like this, but . . .’

Allegra shot her sister another look, wishing she’d stop fawning over the Yongs’ place.

‘It’s such a surprise seeing you here. I mean, you said you’d never been here before and yet . . .’ Zhou had the grace to look apologetic, remembering the fallout from
the conversation.

‘Here we are, yes.’

‘Can I ask what . . . ?’

‘Personal business,’ Allegra said quickly. Sam had stopped pacing at the window and was listening in, and she wondered whether he remembered Kirsty delivering Sergeant Annen’s
message outside Pierre’s office.

‘Oh, I see,’ Zhou said, too discreet to press further, and Allegra had no intention of elaborating. They didn’t need to know the details of—

‘We just found out our grandmother’s from here,’ Isobel piped up from her resplendent position on the sofa. ‘She’s dead though!’

‘Iz!’

‘Allegra?’ Isobel retorted with an innocent look, knowing full well she was overstepping her sister’s boundaries. ‘What? It’s not like it’s a secret.
It’s in all the papers here.’

‘Ugh!’ Allegra said, throwing her arms in the air and beginning to pace too. Did her sister have no comprehension of when something was personal?

Sam waded in to the discussion. Of course he did.

‘What happened?’ he asked her, perching on the arm at the far end of the sofa.

‘She disappeared in a snowstorm sixty years ago. It was a really famous tragedy apparently. Anyway, she died in an avalanche and they only just found her in this tiny little mountain
hut.’

‘Oh . . .’ Sam and Zhou’s eyes swept over to Allegra, but she had turned away and was pretending to look out across Zermatt.

‘Mr Yong, the doctor is here,’ an unfamiliar female voice said.

‘Thanks, Estelle,’ Zhou replied, Allegra turning to find him shaking the hand of a grey-haired man in a long grey overcoat. ‘Dr Baden, this is my friend Isobel.’

Isobel visibly grew two inches at the words.

‘She hurt her knee skiing this evening.’

‘I see. Well, let’s take a look, shall we?’

‘We’ll give you some privacy,’ Zhou said, motioning for Allegra and Sam to leave with him.

‘But—’

‘She’ll be fine,’ Zhou smiled, beckoning her away from the sofa. ‘Let’s get a drink while we wait. And if you’d at least take off your coat, I’d
personally feel a lot more relaxed.’

He shot her another of the easy smiles that she found so disarming and Allegra looked down at herself, unaware that she’d even left it on. It wasn’t like they were staying.

‘I’m going to shower and change,’ Sam mumbled, disappearing with laidback familiarity into the chalet.

Zhou led Allegra into a smaller room at the back of the chalet – the study. The walls were lined with copper silk chinoiserie panels, and a fire was already flickering quietly, as though
it had been awaiting their presence.

‘Here,’ he said, handing her a brandy.

She frowned, remembering the glass of
génépy
in the pub, the
Glüwein
on the piste, the whisky in his hip flask . . .