by Ruth Ware
“I don’t want to go over all that again,” Topher says dismissively, as if the profit and loss sheets Rik just took us through were totally irrelevant. “We can all read a spreadsheet, and Rik made his points very ably. Before we head out, I think it would be really helpful to take an indicative vote, so we know where we stand.”
My breath quickens. The headache behind my eyes intensifies until the edges of my vision begin to fray.
“But, Topher,” Eva is saying, “you know perfectly well that we don’t have full information yet; that’s the point of this week, to weigh up all—”
“And it’s why I said indicative,” Topher interrupts, a touch of aggression creeping into his voice. “This is nonbinding, Eva. It’s just a show of hands to see where we are. It’s possible we’re already close to an agreement.”
Eva says nothing. She glances at me, and I know what she is thinking, and I know she can’t figure out how to head Topher off from this. He is like a mule when he puts his mind to something. He just pushes, and pushes, and pushes…
Elliot also says nothing, of course, but we all know what his silence means—support for Topher. It’s what it always means. Elliot doesn’t care about anything except for code. For everything else, he defers to Topher.
“Rik?” Eva says. Her tone is brittle.
“Why not?” Rik says. His acquiescence surprises me.
“So,” Topher says, in a slightly mollifying voice. “As before, in a nonbinding show of hands, who’s in favor of the buyout?”
“Me,” Rik says.
“And me,” Eva adds. There is a long silence, and I can feel the tension as they wait. When Topher speaks again, there is satisfaction in his tone, like a cat that’s got the cream.
“Great, and who’s against?”
“Me.” Elliot’s deep monotone makes the word sound like a full stop.
“And me, obviously,” Topher says. There is another pause, and then he says, as if attempting to sound more casual than he really is. “And… um, what’s your vote, Liz?”
I swallow. There is something hard stuck in my throat, and I realize that I haven’t spoken since I got up this morning. No one talked to me at breakfast. No one asked my opinion at the meeting. I don’t know if I can trust my voice when I speak.
“Liz?” Eva says. I can tell that she is trying not to pressure me, but at the same time, the edge in her tone shows clear.
“I—” There is a crack in my voice, it is croaky with disuse. I swallow again, vainly forcing down the obstacle that feels like it is choking me. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, Liz,” Rik says, and though he is trying to sound jolly and supportive, there is impatience in his tone as well. “You must have an idea of how you feel. Do you want twelve million, yes or no? It’s not a hard question.”
“Or,” Topher says, and the sharpness makes me flinch, “do you want shares worth potentially much more if we retain control and go public.”
“If we retain control and manage to remain solvent,” Rik shoots back.
“For fuck’s sake, Rik—” Topher snaps, and I feel the panic in my chest begin to explode like a slow but inexorable chemical reaction. Before it can escape, Eva stands up, holding out her hands, putting herself physically between them.
“Guys, guys, come on. We’ve got plenty of time to go through the question of a public offering, now’s not the time. Liz, am I to take it that you can’t give us an indication right now?”
I can’t bring myself to speak, I just make a swing of my head that could be yes, or could be no. Eva smiles, and crosses the room to take my hand. She squeezes it reassuringly, the scent of her perfume druglike and headily overwhelming in the small room.
“No problem, okay, well in view of that, I suggest we all head up to our rooms to get ready, and we can go through the issues Rik raised in more detail after lunch. Agreed?”
There are nods and murmurs of assent, and then Topher, Elliot, and Rik file out.
I stand up, my legs shaking, and I’m about to follow them when Eva stops me.
“Liz, hold up a second. Are you okay?”
I can’t speak for a minute, and then I manage.
“I’m—I’m sorry, Eva, I know we talked about this last night, and I promise, I am—I am going to do it—it’s j-just—”
“Of course,” Eva says, and she puts a hand on my arm. I think it’s meant to be reassuring, but the effect is to prevent me edging towards the door. “I completely understand.”
“It’s just—” I glance out the door, checking Topher isn’t within earshot. But he is gone, thank God. “It’s just, it’s hard to come out and say it, you know?”
“I get that. There’s a lot of loyalty between you. And I understand what you’re saying; he’s going to see it as a betrayal, no matter how reasonable your decision is.”
“I’m—” I swallow. The truth is I’m frightened, but I don’t want to say that to Eva. It sounds absurdly dramatic. “I’m just—”
Eva’s looking at me with concern, and I know why. She’s wondering if I will go through with our agreement. But I have made up my mind now. I grope again for that fatalistic peace that descended on me last night. I try to remember how it felt—that certainty, that calm resolve. My heart steadies a little. I can be as determined as Topher, when I make up my mind.
“You don’t need to worry,” I say, and my voice is stronger. “I’m not going to let you down. I just—I need to bite the bullet.”
Eva’s face clears, and she pats my arm sympathetically, giving it a little squeeze to show that we are in this together.
“Look, he’ll be pissed off,” she says. “I can’t pretend that’s not the case. And I can’t say I’m relishing this either. But he’ll get over it. He’ll understand.”
The thing is, he won’t. As we file out of the little room to change into ski clothes and get our stuff together, that’s what I realize. He definitely won’t understand. There is no way of seeing what I’m about to do as anything other than a huge betrayal. But I have no choice. That’s what I just have to keep telling myself. I have no choice. I have to see this through.
ERIN
Snoop ID: LITTLEMY
Listening to: Offline
Snoopers: 5
Snoopscribers: 10
“Right,” I call to the little group standing in front of the chalet, fiddling with bindings. “Let me explain the lay of the land a bit. The track in front of us, leading off to the left, is the one you took from the funicular railway. You can retrace your steps back up the hill, which would get you back to the funicular and the long blue run down into St. Antoine.”
“Blanche-Neige, right?” Topher puts in, and I nod.
“That’s right. It’s a really nice run. However, getting back up there would require a fair amount of sidestepping uphill, so assuming you want to ski out, the only downhill route is this path down through the woods.” I indicate a little path that winds along the side of the chalet and disappears through the pines behind us. “It leads onto the bottom of the green run, Atchoum, and from there to the Reine telecabine.”
“Telecabine?” Inigo asks, and I remember the Americans use different terms.
“Oh, sorry, the what-do-you-call-it. The bubble lift. Are there any complete beginners here?”
“M-me!” Liz calls, nervously. “I’ve only skied once before. Dry slope. I wasn’t very good.”
“Okay, well don’t worry, the path is a little bit steep for the first few meters but then it levels out and really all you’ve got to do is point your skis forward and slide the whole way. You can snowplow the first section if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend it, you want a bit of speed for the flat. I suggest the experienced skiers go first, then the snowboarders, you’re going to have a bit of trouble on the flat section, and then I’ll bring up the rear with anyone who’s slightly less confident. After the flat part the path joins the green piste and there’s a very gentle descent to the lift.”
“Give us a t
ow,” Topher says to Eva, with a grin, and she rolls her eyes and sticks a pole out behind her. I point them in the right direction and watch as they schuss off along the little narrow path between the trees. When they get to the flat, Eva breaks out into a beautiful skating motion, pulling Topher along behind her, and I watch her as she goes, her scarlet ski jacket flickering in between the trees. Whoever it was who described her as practically an Olympian is right; she’s a very good skier. Better than me, and I’m no slouch. Topher, from the way he handled the steep little descent at the beginning, not easy on a board, is evidently in his element.
Rik goes next, he’s clearly an experienced skier, even if he lacks Eva’s flair. Then Miranda, who snowplows the first steep section in defiance of my advice, grinds to a halt on the flat, and has to stump along looking embarrassed. I would guess she’s competent rather than excellent, probably knows the basics but is a little too cautious to be really good. Next comes Inigo in a grass-green jacket that somehow makes his azure eyes look even bluer. He swooshes down with an elegant economy and passes Miranda, kindly putting a hand in the small of her back to help her regain her momentum. He’s obviously been skiing since childhood, no mistaking that relaxed grace. Then Tiger, who turns out to be a very good snowboarder. She doesn’t have Topher’s advantage of a pull from Eva, but she makes it look easy.
Carl shoots off with a look of grim determination on his cherry-pink face that says, Fuck it, might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. He manages to get one ski stuck in a soft bank almost at once and falls over with a painful-sounding crunch, but he hauls himself up uncomplainingly, gets himself back in position, and this time makes it without incident. Next up is Ani. She is wearing a bright blue jacket and white salopettes that look fresh off the peg, and her buttercup hair is sticking out around her hood. The effect is somewhere between adorable toddler and children’s TV presenter. She gives me a wry smile.
“I maybe should have put my hand up as a complete beginner,” she says apologetically. “I’m really not very good!”
“Don’t worry,” I say encouragingly. “There’s literally nothing that can go wrong on this bit, and the advantage of a heavy dump of snow is that at least it’s soft when you fall over.”
She grins at me, shoves off with her poles, giving a little squeak of alarm as the path falls away, and she almost tips backwards in surprise, wheeling with her poles. But she regains her balance somehow, and with a laugh she’s off through the trees to where the others are waiting just out of sight.
Finally it’s just me and Liz. In contrast to Ani’s game enthusiasm she looks hot and stressed, and overdressed—she’s clearly wearing far too many layers for such a nice day and is already visibly sweating. I’m annoyed with myself for not checking the gear of the inexperienced skiers, but it’s probably better for her to be overdressed rather than under, and in any case, it’s too late to tell her to take some off. I’m just about to give her a pep talk when something strikes me.
“Hang on, where’s Elliot?”
“Oh,” Liz looks embarrassed. “Didn’t Topher tell you? He doesn’t really… join in.”
“Oh.” I’m surprised somehow. I kind of had the idea that Snoop was one of those companies where joining in wasn’t exactly optional. Carl certainly gave that impression. Liz must have read my expression.
“I know… He’s not the only person who’d rather be in their room, but somehow he’s the only one who gets away with it. But that’s what you get for being Topher’s best friend, I guess.”
“Have they known each other long?”
“They were at boarding school together,” Liz says. The talk is helping, I realize. She’s lost the look of pinched anticipation. “Along with Rik.”
“Christ, talk about the old boys’ network,” I say, before I can help myself, and then blush. Out here, in my salopettes, it’s harder to remember I’m Erin the ski chalet host, not just Erin the skier. But Liz doesn’t seem offended. She even gives me a very small smile.
“I know, right?” she says. Then she reddens, as if she’s been unspeakably daring.
Encouraged by her unbending slightly, I decide it’s time to go.
“Okay, well, we’d better catch up with the others. Are you ready? I’ll go in front, so don’t worry, you’re never going to get out of control. If you do, you’ll just slide gently into me.”
“I still…” Her face looks pinched again, staring at the narrow path with something like dread. “It just looks so steep.”
God, she really isn’t a natural skier. I make up my mind.
“I tell you what, give me your poles.”
She hands them over, obediently like a child, and I clamp them under one arm and stick my own out behind me.
“Now hold on to these, okay? Got it? One in each hand.”
She nods, and I push us off, very gently, using my thigh muscles to slow our descent.
With Liz’s weight behind me, pressing on my poles, the easy little schuss is much harder work than usual, but we make it to the flat, and I follow Eva’s example, skating along, pulling Liz behind me, listening to her panting breath.
At last we come out of the trees and glide down the slope to the bubble lift, where the others are waiting for us, standing just outside the turnstiles, underneath a painted wooden sign reading LA REINE TC.
“This lift is easy,” I say to Liz, reassuringly, under my breath. “No skiing on or off to worry about, you take your skis off and walk on.”
“Oh… phew.” Her expression clears a little bit, and then she glances up at the top of the mountain where the clouds are gathering. “What’s the rundown like?”
“There’s two stations. If you get off at the first station, it’s easy. You’re halfway up the mountain and you can pick either the green run, Atchoum, back down to the bottom of the lift, or the blue, which peels off down to St. Antoine le Lac. If you stay on the lift it goes right up to the top of the mountain. There are amazing views when it’s sunny but, well.” I wave my arm at the clouds that are already closing in. “Anyway, from the top station you have the choice of two runs, La Sorcière, which is a black run off to the left that follows the path of the lift, or the top part of Blanche-Neige. That’s a blue, but in poor conditions it can feel a bit more like a red. If you’re not very experienced, then I’d recommend sticking to the first station, just until you get the feel of your skis, anyway. You could always have a go at the second station after lunch.”
“Okay,” Liz says, and she looks up at the mountain, but I can feel her doubt from here. “Will you be with us all day?”
“Just for the first couple of runs. I’ll show you the way back to the chalet, and then I’m afraid I’ve got to go and help Danny with lunch.”
Liz says nothing at that, but from the way she clutches her ski poles like grim death, I can tell she’s not keen on being abandoned.
“It’ll be fine,” I tell her, with more assurance than I actually feel. “You’re not the only beginner, Ani isn’t very good, nor is Carl. And even Miranda doesn’t look very confident.”
Liz says nothing. She just unclips her bindings and pulls off her skis. But the look on her face is anything but happy.
LIZ
Snoop ID: ANON101
Listening to: Offline
Snoopers: 0
Snoopscribers: 0
It is almost noon. We have been skiing all morning. The wind is mounting. Erin disappeared back to the chalet long ago, leaving me alone with Topher and Eva and the other adrenaline junkies. We have done the green run, Atchoum, back to the bottom of the bubble twice, and a long blue down into St. Antoine, then back up the funicular. My legs feel like jelly with being continually on edge. My face is stinging with cold, and my armpits are damp with sweat inside my many layers. My breath comes fast, misting my scarf with wetness, and I am simultaneously freezing and much too hot.
We gather, panting at the bottom of the Reine lift, and I can hear the relief in Ani’s voice when she whispers, “Yay
! Lunch!”
And then Topher says, as I knew he would, “Come on, time for one more before we break for the afternoon. Let’s go up to the top of La Dame. Second stop on the bubble lift. Which of you pussies is with me?”
My heart begins thumping in my chest.
“Wouldn’t it be better to stop before we’re all too tired?” Miranda says. I can tell she does not want to do this, but she also doesn’t want to be the party pooper. “I mean, it’s the first day, and we’ve got all week to get skiing in.”
“I agree,” Ani says. She lifts her ski goggles. Beneath, her face is red and blotchy with a mixture of cold and exertion. She looks tired. “Plus, I just, like, really think it’s too big a run for me.”
“It’s a fucking blue,” Topher says dismissively. “Come on! It’ll be fun. There’s a black that peels off from the top, La Sorcière, and the blue is just the top section of that run we did before, Blanche-Neige. We can split into two groups and take whichever one you fancy. Blue for the babies, black for the big boys and girls.”
“Topher,” Eva says, wagging her finger, but her annoyance is pretend. She looks in her element, tall and slim on her improbably long skis. She is wearing a bright red ski jacket—scarlet silk that looks like a splash of blood against the white snow—and the sight gives me a weird pang, because I remember buying that jacket for her, back when I was her assistant. I got sent out to Harrods with her credit card and instructions to pick it up. I remember it so clearly, like it was yesterday.
I think, suddenly, of the fairy tale for which the blue run is named—Blanche Neige—Snow White. Skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, hair as black as ebony. The hair is wrong. Eva’s hair is almost as white as snow too. But today it is tucked into a black beanie, making the comparison almost spookily accurate.
“Come on…,” Topher cajoles. “We can’t get back from here to the chalet anyway, it’s all uphill, so unless you want an hour of sidestepping, we might as well go to the middle station. Just a little bit farther doesn’t make much difference… does it?” He lifts his goggles and turns the full force of his charm on Ani. “Ani? Give this old man one last wish?”
