Five Ladies Go Skiing

by Karen Aldous

  I’d gasped as I walked in. It was the biggest bedroom I had ever seen, with small, paned, cottage-style windows on two walls draped with pink gingham pelmets and curtains. It was the sort of image I had only ever seen in films or posh magazines at my doctor’s. The clean white walls were decorated with lots of pink-framed pictures and matching shelves, which made it look so pretty and feminine. And, the toys – so beautifully arranged around the room and on tidy shelves.

  I was envious, of course, what little girl wouldn’t be witnessing all this material wealth, but I realised Ginny must have been so loved and cherished by her parents that they cared enough to provide it all. I kept making ooh, ah and wow sounds; I was so overwhelmed. She had everything I could ever dream of. Everything any little girl could dream of. Gold-edged white bedroom furniture, a whole double bed to herself with bright fresh pink and white linen, fluffy cushions, lamps on her bedside table, soft pink sheepskin rugs, a white desk with a large round pot filled with felt-tip pens, a little notebook wrapped in pale pink tissue paper, a white bookshelf with rows of Enid Blyton titles, and then, I remembered letting out another gasp, the tall Sindy house. Three Sindy dolls and Paul. All the furniture lovingly positioned and to one side, stables and horses in fenced paddocks with saddles, reins brushes. Everything a girl could possibly wish for. It seemed I’d drifted into another world. She even had a Sindy wardrobe filled with every outfit for Sindy and Paul.

  ‘There’s a lot of pictures of Sindy on here, look,’ Ginny said now, turning her mobile around.

  I leaned over to see her phone. ‘Oh, wow, brings back memories. Such happy days, Gin.’

  ‘You were like a new toy to me,’ Ginny said. ‘A full-time playmate arriving was pretty cool.’

  ‘Yes, we were all jealous,’ Lou said, fiddling with her nails.

  Cathy threw her chin up. ‘You speak for yourself. I wasn’t. Kim loved being showered with all my old books.’

  ‘Mine were always in better condition than yours.’ Lou beamed.

  ‘Darling, that’s because you didn’t bloody read them.’

  Ginny peered up momentarily from her phone. ‘Now, now, girls,’ she said, sounding like their mother.

  She always liked to keep the equilibrium. Barely a mean bone in her body, Ginny’s generosity rarely faltered. I never once got the impression she was spoiled. Paula and I played for hours in her room over the months we were there. Even the boys, my two little brothers. Although her dad wasted little time in whisking my brothers along to the toy shop in the town to buy Lego and Meccano sets along with model aeroplanes. I think it excited him as much my brothers to shop and spend time with one another, building all sorts.

  I don’t recall my dad doing anything like that with any of us. Just those few months at Ginny’s showed us what being a normal family meant. I think we took that to our new home with us and their example helped us reorder our lives. Not so much financially, as Mum could never earn that sort of income and provide as much materially, but our house became a loving home for the first time.

  Still staring at the phone, I heard the rustle of an apron and a young waitress beside me. ‘Gamay?’ she said. I snatched a look. She was petite and smiley with short black-dyed hair and brought a tray with large carafes of both wine and water with tumblers and wineglasses. She set the glasses by our placemats and poured both drinks. My eyes returned to the photos.

  Ginny looked up from her phone and caught me staring but I was miles away. ‘I’m amazed that there are so many of these dolls still around,’ she said. ‘We gave all mine to charity, but I remember thinking it would have been lovely to have kept them for my Rachel to play with when she was younger.’ She closed her phone and her lips curled up. ‘I have such fond memories of when we used to play dolls in my room. I know you weren’t there that long, but it was nice to feel what it would be like to have sisters and brothers around. I used to pretend you were my sister.’

  My eyes instantly stung. ‘You’ve never told me that before.’

  ‘No. I haven’t thought of it for ages.’ Her mouth twitched as she stared at the table. ‘I suppose being on your own again makes you appreciate what you had. It’s surprising how much time you can fill thinking about the past. I seem to have done a lot lately. Mike, Ross and Rachel. You girls. How the years have whizzed by.’

  I watched as she breathed out a large sigh. I wanted to go around the table and hug her. ‘Well, as long as we’re on this earth, you’ll have us. Your Flowers.’

  ‘I know, I don’t know what I would have done without you all.’

  I blinked back tears. ‘I miss you all so much, especially now the girls have grown up. Since Mike’s funeral and you coming to Oz, I’ve thought more and more about what old age means to me and where I want to be. Fit and well obviously, but I long to be near you guys. The thing is, most of our friends in Oz are really Will’s friends – doctors and their wives, partners. The girlfriends I have in Australia are not what I call my real friends. I have Nealy next door, and Marnie who you’ve met, but we don’t have the strong bond and the kind of relationship us girls have.’

  Ginny winced, concern in her eyes. ‘I get where you’re coming from. I sympathise. It’s not an easy position to be in.’

  ‘Tell me about it. I’d retire tomorrow. My plan is to move back as soon as I can … or we can, I should say. I wish Will wasn’t so in love with his work. I’m ready to say goodbye to mine. Take my money and return to my bestie Pommie friends and have some fun.’

  Cathy clapped her hands. ‘That would be amazing. And the twins are this way, so other than Will’s mindset, there’s nothing to hold you there. You’d both have good pensions.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be great to all get together more?’ Lou added.

  ‘Exactly,’ I said and peered up to see the tall waitress with several small plates of salad balancing on her arms. ‘I don’t think anyone ordered a starter,’ I told her, seeing Christoff signalling with his bushy eyebrows and nodding.

  Ignoring me, she continued placing the plates on the tablemats. ‘Everyone has a starter,’ she said laying the last one in front of me. ‘Sergio insists. The vegetable is good for the digestive system.’

  Put in my place, I grimaced as the others around the table laughed. ‘Ace. Well, in that case, I’m sure we can manage a small salad.’ It was a mix of lettuce, cabbage and carrot with vinaigrette.

  Christoff waited until the woman was out of earshot. ‘You learn not to argue with Katja. Her bark is worse than bite. In there, is a warm heart.’

  Like me, Ginny, Lou, Cathy and Angie snorted with their faces down and returned their attention to their salads. We were just like kids again, I thought.

  ‘I like this village, everyone wants to feed you,’ Lou said. I couldn’t disagree.

  Although the salad was basic, the venison was lovely; a tad salty for my taste but rich and something different too. Even the men, who had been served after us, had finished theirs before Cathy had finished. She slowly chomped away on her cheese-covered aubergine. Angie ordered another bottle of Gamay from Katja, which was delivered with two additional bottles by the younger waitress.

  ‘A gift from Christoff, Tom, Florian and Neil,’ she said in a broken accent, which may have been West Slavic. I wasn’t sure. We each gazed at one another, grinning, and then thanked our wine donors. This place only got better and better, I thought as I filled glasses around the whole table, inviting the men to draw their chairs closer. It was only fair we shared it as the men had so generously funded it. The wine flowed as we chatted, getting to know our instructor and his friends. Angie seemed to be getting closer and flirtier with Christoff and I spotted her squeezing his knee.

  I spoke to Florian, another instructor who, already balding, had a young-boyish wide face but attentive eyes. He told me he was forty-one and proudly boasted about his wife and children who lived in the valley below. His family photos brought a smile to my face; seeing his children riding their bikes, prompted fond memories of our fa
mily photos of the twins cycling. I was also interested to see his pretty wife, smiling with dark bushy hair, busy he told me, not only with the children, but also with working several days a week in her family furniture business. He preferred to be outdoors fencing and farming their land in the summer and here in the village with his retired mother weekdays in the winter. At seventy-two, she still loved to ski, he said with an endearing roll of his eyes.

  Tom, who I guessed was a few years older than Florian, also lived in the valley with his family and worked as an instructor, so they travelled up together and shared costs. Tom had skied at Olympic level for Switzerland several years ago with Christoff, before Christoff married the village beauty. They had all skied since childhood. Hearing this, Tom tuned into the conversation and stopped talking to Neil. Ginny, Lou and Cathy joined us as both instructors keenly relayed stories of their skiing and country.

  Neil sat quietly, listening. Several times I caught him staring at Ginny, but I also observed Ginny snatching glimpses at him, admiring his mature good looks too, no doubt. I then got excited as I watched Neil stand up and lift his chair to the end of the table to sit beside her. Christoff kindly passed his wineglass down as Neil began chatting.

  How marvellous would that be, I thought to myself: for Ginny to fall in love again. Ginny was still beautiful inside and out and it would be crazy for her not to find happiness again. For one, she was looking super-hot for someone almost sixty. Not that she ever let herself go. But as I’d found, Angie’s diet and fitness programme that she had designed for us all, which she very kindly included me in – sending me emails and videos, the aerobic workouts, muscle building with weights and lots of squats – has added so much more definition to us all. Not to mention all the health benefits.

  I’d been really impressed, though not surprised. Angie had such a big heart and worked very hard to make the best of this trip, organising it and making sure we were properly prepared. She even monitored our progress, motivating us to make sure our bodies were in the best condition to ski, plus advising us on all the right clothes to bring. Fitness had been her life and it showed. Even she looked fitter than ever.

  Watching her inch up to the younger and fitter Christoff, you would never guess there was over twenty years between them. He was clearly excited by her and, gauging by their closeness and body language, there was no doubt both were getting rather hot under the collar. I wasn’t the only one noticing either; Cathy and Lou were staring too. Christoff, who I now knew was married, was overtly flirting too. I wasn’t sure how far Angie would go. I mean, did she flirt with the guys at her gym? Surely not on this scale. Unless, and I thought back to my and Will’s arguments lately, there was friction in her marriage. Rob was a lovely man but knowing that long ago he affectionately called her the ‘nymph’ and how much effort she puts into keeping herself looking young, maybe they were struggling to find mutual ground. Surely I wasn’t the only one finding it uncomfortable to watch though. I felt compelled to intervene and sidled up beside her. A proper killjoy perhaps but, I supposed, one illicit affair among my friends was one too many for me to cope with.

  ‘Angie, Flower,’ I said, ‘shouldn’t we be headed back? We have an early start tomorrow, remember.’

  Peering at her watch, Angie shook her head. ‘A little early yet – it’s only ten. Relax, Kim.’

  I peered at Lou who showed a look of disapproval too.

  How could I relax?

  Chapter 9

  Ginny

  Several times I’d felt Neil staring my way and I couldn’t help wondering if he was a womaniser. It was nice that he came over to chat though. He had a quiet reserve about him I liked, and I was fascinated by his sparkling intelligent eyes, the way his strong brows and full hairline shaped his rugged face as he answered the question I had posed. How long had he been skiing? Which led to another – why did he like skiing here? He leaned forward placing his elbow on the table, and began rubbing his chin. I wondered if I had entered a personal zone and was half expecting a flippant answer.

  His lips tightened. ‘My wife and I had been skiing in Verbier about twelve years ago.’ He shook his head. ‘Might be more. We had been to several different resorts in Europe. But we skied over here with friends one day. We enjoyed the snow this side because it’s north facing and less crowded. But, more implicitly, we got to know the people. Stefano and Francesco since I’ve known them, have that inexplicable but uncanny way to draw people. They feed you, attend to you, make you feel special, but never crowd you and always introduce you to people they know. We felt so welcomed and special, and that’s it really – we returned every year, often two or three times. Locals and expats became our friends – Stefano, his wife Sylvia, and Francesco, his chef and friend from Italy. Sergio and Katja, Christoff, Tom, Florian, plus many of the residents here, part-time mainly, some Dutch, French, English, Swiss. It has a great ambience and community feel compared to Verbier.’ He paused, looking into his drink. ‘It just happened.’

  It explained why he was so friendly with the instructors, but I didn’t say that. Instead I said, ‘My first impression is that everybody is so friendly.’

  He then bit his bottom lip as if he was struggling and continued looking into his wine. Then he briefly wrinkled his eyes as his gaze met mine.

  ‘When Cheryl died, I sold our house and downsized to a cottage in Surrey. It gave me no solace, sitting in it alone, so I bought an apartment here too.’ He glanced down again, twirling his glass around for several seconds then lifted his head again, his brows rising as he met mine. ‘It was the best I could come up with to be honest. There was nothing left but a void. That was six years ago. This week, actually. I retired from my job five years ago, so ever since, I’ve spent the winter seasons here and I return in summer to celebrate Swiss National Day on the first of August. I stay a few days then drive on from here to the lakes in Italy or south to the Italian or French Rivieras for a few months. It beats sitting at home.’ He let out a sigh and shook his head. ‘Well, that was a long-winded answer, wasn’t it? Well, enough about me. How did you land here?’

  As I was imagining this lost soul driving passenger-less around exotic parts of Europe, I flinched at his question. ‘My friends. A twist of fate. I lost my husband a year ago.’

  His eyes widened. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

  I bit my bottom lip to steady it. ‘Angie skis here. She and her family have come here for several years, so as she was the only one of us who had skied before, we left it to her to organise. Like I said, I’m impressed.’

  ‘I thought she looked familiar,’ he said. ‘A bold decision too. For you newbies, I mean. Not many, how should I say, older people, take up skiing.’

  I laughed. ‘Funny, isn’t it, and it wasn’t something I would have chosen, that’s for sure. I would have preferred a week in the desert! Until today that is.’ I sipped the last drop of wine in my glass and was suddenly aware of the shift in my outlook in just a few hours and wanting to share it with my friends, I peered around. Cathy sat quietly beside Lou, munching olives, listening but appearing a little drained. Something was bothering her, and I didn’t like to pry. Angie was grinning from ear to ear, eagerly hanging on to every word of Christoff’s flattery and Kim peered at Angie frequently as she spoke to the other two instructors.

  ‘Here, let me top that up,’ Neil said, retrieving my attention.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, holding the stem of the small glass between my fingers as I felt his eyes on me. ‘Stupid I know, but I’d convinced myself I wouldn’t like skiing or mountains. I’d always shied away from them, supposing them to be cold, hostile beasts. This has been anything but. It’s sunny and welcoming and I even relished the skiing.’

  Neil ran his fingers along the neckline of his cashmere sweater, pinching it here and there as if feeling the heat. ‘That’s great. It shows you’ve prepared and are willing to try. In my view, it pays to maintain an open mind. My mental block was deep water, but after kicking my own arse and
booking a few diving lessons, I went on to do a PADI course.’

  ‘Wow.’

  He gave a lopsided smile, which then dropped. ‘Losing Cheryl took a long time to accept but after a while my perspective changed. I don’t know how long it was … a year, eighteen months, but it was the point after her death when the penny dropped. I couldn’t bring her back however much I grieved, and I had to sort myself out; I had to work at it. That realisation hit me that life is too short. A cliché I know, and, for another cliché, I found the more I put in the more I got out.’ Neil’s eyes shone as he quickly corrected himself. ‘Get out. It gets easier, as I’m sure you probably find; it took a lot of effort to put my coat on and walk out the door.’

  I nodded, scooping a piece of my hair around my ear as the similarities rang inside my head. ‘So true,’ I agreed thinking of the numerous times I had talked myself out of doing things. The temptation each day to take a left instead of a right at a junction on my way to Angie’s gym. Making silly excuses to avoid social events with my friends because they were in their couples, even to my daughter Rachel when I couldn’t face the long drive alone on the motorway to Oxford, I had feigned a stomach bug. ‘Maybe I should take all this on board,’ I said to Neil, lifting a smile to meet sincere sensitivity in his eyes and taking comfort. Neil had experienced what I had and could empathise.

  It was at that point my attention was alerted to Kim shuffling right up beside Angie.

  ‘Shouldn’t we be getting back, Angie?’ Kim asked.

  I looked at the clock on the wall, which told me it was ten past ten, but as tired as I was after lacking sleep, I was happy chatting to Neil. There was an ease about him. I felt we had something in common; our departed spouses were a given, but there was more. And, I had to be honest though it made me feel a little guilty, as it wasn’t even a year since Mike’s passing, but I found Neil very attractive. But then, should I feel guilty when I suspected Mike had been cheating on me? I shuddered. I still couldn’t face that notion.