Confessions of a Chalet Girl: (4 page)

Why hadn’t Scott told her he was going to Italy again today? After all he’d told Magda … 

Come on Holly, it’s not like he’s your boyfriend or anything. He didn’t promise anything and that’s…fine.

Yeah right, and if she believed that then she was a championship skier. Once she'd sorted this out she swore she would never lie on her CV again. But then skiing with the guests certainly hadn’t been mentioned at the interview.

Scott would be fine about this, surely. Maybe he’d even find it funny?

***

When her alarm went off at six am the next morning she was waiting for it, had been lying awake for ages, stiff with fear. Not to mention stiff and sore from yesterday’s intensive skiing lesson. A lesson that made it clear to her just how difficult it would be to complete today’s trip and remain in one piece, never mind actually convince anyone she had a clue what she was doing.

It was time to find Scott and confess.

Scott arrived in the kitchen just after six am with a black cloud hovering overhead. He needed a cup of coffee. The black mood had haunted him since New Year’s Eve. He’d driven down to Sion and walked around the town to distract himself from how much he wanted Holly. Being in close proximity to her at the Chalet had been too difficult to handle.

Never had doing the right thing felt so crap.

It'd gone downhill from there when he’d visited the chalet in Cortina on New Year’s Day to find the first fix not completed as planned since his last visit in December. And construction site had been left unsecured. Couldn’t he trust anyone to get things right? Clearly the site manager had been lying when he’d assured him all was going well. He ground his teeth just thinking about it.

Adding to that was the difficulty of not dwelling on today's date. Zoë died a year ago today and he couldn't bear to think about it. Yet not thinking about her felt like a betrayal.

If she hadn't lied about being ill … If only I'd been around to force her to get medical help … 

The old tormenting thoughts pelted him like bullets of hail, stinging as they hit their target.

The only glimmer of sunshine that morning was Holly, looking up from the sink where she dried the saucepans from last night's supper. She was keen, there was no sign of the other girls yet. Her auburn waves were secured up in a loose ponytail and her cheeks flushed a healthy pink.

A real English Rose.

‘Morning,’ she said, smiling tentatively.

‘Hi there, looking forward to today?’ He found he was able to smile back at her. His spirits had lifted already at the thought of spending the day with her, and hopefully the night too, if all went as planned.

‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’ She twisted and untwisted the tea towel in her hand.

‘Not bailing out on me I hope?’ The disappointment was crushing. He’d regretted not asking her to go with him to Cortina yesterday. So what if the other girls had talked? Sod them. He wanted to spend time with Holly and he was the boss. If anyone was allowed to break the rules, he could. ‘I’m relying on you to help and it’ll be great fun.’

‘I’m not that good at skiing you know.’ She bit her lip. ‘I have no idea where that photo on the Internet came from. It must be someone’s idea of a joke.’

He could hardly concentrate on what she was saying. Memories of Zoë 's final days in the hospice in Surrey had unleashed a torrent of pain. Awareness of Holly's reluctance to join the trip today penetrated his thoughts but he couldn’t listen. He needed her with him, even if that made him selfish. He had to be selfish today if he was going to get through it.

‘I’m not expecting too much. Don’t worry. Have you got stage fright? It’s not that difficult a run, I wouldn’t risk real live guests on anything too dangerous.’

‘It's … I’m terrified of helicopters,’ she blurted. ‘Always have been, I’m afraid.’

The tea towel twisted into a tightly knotted rope in her hands, her nails embedded in the cloth.

‘Oh? It’s a very short ride.’ He frowned at her, perplexed. ‘You’ll barely be strapped in before we land again.’

‘I, I don’t know.’ She squeezed her eyes shut.

‘Please do this for me Holly, I don’t have time to make other arrangements.’ He gazed at her imploringly. ‘I’ll look after you, I promise. And you know how much the guests like you.’

‘Hmm.’ She shrugged.

It was true, Holly had been a real hit with the guests. Her softer, caring nature made her more popular than the spiky tongued Magda. He stepped forward and took hold of the tea towel, tugging her towards him and planting a quick, soft kiss on her lips.

Delicious.

Who cared what anyone else thought?

She tasted of coffee and croissants. The sounds of the guests getting up and going to their ensuite bathrooms made him pull back with regret.

‘Tonight, after supper, I’ve got a treat for you.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Come on, ski with me today. It’s a doddle. Just a gentle run on pristine powder snow. What could be nicer than that? And I promise the helicopter will be fine, over before you know it. Please?’

‘Alright then.’ She smiled but it was a small, tight smile. ‘As long as you know I’m not that good a skier.’

Magda had told him Holly was shy when it came to talking about her achievements. It’d been her who’d shown him Holly’s Facebook page. He supposed Holly must be one of those people who had more confidence when in their ‘online’ persona.

Slalom skiing was highly skilled. Even if she’d lost her nerve for the kind of speeds she was used to in competitions she’d still be streets ahead of the rest of them.

He really wanted her company, the thought of having her by his side lifted his spirits and his day started to look up. If Holly wasn’t with him he knew he’d just obsess about Zoë. Holly would be a lovely distraction and the night he’d planned for them would be the perfect ending to the day.

***

Not that good a skier!

The hum of the helicopters rotor blades seemed to resonate with the panic coursing through Holly’s body. What on earth had possessed her? She’d hoped pretending to be terrified of helicopters might do the trick.

Clearly not.

It wasn’t the helicopter making her nervous but the plunging-head-first-into-an-icy-ravine-when-she-lost-control part. She’d gone for the crash course lesson yesterday on the basis at least she wouldn’t have to admit to Scott she’d never skied before in her life. So, she knew how to walk in ski boots, no mean feat in itself, and how to stay upright-ish on skis. She mentally ran through how to execute stopping and turning. As long as she remembered which way she was supposed to lean she might come out of this alive…

Go and tell him you’re not doing it!

She ignored the persistent anxiety leaping up and down at the edge of her mind waving a red flag. She hated conflict, absolutely loathed it and would do all kind of stupid things to avoid it. Like this for example. You hardly needed to be a psychologist to know the fear stemmed from her mother's drunken verbal attacks on her but that didn’t help her any.

Six hours intensive tuition had left her muscles sore and cramped. Who knew what state she’d be in after today? Nursing broken bones in hospital probably.

Her stomach lurched. Exactly how had she let herself be swept along with this? On the plus side the fact she was clearly lacking a backbone would come in useful later when she hurtled off the edge of the cliff.

She hadn’t been able to bear letting him down. He seemed really keen to have her along today and in return she'd wanted to be with him. What surprise did he have planned for her later, she wondered. Would she still be in one piece to enjoy it?

Her fingers knotted together on her lap, knuckles white as she tried to smile at Scott.

‘Okay?’ he mouthed at her over the noise of the helicopter.

Huh, she wasn't so much okay as certifiably insane. She nodded warily, her stomach lurching in sympathy. She was too far in to tell the truth now. She was sick of always having to pretend she was all right. Just for once she felt like saying ‘No, I’m bloody well not okay.’

Magda, sitting next to her, caught her eye and smirked. Almost as if she knew the mess Holly was in. Hmm, maybe it’d been Magda who’d hacked her Facebook and Twitter accounts? She certainly didn’t seem to like Holly; she’d taken against her from the first night. But did she really hate her enough to stitch her up like this? Then there was the question of whether she had the technical skills to do it. But even if she didn’t, she could easily have persuaded someone who did…

Holly concentrated on taking a deep breath, mentally shelving the suspicion. She needed to concentrate and would just have to do her best. Panicking wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She’d have to remember what Finn had taught her yesterday and take it as slow as possible.

All too soon they were landing. Magda climbed out gracefully. Holly lost her footing and slipped on the impacted ice, tumbling face down into the snow.

Even with her face stuck in a snowdrift and stinging with cold, the hoots from the guys descending from the helicopter behind her were audible.

‘Here, let me help you up,’ Scott said, a strong arm raising her up and setting her on her feet again. ‘Right, let’s get the gear out the back. I thought Magda and I could take the lead as we know the route to the mountain cantine and you could take the rear, make sure we don’t lose a guest on route?’

Humph, losing one of those jerks would be a bonus.

She held her tongue and tried to regain her dignity, last sighted somewhere in a snowdrift. Both her face and her pride smarted like mad, she hated looking stupid. At the rear would be good. No one would be watching her and she could go as slowly as she liked.

Thankfully she managed to get her skis on and locked into position without falling over again or needing Scott's help. The vivid blue expanse of sky contrasted sharply against the jagged, bright-white mountaintops. The air smelt deliciously fresh and mellow sunshine lifted her spirits. Maybe she could enjoy today after all, it couldn’t be too…

You have got to be joking? We're going down there?

She eyed the steep mountainside with pure terror, made worse by the sound of the helicopter rotary blades starting up. Once the helicopter left she’d have no choice but to ski down there.

‘Scott,’ she called out to where he was talking to a guest up ahead, giving him some pointers.

Apparently he hadn’t heard. He didn’t turn his head and skied off ahead with the guys and Magda. She’d have to ski after them if she wanted to get his attention.

Lean forward, not back, bend your knee to turn…Oh God help me!

Not a regular prayer, she prayed now, not quite sure who she was praying to.
I’ll pray to anyone who’ll listen!

She had to catch Scott up before he went too far. She leant forward to increase her speed as she’d been taught. Her stomach lurched and seemed reluctant to keep pace with the rest of her body. She couldn't blame it, the speed terrified her. She seemed to be travelling at a terrific rate and yet she still lagged at the back.

Too late. They’d approached the first ridge.

Please God help me. Don’t let me die.

She whispered a prayer as she went over the edge of the pristine powder snow, feeling a disconcerting lurch in her ribcage. Only when she found herself at the bottom of the steep incline and on a gentler slope did she remember to breathe again.

Every muscle tensed, her entire body on high alert. If this run went much further she thought she might literally die of terror. She sped up to keep them in sight, thinking maybe she might just pull this off when her ski hit a ridge in the snow and she lost her balance. She flew into the air and then crashed down onto her back with a force that winded her.

Her back must be broken at the very least. A molten hot pain radiated up through the elbow she'd shot out to try and break her fall.

‘Help, help!’ she shouted as loudly as she could and tried in vain to push herself up into a sitting position.

The mountain air didn’t bring back an answering cry. Winded, exhausted and miserable, she gave up trying to sit up and lay back in the snow. At least her Ebay snow gear was keeping her dry and warm, but for how long? She would just rest a bit and then try again…but what about her phone?

With relief, she remembered her iPhone and pulled it out of her pocket.

No signal.

Of course there wasn’t a bloomin' signal. There weren’t any mobile phone masts up here on the mountaintops.

They’d find her. Someone would find her. Scott would retrace his steps. Maybe he'd recall the helicopter? She shuddered to think how much it might cost to get her back down. Would her cheapo Internet travel insurance pay out? Probably not, given this was entirely her own fault. Hadn't the winter sports section of the policy said something about off piste skiing? Something like idiots who attempted it deserved all they got, although not quite in those words.

She forced herself to try and sit up again, this time she managed it. Okay, so her back wasn’t actually broken after all, but the knock to her elbow had been vicious and the pain was pretty bad. The silence unnerved her as she waited, wondering what she should do.

Then Scott’s head and bright red ski jacket appeared over the brow of the slope and she sagged back into the snow with relief. His skis were over his shoulder as he made his way determinedly back to her, his face grim and the snow well up to his knees.

I hope I haven’t blown it with him. He looks rather pissed off.

She cradled her elbow as it got her attention with another angry stab of pain.

‘Holly, are you okay?’ he asked as soon as he was in earshot, his eyes full of concern. ‘What happened?’

‘I’m not sure, I hit something and came over.’ She winced as another wave of pain hit her.

‘Where are you hurt?’ He crouched in front of her.

‘My elbow, and my back a bit.’ She grimaced again as another wave of pain hit her and cradled her injured arm.

‘Let me see your elbow.’ His voice was taut with what could have been anxiety or anger, she couldn’t tell which.

She shrugged off the ski jacket on the injured side and rolled up the long sleeve of her T-shirt. Even now, in pain and humiliated, his touch on her bare skin roused her libido. Desire fought with embarrassment at being shown up and anger he hadn’t listened to her when she'd tried to get out of this trip.

The pain wasn’t helping her mood much either.

‘I think it might be a ligament injury. We’ll have to get you back to town to a doctor.’

‘I did try to tell you I wasn’t an experienced skier.’

‘What?’ he frowned, his forehead furrowed. ‘But what about all that stuff on your Facebook page? Are you seriously trying to tell me it was faked?’

‘It wasn't faked by me,’ she said quickly, alarmed by the hard expression that had crept into his eyes, driving the softer Scott deep under cover. ‘Someone must have hacked my account, faked the photo on Facebook and well…thought it was a joke.’