by Karen Aldous
I so missed that crypto-energy he supplied. Sadly, I believed we both switched off that muggy August day. Forced to finally face reality. All that was left was to slowly watch the light in his eyes fade along with the breath from his lungs. That was a year ago this week, and the day I found out he had a secret.
‘Hurrah,’ Angie yelped as she steered the last of the less threatening bends and a cluster of chalets appeared. Beside the road, I read the sign. ‘Bienvenue La Tzoumaz.’
Chapter 2
Kim
Seeing Ginny’s name light up on my phone had momentarily jarred me as it had often done of late, since I’d been party to the unwelcome information. There’s nothing worse than having to swallow something unsavoury and not being able to handle it. I read the text. Mission control. I liked that. Ginny was right. This would be our headquarters for the next seven days. Aw, and sweet – a subtle reminder to get in the wine. At least Ginny was in good humour. She’d had a tough few years and deserved some serious fun. After some hectic months nursing at the Midland General in Perth, and trying to deal with the issue concerning Ginny, I was seriously in need of fun too and looking forward to seeing and sharing the experience as well as spending time with my old buddies.
The restaurant terrace was filled with skiers. The welcoming smell of Savoyard cheeses filled my nostrils, making my tummy rumble as the memory of the mini cheese fondue I ate last night enthused my taste buds. I’d skipped breakfast after gorging on so many delicious dishes in the hotel restaurant. ‘You taste,’ the Italian had urged, and had sent out relentless small plates containing cooked meats, pasta, fried aubergines, curried cabbage, shellfish and finally the one course I’d requested, a flavoursome Savoyard fondue. The perfect mountain food as far as I was concerned. My guilty pleasure. Warm, rich and indulgent.
I ignored a whiff of diesel fumes and even the view for a while. I took a sip of my wine and leant back on the chair to let the midday sun wash over my skin. I closed my eyes. Sleep was tempting but I was too excited. Nervous too. I mean, whilst I couldn’t wait to see my friends again, meeting Ginny face-to-face, knowing this was the opportunity to tell her what I knew, was terrifying, far worse than confronting Will about moving back to England. Worse even than confronting my drunk and violent father. Confrontation scared me, I’ve always feared conflict – but losing Ginny scared me more.
At first, I held back from relaying what I’d learned because I didn’t think Ginny would cope. She had not long returned from having such a lovely time with me at my home in Perth earlier this year and was still highly emotional after losing Mike; then when I did drum up the courage to tell her, I found out her company had made her redundant and she was desperately seeking work. When I rang, she was so low.
So, as the months went on, hearing from the girls how she had withdrawn, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I had to be with her. Her self-esteem had sunk so low. In fact, I then feared that if I told her after all that time, I would lose her friendship. She would hate me. The thought was unbearable. Ginny was special. It was surreal to think that I was going to hurt the one person who had virtually carried me throughout my younger days. A knot tied in my stomach every time I thought about it, and when this trip was organised, and I knew I would see her, I made up my mind that it was my opportunity to sit her down, face-to-face.
Startled by that fact, I opened my eyes, catching sight of my T-shirt. The Flowers, such a great acronym; they would be here soon. I checked the time on my phone and like a meerkat jumped up, with wine in hand, taking a few steps over to where I could see, and peered up the road.
Ginny
Emerging before us were cute wood and stone chalets blanketed in snow, scattering the landscape among modern concrete and newer, wooden high-end chalets, with glass gable walls. Despite the hostility of the roaring grey rocks, I was surprised to see a glowing sunny village populated with traffic and people bustling around with bags, cases or skis. The pretty scene began melting my fears and as we slowed and inched closer, I saw a young family, rosy-cheeked and bursting with vigour and laughter, strolling alongside our car.
‘It’s so vibrant,’ I said, feeling the glare of all the surrounding snow hit my eyes. I pulled down my sunglasses. ‘And busy. I can’t believe the number of cars that are here.’
Lou looked over with a reassuring glint in her eye before pulling down a pair of Ted Bakers off her head and setting them on her nose. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’
I smiled back.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll barely see any cars tomorrow,’ Angie said. ‘It’s change-over day so they’ll all be parked up by tonight. You may get some locals drive up in the morning.’
‘It’s not what I imagined,’ Cathy added, opening her window and blasting the neat line of her bobbed hair. ‘I thought we would be in a lonely little hamlet with only chamois for company.’
I raised my arms and stretched out, whacking Lou on the arm. ‘Sorry, Lou! Me too. Isn’t it strange how you build a picture in your mind – but there’s plenty of life here by the look of it.’
‘And wine.’ Lou’s pearly-white teeth beamed at me. ‘I can’t wait. You look considerably more awake now. You OK?’
‘Yes. Thank you, again.’ I smiled. Lou had asked so many times, and so many times I’d nearly caved in. That was why I found it easier to be on my own at home. I didn’t have to answer their questions, deal with the fussing. I didn’t want my thoughts and privacy invaded. I was safe and not forced to talk about Mike because I really didn’t know who Mike was anymore. Maybe I was afraid that one of them would tell me the truth about him. I don’t know that I wanted to hear it. I was safer on my own. I could think and torment myself without being questioned or judged. And no one could judge Mike because his behaviour wasn’t up for discussion.
Although, I feared, this week with friends, my emotions could tumble out so easily. And while my friends would understand, what would be the point? We were on holiday. I would only dampen their enthusiasm and they were so fired up, however anxious they were about skiing for the first time – apart from Angie, of course.
And what difference would it make to them if they did know about Mike? It was my problem – why would I put myself through the humiliation? He was gone, and nothing was going to change what he did. I sighed, feeling in desperate need of that wine.
‘What is that huge building there?’ I asked spotting a monstrous concrete structure with lots of steps.
Angie didn’t even look up. ‘That’s got to be the lift station. That’s where we get the gondola, the lift to the top. And just along here on our left we should see Kim. Ah, is that her?’
Kim
A spectacle of hands waving from a car window immediately gave them away. I hurriedly placed my wine on the table beside the other glasses and the two waiting bottles and rushed to the side of the road, waving like a moron. People sitting at the tables must have thought: stupid old woman. Nothing new. I giggled to myself. Will and my girls think that about me too.
I got to the car as it stopped beside the Belleview, and gigantic bees with white teeth gazed back at me from the open windows; my friends in their designer sunglasses, no doubt prescription, like mine. I chortled to myself. Opening Angie’s door, then Ginny’s behind her, I laughed out loud at our matching Flowers T-shirts.
‘Welcome, Flowers!’ I steadied Ginny as she clambered out, wriggling her newly worked-out body into operation.
‘Aw, great to see you,’ I screamed and hugged her. ‘You look amazing.’
Ginny fell into my arms. ‘Oh my God!’ she said, with a wobble. ‘Whoa, a bit stiff. You too.’ It was good to feel her squeezing me. Her eyes scanned me as she stepped back and added, ‘Wow, you’ve knocked a few years off.’
I smiled, pleased with myself. ‘Thanks. Just hope I’ve done enough.’
‘Sorry we couldn’t get here earlier. Have you been OK on your own?’
‘Ace, but much happier now you’re all here,’ I said as she stacked my
arms with her coat and hand luggage. ‘I stayed at La Poste up there. Never eaten so much in my life. The bloke who runs it is Italian and just kept feeding me – every dish in his kitchen I reckon.’
Ginny laughed, took her coat and slipped into it, then threw her tote bag over her head before aligning it on her hip. She appeared relaxed, which undid some tension from the back of my neck. I greeted Cathy and Lou, then Angie, observing they too had worked out and were in good shape. I was happy to see them all again as it had been Mike’s funeral when I’d made my last – very brief – visit and it wasn’t the best time for a proper get-together. Their excitement at seeing me was quickly forgotten however when Cathy shrieked at the panoramic view from the terrace.
‘I’ll just go and park up,’ Angie told me, waving her hand to make sure I’d heard.
I nodded and made my way back to the table. The girls herded behind me and began rejoicing again when they realised our table offered a front-seat spectacle of the valley. Ginny began pouring the red wine into their glasses and handing them around. She topped mine up. ‘Great spot, Kim,’ she said, joining Cathy by the glass veranda.
‘Perfect, this view is to die for and you’re a saint, Kim,’ Lou said, lifting the other bottle. ‘Just what we’ve all been gasping for. Well, in Ginny’s case, dribbling for.’
Ginny turned her head. ‘Err … yes. I must have been dreaming of wine in the car.’ She turned back to Cathy and the view.
I picked up my refilled glass, my heart content they were finally here despite their distraction. I couldn’t blame them. I’d spent the last hour soaking up the exact same beautiful scene. The snow-filled valley was stunning, particularly whilst sipping the sumptuous local wine. I could feel my adrenaline pumping, imagining the week ahead, spending time with them. I took a mouthful of wine as I watched them – that wonderful upbeat cheer and palpable love for one another that I missed so much; it set me wondering what it would take to persuade Will to move back to England. I didn’t want to end up at loggerheads with him again, but I didn’t think it was unreasonable or selfish to want to discuss it, and at least have a plan in place; whether it was potentially two years or ten years away, I needed to know it would happen.
‘Oh, it’s gorgeous, Kim,’ Ginny said turning to me. ‘Not what I envisaged at all. And it’s so warm.’
‘Couldn’t be happier,’ I said.
‘I know, it’s so good to see you. Did you see Mai?’
I squealed. ‘Yes, she looks so well, and after her wobbly start at Mantero – totally self-induced, she admits – she’s settling in well. She’s working with a team on some vintage silk ideas apparently. It all sounds terribly romantic but she’s working hard.’
Ginny put her arm around me. ‘It’s been her dream. I’m so pleased to hear that. And does she like Milan?’
‘Yeah, she’s finding her way around. Sharing an apartment with an English girl so they’re also sharing an Italian tutor. She’s pretty conversant but he’s helping her on the business terminology. Overall, she’s doing great. I really miss her though.’
‘Aww, I can imagine. Well, if you want to be in Europe for a few months, you know you are always welcome to stay.’
‘Don’t tempt me, Ginny!’
I was just about to ask how she was when Cathy called us for a photo. We scuttled across the wall, my mind still whirling.
Will thought I was overly nostalgic for Kent and our friends. Although he got to know them all and their partners when we began our relationships and married life, I couldn’t expect him to ever really appreciate how much the girls meant to me, especially Ginny and her family. No explanation could really describe what I felt for the girls, but it was a major obstacle that held Will and I back from setting off for Australia back in the day. It took Will five years and a lot of persuasion to get me there. Of course, I loved him so much I didn’t want to deny him the opportunity that called him to Oz, but I did push him to agree to return to Kent at least once a year for a holiday and of course to see our friends. And us girls had made a pact to write often.
Over time, he began to appreciate just how much Ginny, and the others had saved me as a young girl, preventing me from falling into a pit of despair. None of my friends in Australia came anywhere near close to these guys and I cared for them greatly. I was particularly concerned for Ginny right now. I really wanted to be there for her, to repay her, especially now she was on her own.
I was attracted to nursing because I was a natural carer. I liked to help. It probably stemmed from being the oldest child of four and trying to protect my siblings and my mum from the vicious man who was our dad. Before we escaped his wrath and bullying to the safety of Kent, Mum had ended up in hospital for three months with head and neck injuries and we were put into care. Dad was finally arrested. I was only eleven, my sister Paula nine, my brothers, eight and six. The authorities wanted to split us up until, that is, Ginny’s mum heard about us. Her friend was a foster carer who took us all in for a few days until our fate was decided, but she already had three children of her own.
Ginny was an only child and her parents’ house had two spare bedrooms, so amazingly they agreed to take us in voluntarily until Mum fully recovered in a Kent hospital nearby. Our dad was never told of our whereabouts. I did all I could to help Madeline, Ginny’s mum. I took as much responsibility as I could for my siblings. I was so grateful and I loved Ginny and her parents so much for the kindness and love they gave us.
I then helped Mum to move into the house. That was in August. In September, I started at the grammar along with the girls. Fortunately, I could get the bus with them as my stop was just one away further down the village. Mum was so much happier. Like us, she put on some weight, found a local job, although the hours were long. I was always rushing off the bus to collect my sister and brothers from the village school, but I had Ginny’s parents’ help. Luckily for us, we settled quickly in the village with a fresh start. Naturally, after that, all I ever wanted to do was care for people and ensure they were safe. Particularly Ginny. Even though we lived miles apart, my love and loyalty for Ginny, her family and friends never faltered. I only wished I could have been around physically to help with Mike. And now she was on her own, it would mean so much to me to return home and support her as much as she did me.
I watched as Ginny and Cath continued marvelling at the view. I sidled up to Lou. ‘Spectacular, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, amazing. I love it here already.’
Lowering my voice, I was keen for an update. ‘How is Ginny?’
Lou bit her lip and, staring down at her glass, spoke almost in a whisper. ‘Oh gosh, who knows with Ginny. Getting there I think. She’s not herself though, is she? High one minute, low the next. I can’t tell whether it’s the thought of skiing or the anniversary that’s worrying her. I’ve asked, but she says she’s fine.’
In front of us, Ginny got out her phone and wandered along with Cathy to a low wall to take photographs.
‘Mm. I’m worried,’ I said, raising my voice a little. ‘It must be hard, obviously. Neither of us knows how she feels. How can we? We’ve not lost a husband. But … has she mentioned anything else?’ I asked, digging to find out if Ginny had learned about Mike’s infidelity and if she had confided in Lou.
Lou shook her head. ‘Not to me, no. Like I said, she says she’s fine. Doesn’t want to leave home much despite our efforts. Hasn’t really opened up to any of us except to say she’s lonely but feels she’ll get used to it.’
‘I’m sure she is. I feel so useless. Hopefully we’ll have a chat. I can’t help wondering if she is in some sort of denial.’
Lou ran her fingers through her newly styled wispy hair. ‘Exactly my thoughts. When Mum and Dad died in that accident in Spain I was the opposite. I needed people around me. These guys were great, and they helped me so much. Ginny was amazing. I get the impression at some point her mask will crack. I think losing her job shook her just as much as Mike’s death. More maybe. I suspect she ha
d time to come to terms with Mike’s death during the last few months of his life; the redundancy was a jolt she wasn’t prepared for at all. And not to tell us for two months. I don’t know why she holds everything in.’
Taking a large mouthful of wine, I almost spluttered. ‘Me neither – shocking, wasn’t it? The irony is, she is amazing with our problems, but not her own. I only heard when Cathy emailed me. And, not wanting to push Ginny about it, I waited, thinking she would be in touch that day, but I rang her the following morning. It’s heart-wrenching when our friend is too embarrassed to even tell us. I mean, she had just arrived back from Australia when she received the letter. I would have been straight on the phone to her if it were me. And redundancy is a normal occurrence in this economic climate. It’s nothing to be ashamed about – though I guess she’d been there so long, and after Mike’s passing, I don’t suppose she ever imagined the company would do that to her.’
Lou pulled her collar up around her neck, no doubt acclimatising to the shorter hair, ‘I know, we were all surprised at that, but trying to hide it, to have us believe she was just changing jobs, I did wonder what was going through her mind. I think it got worse for her when she began applying for jobs believing doors would be wide open. Being repeatedly turned down, with her experience in marketing, I imagine it ripped her confidence ragged. Sadly, she’s not at all happy in her new job. Apparently, there’s very little, if any, number crunching or marketing analysis, which she loved in her old job – the stats, the charts. She does like her figures as you know, but the company rely solely on advertising and PR to get their brand out there. Seems a bit odd in this day and age, especially with all the data available. She said she would have normally brought it to their attention, but it’s not her place to tell them how to run their company. I can’t help wondering if her lack of confidence is affecting her judgement. Either that or her heart just isn’t in it.’
