The One We Fell in Love With (36 page)

‘How is Amelie, by the way?’ I find myself asking.

He looks at me with surprise.

‘Sorry, I feel like I know her, too,’ I explain. ‘She visited you and Phoebe a few times during that summer.’

I also know from Phoebe’s most recent diary that she lost touch with Cécile. She wrote that Cécile had moved to Germany, but she would have attempted to catch up with her if
she’d still been here.

Remy smiles and nods. ‘Yes, she did. She’s very well, thank you for asking. She got married last year, but no babies yet. Here you go,’ he says, wheeling one of the bikes
towards me. ‘Climb on and I’ll just check the seat doesn’t need adjusting.’

I do as he says.

‘Perfect,’ he comments. ‘Feel okay?’

‘Yes.’ I nod.

‘I’ll lead, but tell me if I’m going too fast or too slow,’ he says.

The latter is unlikely.

We bike up the mountain on a not too difficult trail and then stop off for lunch. There’s no snow at this time of year, but the view from the café is stunning – we can see
down the entire Chamonix valley with the Mont Blanc range in the distance.

The trip is so much fun, thrilling and a little scary at times, but mostly exhilarating.

‘Thank you so much,’ I say to Remy on the car journey home. ‘I really enjoyed that.’

My cheeks are rosy red from the cool mountain air and my hair has come loose with the wind and the motion of bouncing over the rocky ground. I feel happy.

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He returns my smile. ‘What now? Have you dinner plans?’

‘No, but you don’t have to—’

‘I want to,’ he cuts me off. ‘There’s a restaurant in Chamonix that I think you’d like.’

‘You do actually look a little different to each other,’ Remy says from across the table.

‘Oh?’ I say, pleasantly surprised that he thinks so.

‘I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m sure I could tell you apart.’ He sits forward in his seat. ‘What do you do, Rose?’

‘I’m not really sure, to be honest,’ I reply with a smile.

He raises an inquisitive eyebrow so I tell him about how I quit nursing, and how I’ve rediscovered my passion for gardening.

‘What about you?’ I ask warmly. ‘Do you like your job?’

His smile falters and he looks down at the table. ‘I did and, yes, I still do. It took me a while to go back to work after the accident.’

‘Were you hurt?’ I ask gently. I don’t want to lose it here, and neither does he, I’m sure, so we won’t stay with this subject for long.

‘I fractured my ribs, but it was mainly only surface cuts and bruises. I was very lucky.’ His eyes are shining as he glances up at me. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers.

‘Stop,’ I say quickly, touching my hand to his. ‘If you hadn’t sent the rest of your group on ahead, it sounds like you all could have...’

He swallows and I take a deep breath and try to compose myself.

‘I didn’t mean to bring it up again, but I’m glad you’re still working as a guide. Phoebe was happy to hear that you were doing a job that you loved, even though I think
she was a little envious.’

‘Oh, it also has its drawbacks,’ he tells me wryly. ‘The worst thing is turning people back when the conditions aren’t right or you don’t think they’re ready
for it. Getting so close to the summit of Mont Blanc and then telling clients who’ve paid a lot of money that it’s not going to happen... I deal with some very disillusioned
people.’

‘When are you next going up?’ I ask.

‘In a few days’ time. I have a group of Australians coming.’

‘Tell me about the climb you did with Phoebe and Dad,’ I prompt.

I’m glad to sit and listen to him, watching as he grows increasingly animated talking about his favourite hobby. It sounds like he got on well with Dad – they had a mutual respect
for each other – although Remy did say it was sometimes a case of too many cooks.

‘I joined them on their preparation climb, in the lead-up to their Mont Blanc ascent. The White Lady was something they planned to do just the two of them,’ he explains.
‘Anyway, your father wanted to lead, but I was used to doing that.’ He smiles good-naturedly. ‘Phoebe encouraged me to let him have his way.’

I laugh, remembering how pig-headed Dad could be at times. He wouldn’t have let a young upstart get one over him. ‘Well, he certainly had a lot of experience,’ I say
diplomatically.

‘That wasn’t why I bowed down to him,’ Remy replies with a smirk. ‘I just didn’t want to piss off my girlfriend’s father.’

We both laugh.

It is the loveliest evening, which is surreal considering the tragedy that brought us together.

‘Your climbs do sound amazing,’ I say when he’s finished regaling me with stories.

‘You’ve really never been tempted?’ he asks.

‘I couldn’t think of anything worse.’

He smiles. ‘Are you afraid of heights?’

‘No, it’s not that. Although I did feel incredibly unsteady at the top of the Aiguille du Midi. I was a bit freaked out,’ I admit. ‘I wanted to go across to Helbronner,
but I needed to get back down again.’

‘That’s a shame,’ he says, looking disappointed on my behalf. ‘It is the most incredible journey, travelling over crevasses, surrounded by mountain peaks.’

‘Now you’re making me feel bad that I missed it,’ I say with a little laugh.

‘I’ll go back with you tomorrow, if you like?’

I decide to take Remy up on his offer, so the next day, we return to the Aiguille du Midi. I still feel short of breath and a bit giddy, but I’m not nearly as anxious
with him by my side.

We catch one of the tiny, four-person egg-like cable cars to Italy, which glides over the glacier and wild crevasses below. I’m by no means relaxed, but I feel somewhat better equipped to
be able to enjoy the view without worrying too much that I’m going to faint.

In Helbronner, we visit the crystal museum before going to the café for lunch.

‘I forgot you used to live in Turin with an Italian girlfriend,’ I say after Remy orders in fluent Italian.

He shakes his head as we take our food to a table. ‘I wish I had access to
your
diaries. You have an unfair advantage.’

I laugh and sit down. ‘My diaries are horrendous. I was such a love-struck idiot as a teenager.’

He raises one eyebrow.

‘I read them recently,’ I explain, cracking open my can of Diet Coke. ‘I went through
a lot
of crushes.’

On the return journey, Remy asks me about Angus. ‘You say he didn’t climb.’

‘No.’

‘But he and Phoebe got on well?’

‘Very well,’ I reply. ‘They had a lot of fun together.’

I sound a bit defensive, but I’m uncomfortable talking about Angus to Remy.

‘I don’t think Angus had anything to do with Phoebe stopping climbing,’ I say. ‘He never would have tried to prevent her from doing something that made her so happy. Now
I think about it, it’s more likely that she stopped because Dad died. It probably upset her too much to go on her own.’

Remy nods thoughtfully, staring out of the window.

Sometimes I think it’s a blessing that Dad died before Phoebe. I don’t know how he would have coped, knowing that he set her on a track towards her death. But then, he understood the
risks. They both did. To me, climbing is a selfish sport. To them, it was as fundamental as breathing.

‘Where were you when you lost her?’ I ask quietly, following Remy’s gaze across the jagged peaks, the snow catching the afternoon sunshine and reflecting it back to us
blindingly.

‘I’ll show you when we get back to the Aiguille,’ he replies quietly.

I feel like I’m going to throw up as we take the elevator to the top terrace, and I’m shaking as Remy leads me to the railings and puts his hand on my back, but he doesn’t make
me wait before telling me what I need to know.

‘There,’ he says, pointing. ‘We were on Mont Blanc du Tacul, just in front of Mont Blanc.’

My throat has swollen up painfully, so all I can do is stare.

‘She joined our group on a preparation climb for Mont Blanc,’ he tells me gently, ‘like the one we did with your father. We were planning to turn around at the top of Mont
Blanc du Tacul and come back here.’

I nod again. Tears are streaming down my cheeks and it’s a wonder they’re not freezing into tracks in the cold air.

When I thought about doing this trip, it occurred to me that I could bring some pages of Phoebe’s diary to scatter on the wind. But now the idea seems too melodramatic, so I stand there in
silence and remember her instead.

I remember her sitting on the grass in the park, making daisy chains to drape around my neck...

I remember her climbing up the rock wall in Sale, looking down at the rest of us with a deliriously proud grin on her face...

I remember her running into the bedroom that we shared in London and waggling her bottom at me, while wearing those damned unicorn knickers that we all fought over...

I remember her laughing...

I remember her crying...

I remember my sister, my beloved sister, one part of me, despite how different we were, and when I open my mouth to say goodbye, a sob comes out instead, and it’s Remy I turn to for
comfort.

‘Thank you for being here for me,’ I whisper. ‘I honestly don’t know how I would have coped doing this alone.’

‘I’m happy I had a chance to meet you, Rose. I really do wish you and your sister all the best. You can come back and see me anytime.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, but I know in my heart that it’s time to shut the book on this chapter.

I call Mum a couple of days later, before I leave Argentière.

‘I can’t believe it!’ she squawks down the phone, making me flinch. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that Eliza and Angus were together?’

In the midst of my own dramas, I’d forgotten the ones that were going on at home.

‘Has she told you, then?’ I say wryly.

‘She’s moving in with him! Into his room, not yours,
his
!’

I laugh. ‘I know, Mum.’

‘And you’re okay about it?’ she asks.

‘Yes, I’m okay about it,’ I confirm. Not happy, just okay. But I hope that will change with time.

‘Well, that’s something, at least.’

‘What did Judy say?’ I ask.

‘She’s very apprehensive,’ Mum replies, and I feel a pang of sympathy for Eliza because I know she was worried about Judy’s reaction. ‘I think she’s concerned
that Angus is trying to replace Phoebe, but—’

‘He’s not,’ I interrupt. ‘Who are we kidding? Phoebe can’t be replaced and Eliza is her own, unique person. Angus has always cared about her. And Phoebe knew it.
She understood it. In fact, she even felt a little bit guilty about it because she got to Angus first and she knew Eliza was heartbroken.’

‘You sound like you know an awful lot about it,’ Mum says, disconcerted.

More than I should, that’s for sure.

‘I just want everyone to be happy,’ I reply.

‘That’s good,’ she says. ‘Because I do, too. And,’ she adds, ‘so does Judy. She and Angus had a proper heart-to-heart and she’s given them her
blessing.’

I’m really pleased to hear it.

‘So,’ I say, changing the subject. ‘Have you been into the bakery lately?’

‘Oh, I meant to tell you!’ she exclaims. ‘I met Toby’s mother!’

‘You didn’t?’ I gasp.

‘I did! She was outside in the garden when I went to check on the plants. She seemed nice, if a little shy. She said to pass on her regards to you.’

I’m astonished. Delighted. And as soon as we hang up, I find myself calling Toby’s mobile.

‘You took your time about it,’ he says when I tell him it’s me, and the sound of his deep, dry voice makes me feel instantly jittery.

‘How are you?’ I ask with a smile. ‘I heard your mum has been into the bakery?’

‘Yeah,’ he says warmly. ‘It’s been pretty amazing, the turnaround.’

‘What happened?’ I ask.

‘I sort of lost it with her a few days after you left. Ended up shouting my head off.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah, I felt really bad about it at the time,’ he says heavily. ‘But, I don’t know, it seemed to spur her on. She seems determined to do what she can to get
better.’

‘I’m so pleased to hear it.’

‘It’s a lot down to you,’ he says seriously.

‘No, I didn’t do anything.’

‘You did. More than you know.’

We both fall silent and I hug my knees to my chest. I have to remind myself that nothing has changed – he’s still too young for me – but I can’t ignore how much
I’ve missed talking to him.

‘Where are you now?’ he asks.

‘I’m in Chamonix. Well, Argentière, the next village along. I’ve been here for a few days, but I’m going to Geneva tomorrow.’

‘How’s it been?’

‘Surprisingly therapeutic,’ I reply.

‘You thought it would be, right?’

‘I hoped, but I was worried I’d screwed up by coming here.’ He listens as I fill him in.

‘It’s so picturesque,’ I say. ‘You should see the view from my chalet.’

‘Send me a selfie of you on the balcony,’ he prompts.

‘Okay, I will do as soon as I get off the phone.’

In the background, I hear a couple of lads shouting.

‘Where are you?’ I ask, confused.

‘At the park,’ he replies.

‘Send me a selfie, too,’ I say before I can think better of it.

We end our call and I go out onto the balcony and hold my phone aloft, trying to catch the snowy, sunlit tops of the mountains in the background. I check the photo and press send, and a moment
later receive his.

He’s lying on the grass in the late afternoon sunshine. His face is bathed in a golden glow and his dark eyes have flecks of toffee-brown in them as he stares into the lens. I shiver.
Another text comes in from him, a response to the photo I sent.

‘Beautiful,’ he says.

I shiver again and force myself to put my phone away.

‘I don’t know what your problem is,’ Eliza says to me on the phone as I stand outside a shop in Geneva. I’ve been inside taking photos of shelves
bursting with cuckoo clocks, cowbells and penknives, and now I’ve just stupidly admitted that I can’t stop thinking about Toby.

‘He’s twenty-two, now, anyway,’ she comments. ‘They had balloons up when I went into
Jennifer’s
yesterday.’