The view was worth the wait. When Laura opened her eyes nine and a half hours later, she felt her soul shift at the glimpse of Alpine majesty that could be seen through the gap where she’d parted the curtains. She padded over the carpet and opened up the panorama, drawing back the curtains as if she was rolling back a world map. Below a deep blue sky, a scooped-out bowl was crested with jagged peaks, its sides streaked with miles of vertical runs.
To her delight, Laura saw she had a balcony and she grabbed the bathrobe from the end of the bed. Wrapping herself in it tightly and pulling on a pair of red- and navy-striped fleecy bed socks, she unlocked the doors and stepped out.
The cold was as breathtaking as the scenery and she shivered, pushing her hands deeply into her pockets as her eyes soaked up the view. It was as different from the flat, grey Suffolk landscape as it was possible to be, and it looked like the snow forecasts had been correct – there was foot upon foot of fresh powdery snow.
She looked down and saw that beneath her balcony was another that spanned the width of the chalet outside the sitting room, and a further three smaller balconies on the level below that. And to think she’d thought this place poky when they’d arrived!
She turned and leant back against the verandah to get a better look at what was, for a few short days, anyway, home.
‘Morning.’
Startled, she looked to her right. Rob was sitting at a small table reading his paper on the neighbouring balcony, which appeared to wrap round the corner of the building, ensuring he got the sun from the east and the south. An espresso was steaming before him, sending tiny tendrils of warmth into the cold December sky, and he was already wearing his ski kit – gunmetal-grey trousers and a black thermal top.
‘Hi.’
‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Like you wouldn’t believe,’ she said as it hit her for the first time that she hadn’t woken once. She frowned. ‘In fact, I don’t think I moved,’ she said, puzzled.
‘Well, that’s got to be a good thing, right?’ he asked, watching her baffled expression.
‘I’m just . . . not very used to it, that’s all.’
‘Poor sleeper?’
‘The worst.’
‘Me too,’ he nodded.
Laura shook her head. ‘I bet my insomnia’s worse.’
‘Is it a competition?’ he asked wryly, going back to his paper.
Laura turned back to face the view again. ‘It looks like you’re going to have an ideal day for skiing,’ she said, searching vainly for clouds.
‘Yes. Chilly, though. We’ll have to watch for ice.’
Laura looked back at him. ‘You must know the runs here really well.’
‘Like the back of my hand,’ he said, looking up at the frosted horizon. ‘That’s my favourite over there – Les Attelas. It’s got some couloirs that are pretty extreme.’
She felt a shiver ripple through her. ‘Do you do blacks?’
He chuckled, amused. ‘Yes.’
‘Off piste?’
‘Mainly.’
‘Oh.’ She looked over at the balcony on her other side. Alex and Isabella’s. The curtains were firmly shut and she wondered whether they were still sleeping or just not getting out of bed.
‘So, what’s your itinerary today?’ Laura asked, wondering when she could grab people between skiing sessions.
Rob put down his paper, folding it in half. ‘Well, we’ll do a couple of the local runs first thing, just to let everyone find their legs. Then we’re going to take the helicopter round to some of the drops on the back.’
‘You’ve got a helicopter?’
‘No,’ he smiled. ‘It’s just a charter. Three hours’ heli-skiing.’
Just a charter. She thought she was being flash when she hailed a cab.
‘Then ski back, pop into town if we need to, get here late afternoon and allow everyone some R&R before Orlando’s dinner tonight.’
‘Does he know yet?’
Rob shook his head. ‘We’ll keep it quiet till we’re all dressed and having drinks. Sam thought it would be fun to do Secret Santas as well.’
‘Oh?’
‘We’re pulling names out of a hat at breakfast and it’s confidential who you get. Also, you’re not allowed to spend more than five euros,’ he said, shaking his head in dismay as though he didn’t think it possible to spend so little money. He pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. ‘Anyway, you’d better get dressed. You’ll freeze out here in just that. I’ll see you downstairs.’
‘Sure,’ she said, watching him disappear into his room and feeling no more enlightened as to the structure of her day than she had a few minutes ago. When was she supposed to grab everybody for their interviews? And would they really want to talk about Cat when they’d spent the day jumping out of helicopters and bombing down mountains? This might not be as easy as he’d led her to believe.
Everybody was already seated at the long table when Laura came down forty minutes later. Half that time had been spent trying to turn the shower on, the other half convincing herself to finally come out again. She’d have stayed in for hours if she could. After her complete night’s sleep and the deep steam clean, she felt positively glowing.
She self-consciously pulled her belted cardigan tighter into her waist as everyone looked up at her approach.
‘Morning,’ David said in a jolly voice as he reached over for the freshly squeezed orange juice, his BlackBerry next to his water glass.
‘Laura, I saved you a place!’ Kitty called, patting the empty seat next to her.
Sam shot Kitty a look.
‘Morning, everyone,’ Laura mumbled as she sat down, aware of Alex opposite her, staring.
‘Sleep well?’ he asked, passing her a glass of juice.
Laura nodded without meeting his eyes.
‘Honestly, I was tempted to sleep on my floor,’ Kitty said through a mouthful of porridge sprinkled with sesame seeds, honey and chopped banana. ‘Have you seen the sheepskin rugs in my room? I could lose one of the kids in them – like a gateway to Narnia or something. Actually, there’s an idea . . .’ she chuckled, making Cat, who was sitting next to Sam, shake her head fondly.
‘You look like you slept well, Laura,’ Cat smiled, spearing a slice of kiwi fruit.
‘So well, thanks.’
‘Can you pass the butter, Kit?’ Rob asked.
Sam, dressed in a black all-in-one ski suit that she had rolled down to her waist, held a solitary cup of black coffee in her pale hands. Her hair flamed dramatically against her clothes, although she looked washed out and had dark circles under her eyes. Orlando was sitting next to her, looking just as bad, although just as chic in navy.
‘What time did you two go to bed last night?’ Isabella asked, merriment playing on her lips.
Orlando groaned. ‘Four.’
David rolled his eyes and began scrolling down through his BlackBerry with a thumb, spooning his Frosties in with the other hand.
‘You’re not going to make us do Les Attelas, Rob?’ Orlando pleaded. ‘Tell me you will be kind.’
Rob shrugged. ‘If you want to come all this way to play on the nursery slopes, Orlando, it’s up to you.’
‘You and I could chat, if you’re not up to skiing yet,’ Laura said hopefully, trying not to get Cat’s attention.
Sam looked at Laura, then placed a hand on Orlando’s arm. ‘Stick with me, Orly. We’ll get round together – somehow.’
Orlando shrugged back at her. ‘Later, definitely, Laura – okay?’
Laura nodded and reached for the kiwi fruit.
‘Right, well, seeing as we’re all here, it’s time to pull names out of hats,’ Kitty said, reaching behind her and putting a small cardboard box on the table. ‘I’ve put everyone’s name in, so just pass it round and pull one out. Obviously, if you get your own name, put it straight back in, please, and take another.’
‘Yes, Mum,’ Sam said as Kitty passed the box to David on her other side.
Laura waited for it to go round the table. She would be the last to pull a name out and she hoped to goodness she got Orlando or Kitty. At least she knew them a little.
Sam. Dammit. Tucking it into her pocket, Laura reached for a croissant.
‘Aren’t you skiing today?’ Isabella asked Laura from the other end of the table, her eyes flicking down to Laura’s jeans.
‘I don’t ski,’ Laura replied briskly before Sam could say it for her.
‘Actually, I’ve arranged for you to have a private lesson this morning,’ Rob said, sitting back as Gemma, the older maid, refilled his tea. ‘You really can’t come all the way out here and not even give it a go.’
‘But . . .’ She only just stopped herself from saying she was working. ‘I don’t have any kit with me,’ she said lamely.
‘You can borrow some of mine,’ Cat offered. ‘I keep loads of kit out here. Half of it I’ve never even worn.’
‘No, I couldn’t,’ Laura cried, dismayed.
‘Laura, it’s fine. They’re just clothes. I wear them a couple of times a year and we’re about the same size.’
Laura didn’t know how else to keep protesting without appearing rude. She could see Sam shooting ‘get her’ looks at everyone across the table.
‘I’ve booked Mark for you,’ Rob continued. ‘He’s excellent – we always use him. He’ll be here at nine o’clock. You usually have to meet at the Médran lifts, but seeing as you don’t know the area, he’s going to come here to get you.’
‘Thank you . . .’
Kitty nudged her with her elbow as conversation around the table resumed. ‘Lucky you,’ she murmured. ‘Cat’s told me about him. Apparently, he’s gorgeous.’
Laura nodded miserably. She didn’t care what he looked like.
A ring at the door had Rob, David and Alex out of their seats in a shot. ‘Right, that’s our driver,’ Rob said, throwing down his napkin as Sam and Orlando dropped their heads into their arms. ‘Come on, look lively.’
Kitty and Isabella pushed their chairs out, and Kitty squeezed Laura’s arm conspiratorially. ‘Enjoy!’ she whispered, her eyes glittering excitedly.
Rob looked across at Laura. ‘We’ll see you back here later. Mark will come and collect you in about half an hour, as I said.’
‘Grab whatever you want from my room,’ Cat smiled, rising like the sun to reveal chocolate-brown silk leggings and a matching polo neck. ‘Honestly. It’s better it gets worn than not.’
‘Thank you,’ Laura murmured, wondering how Cat managed to make knee-length socks look so good as she made out the lines of a tiny thong on her retreating bottom. She listened to the stomp of ski boots being stamped on in the porch and watched Sam slide her arms into the rest of her suit. It had a belt and fur collar on it, and she controlled her unruly hair with an extravagant wide fur headband. She looked just like a Bond Girl. Laura looked over at Isabella, who, in a matt silver belted jacket and skinny white trousers, looked like a model, and at Kitty in her royal blue and orange . . . Well, Kitty looked like a farmer’s wife – on planks.
‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ Sam said archly.
‘Well now, that doesn’t leave very much to do, does it, Sam?’ Kitty said, pushing her through the door.
‘Ciao, bella,’ Orlando sighed wearily.
‘Take it easy, Orlando. You really don’t look so good,’ Laura said sympathetically
‘Why do I do it to myself?’ he asked, throwing his hands up in the air and stomping towards the door. ‘Is not like I am young any more. You know, this is what it is to grow old, Laura! The body decaying—’
‘Your body is not decaying, Orlando!’ Laura chuckled. ‘It’s the most undecayed body I’ve ever seen.’
‘Yes?’ he asked hopefully.
Laura nodded. ‘Really.’
‘No! You are being kind. You don’t—’
‘ORLANDO!’ Sam bellowed from outside. ‘Get your arse in here now or we’re going without you!’
Orlando heaved a sigh of regret and, saluting her, left.
Laura smiled. Poor Orlando – he really was a lover, not a fighter. She listened to the sound of the car pulling away, wondering how to get out of the mess she was in. Skiing in Verbier was just about as bad as it got.