by Karen Aldous
As for Angie, I’m saddened she could take Rob for granted like that. I know she loves him to pieces. He is a super guy, and over the years, she’s relayed so many stories, even admitting they had inherited money. He has supported her so much with the children and her business venture, which took several years to turn a profit, not to mention their beautiful home and the exotic annual holidays, including their annual family skiing trips. Just as my hero, Will, now a professor and doctor at the forefront of research in Perth, has provided for and supported me, Rob – a humble nurse – has been good to Angie. She couldn’t let him down now. She has so much to be grateful for. All of us do, in fact. And we do remind ourselves how lucky we are.
Like me, Angie grew up on a London council estate and couldn’t believe her good fortune when she met Rob. His family were not only loaded, but he had a good job as a computer programmer in the Seventies and had already bought his own Victorian house in Greenwich when she met him. I hadn’t known her at that point but got to know her when Ginny and Mike moved next door to them and we were all invited to their beautiful wedding.
Angie proudly publicises her rags to riches story and our humble background is something that bonds us. I thought Angie would know better. What is it that possesses someone with such love and comfort to deliberately destroy all her family’s lives? It made me think that I should be less selfish and think more about Will. Five years seems a long time to wait before we move back to Kent, but maybe I should be more flexible.
Kicking off our boots in the entrance, I circled Angie as she tucked her boots under the rack. I held back my rage until the others were through the door. ‘I can’t believe you would stoop so low, Ang.’
She spun around scowling, the Velcro from the bottom of her jacket catching on the sleeve of my boucle jumper.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve never considered it?’ she said, tugging at my sleeve as I pinched the fabric to stop it unthreading.
‘No. Why would I? I value my husband and family too much. If I felt I needed another man I would leave him first.’
‘I value mine, but I don’t believe you,’ she said, wrenching the jacket from my arm and balancing herself. ‘Surely you must fantasise?’
Thumping the front door, I turned the key. ‘Fantasy is something different. And no, actually. I don’t fantasise about sex these days. My bloody menopause put paid to that pleasure.’
Angie looked at me with her nose screwed up. ‘What? Nothing?’
‘No,’ I admitted sheepishly. ‘My libido is what is known as MIA – missing in action.’ I was now on my soapbox. Will and I have had this discussion so many times. Who knew where these statistics come from, but apparently nearly half the female population are mourning their libidos. I found this out when I did my own research when learning to cope with mental health as a nurse. I’ve read so many articles and books as I missed feeling sexy. Will and I have had to try new strategies in our approach – which basically means he doesn’t pressure me and I have time to switch off and relax. Luckily Will is a darling and has the patience of a saint, and we worked at it.’
I grinned at Angie. ‘There’s no magic Viagra for women. I guess we girls will have to invent our own. But Will and I work at it and have come through it stronger. You and Rob could do the same,’ I told her. It sounded brutal but worth it to make her see. In my research, I discovered not so many couples have the same success at finding a solution.
Although libido loss wasn’t Angie’s problem at all, I didn’t want her to fall foul in her relationship. Not Angie and Rob. Not without trying. I thought of my sister. Two failed marriages. Her determination to trap Mike. Ginny being hurt. Paula didn’t want just a fling.
I rested my hands on my hips, watching Cathy come down the stairs while texting on her phone.
‘Angie,’ I pleaded. ‘You’re in the business of female wellbeing. There’s heaps of books, online information, experts out there. I’m sure there’s a solution that will suit you both. There’s probably more possibilities than someone in my situation. Or, you could try distraction: something else to occupy your mind. Why not put all that extra energy into running for a charity, for example, or learning a new skill, volunteering perhaps? It’s healthier than destroying a marriage, your family.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Cathy muttered and then peered up through her spectacles at Angie before tucking one leg under her bottom and sinking into the sofa. ‘Rob’s a keeper.’
‘But that’s the point. I don’t want to ruin what I have.’ She sighed heavily, looking bruised. She opened the glass-fronted cupboard. ‘I … I shouldn’t have said anything.’
As she grabbed two tall tumblers from the cupboard, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. ‘Angie, you’re right to say something. It’s an issue you clearly need to sort out in your mind. Just think about what we’re saying before you jump into a pit of regret.’ I gave her a squeeze and released her.
‘Thanks, Kim, I really appreciate that you care.’ She ran the cold tap and, glancing at Cathy with a forced smile, I let my tension subside. At least I’d said my piece. I just had to pray she would take it on board.
Angie held out one of the tumblers for me to take. ‘Thanks,’ I said.
‘Do you want a glass of water, Cathy? Where are the others?’
Cathy tapped away on her phone. ‘Er … yes please. Oh, bugger. I … Oh, Anthony. Hang on.’ Cathy swiped the phone. ‘I can talk to him later.’
‘You stay there,’ Angie said, placing the water on a table beside her. ‘I’ll get another glass and I’m off to bed.’
‘Me too,’ I said glaring an agreeing acknowledgement at Angie. Cathy was keen to talk to Anthony again with some privacy.
‘Something weird is going on there,’ Angie whispered when we got to the landing.
‘Hmm,’ I said, pausing at our door equally curious. ‘Hope they’re OK?’ I tapped lightly on the door. ‘You decent, Ginny?’ I asked, slowly opening the door. Ginny was wrapped in her duvet fast asleep. ‘Oh, bless her,’ I whispered to Angie, glad to see one of us untroubled. ‘She’s worn out.’
‘That’s good. She’ll have a difficult day to face tomorrow with the memorial.’
Chapter 10
Ginny
The following morning, after a lovely long sleep, I had the table all set long before any of the Flowers opened their eyes. I sneaked quietly out to the supermarket for bread, meats, cheese and orange juice and was emptying a large pot of Greek yoghurt into a bowl and placing it beside the jar of honey when I heard footsteps on the stairs.
‘Wow,’ I heard. It was Lou and Cathy. ‘This looks amazing,’ Lou said, casting her eyes over the spread. ‘Mm, delish.’
Cathy hovered. ‘Anything I can do before I sit down, darling?’
‘No, all done, I think, thank you,’ I told her.
‘Wow, someone’s been busy,’ Angie said, padding towards the table and not looking as awake as the rest of us. She inhaled deeply to take in the smells. ‘Hmm, cheese.’
I picked up the teapot and began to pour. ‘Is Kim awake?’
‘Yes, just coming down,’ Angie said, leaning over the table to pinch a cornichon from a glass dish. ‘Yum.’
‘Yes, my Pommie friends, I’m here.’ Kim came rushing down the stairs. ‘Oh, Gin, it looks beautiful – and roses. Is this for Mike?’
‘Sort of.’ I put on my best smile, steeling myself to keep my emotions strong. ‘I thought it would be nice to start Memorial Day with a taster. Tea this morning, my Flowers. It was Mike’s favourite breakfast beverage,’ I said, handing the filled cups and saucers out, ‘but so you know, I’m setting the tone for the day and for the future. The first anniversary is going to be my first stepping stone, so it’s important for me to … hmm, what’s the word I’m looking for … mark the occasion. Yes, I think it’s mark.’
I swallowed hard, taking a moment. ‘The point is, I’m now more determined than ever to move on with my life without Mike,’ I said, putting down the teapot and placin
g my hand over my heart, trying to stop myself from spluttering. It was going to be a happy day. ‘Naturally, I’ll keep our memories tucked here, tightly in my heart, as I’m sure you will, but as well as a memorial, I thought it fitting to use today to commit myself to my future.’
‘Well, good for you. And of course, that’s a lovely idea,’ Kim said sniffing and drying her eyes.
I looked at Lou as she swallowed and pinched her nose. I could see the moist rims of her eyes as she spoke. ‘That sounds perfect, Ginny. We had been dreading today as we’d racked our brains trying to come up with something. It had to be personal to you, so I love that you’ve worked that detail out yourself. We’d be delighted to share it with you, sweetheart.’
Behind her glasses frames, Cathy’s make-up was smeared. She lifted her cup. ‘Perfect, darling. To Mike and our new Ginny.’
Angie’s chin and lower lip wobbled as she raised her cup of tea, pronouncing, ‘Yes, a double celebration: here’s to Mike and your new beginnings.’
‘Thank you, love, and cheers, my beautiful friends.’ I wept as those trapped tears of mine unleashed. My mind seeing Mike take his last breaths before he lay still. In an instant I was surrounded, wrapped and hugged and squeezed and injected with love from my devoted and caring friends, all of whom I loved so much. I let the tears roll down my face because I knew they wouldn’t go away, not for some time, but I was ready, I had all the love I needed, the support, everything and more. I would not let them or myself down. Through my blurred vision, I peered at Angie and my contorted voice whispered, ‘Is there a restaurant that sits at the top of a mountain?’
She kissed my cheek. ‘Absolutely, gorgeous girl, I know the perfect place,’ and instantly their love surged into me again lifting me more than the music had a few nights ago. It was the longest hug that would stay with me forever. A tender moment I would treasure where love swathed our souls and silence was all we needed to absorb it.
We feasted like kings and after, with the mood set for the day, we raced to our rooms. Once dressed and reminded of equipment, we put on our boots, gathered our skis and met Christoff and Neil. Angie immediately gave Christoff her lusty smile, making him blush. Neil glowed, said a warm ‘Good morning’ and blew air kisses to us all, then quickly caught Angie’s attention and left with her up to the main lift station. I watched them depart and couldn’t help feeling a stab of jealousy. I had enjoyed talking to Neil last night but today I wanted nothing to distract me. I wanted to clearly focus on this special day.
Christoff clicked his boots, gave us a wide smile and then pursed his lips. ‘OK. Have you all got everything?’
Satisfied with our nods he led us up the path to the nursery slope and we filed up the button lift without drama. We were getting used to the heat generated by walking and as the sun was hiding behind mist this morning, it was certainly more comfortable. We spent the morning, practising our ‘pat the dog’ first, which I found soon loosened the tightness in my knees. Then Christoff gave us another exercise where we had to lift one of our skis as we traversed the slope, put it down as we arced the turn, and change legs to traverse the other way. Among us, we had several wobbles and falls, but I felt my balance improving and my snowploughs were becoming much smoother with more movement in my ankles.
We agreed when we gathered at the top of the slope that the walk up was a good warm-up and the exercise helped us control our skis better. Even Cath was glowing with confidence as I waited for her to come down after me. Our morning was fun, and with just a few falls, Christoff said we were doing well. We headed off with him to meet Angie at the lift station, excited about our progress, and I couldn’t wait to see where we were going for Mike’s memorial lunch.
I told Christoff our plans. ‘I’m hoping it has a beautiful view, and now the sun is out, it would be lovely to sit in the warm,’ I said as we reached the lift station, looking around for Angie.
Christoff, hearing this, cleared his throat. ‘Take the gondola to the top. There’s a good restaurant just as you get out of the lift with stunning views. You can then get back in the gondola and come directly back down.’
‘Ah, that sounds like the place Angie has in mind.’ I beamed. ‘Sounds perfect. Thank you. I would ask you to join us, but I’d like this occasion to remain private.’
‘Of course. Leave your skis over there against the wall,’ he said.
Our eyes followed his finger to a wall at the bottom of the lift steps.
Christoff waved his palm. ‘Maybe I’ll see you later,’ he said with a wave. ‘Enjoy.’
At that moment, Angie rushed up beside us and leaned forward to watch Christoff go, then unburdened her shoulders as she released her skis, announcing excitedly, ‘That was amazing. Neil and I went down the face, off-piste, and the snow was incredible.’
Neil walked up behind her. ‘It was great fun, Angie, thank you for skiing with me this morning. Are you happy to ski with me tomorrow?’
‘You bet.’
I searched Neil’s face for some acknowledgement and wasn’t disappointed. His eyes and teeth shone my way. ‘I hope it’s the right etiquette to wish you a lovely afternoon, Ginny. I hope the memorial goes well.’
‘Thank you, that’s so kind,’ I replied appreciating his thoughtfulness. Angie must have informed him.
‘Ready for lunch, sweetheart?’ Lou asked snapping me out of my trance and possibly thinking the same as myself – how thoughtful Neil was. Lou inserted her skis beside Angie’s, albeit with less grace, and we placed ours around them.
‘Are you ready? We’re going up the gondola to the restaurant at the top.’
I slipped off my helmet and threw in my gloves. ‘Yes, so ready, Flowers. Christoff recommended it for the views, too.’
‘Great minds eh? Excellent. Let’s go,’ Angie said.
* * *
My legs were like jelly by the time we’d walked up the stairs. And that was without the skis. It was surprisingly uncrowded considering how full the resort was but then lunch, like après-ski, was a major stop for a refuel after a morning of spent energy. I was grateful and keen to eat too. The building that housed the gondola lift was a huge concrete and steel structure with Perspex windows on the steps but cavernous and dark at the top with high ceilings to accommodate the large steel structure for the steel ropes carrying the gondolas. We entered the electronic lift-pass turnstiles, which beeped and released steel turnstiles as it picked up the sensors and information on each of our photo passes. The rubber matting did little to absorb the melting snow from our boots but softened the sound of the boots banging on the concrete and the clanking of each gondola as they shot into the terminal, and out again carrying passengers.
Angie stopped behind another crowd in front and glanced at us. ‘Are we all here?’ She seemed satisfied, then said, ‘Just follow me in. One car will hold all of us, and it won’t race away, so don’t panic.’
I had to admit, they did look rather daunting with small double doors that rapidly snapped open and shut. I didn’t fancy getting myself caught in one. I sat between Lou and Cath waiting for the doors to slam, which they did finally, and then the car whizzed us out to daylight at lightning speed, then clanked and eased, elevating us slowly. Cath squealed and held onto my hand. As it climbed, following a trail of virtually virgin snow, I looked out marvelling at some of the tiny old chalets that littered the hillside, each nestled comfortably in their blanket of snow.
‘How beautiful,’ I said.
‘It is a winter wonderland, isn’t it? They are so cute, those little chalets,’ Cathy said. ‘I don’t know how you would access them though. There are no tracks to these – look.’
Several were submerged without car access.
Angie leaned forward. ‘You’ll notice the skidoos. Owners park them up outside when they’re there. Or they just ski in and out from the lifts during the day. There are a few small chairlifts still, which provide access and allow them to ski down.’
‘So, they can’t go out of a nigh
t?’ Lou questioned.
‘Not really, no. Not without a skidoo to transport them. Unless they’re fit enough to walk back up.’
Kim let out a laugh. ‘That snow would be up to your waist, I reckon. Can you imagine walking down and not knowing there’s a ledge? You’d literally drown in all that snow.’
‘Scary,’ Cath said.
Peering out, I watched the village spread before us across the horizon. An abundance of snow-covered roofs. Small chalets, large, old and modern and the very big ones housing several apartments. Beyond, the valley widened, the high snow-covered mountains now facing us in the distance, their faces blanketed in white then rock and forests fighting for space. A tiny village now almost a speckle in the distance. The car rose above the path between the trees widening my vista, enabling me to see around: a chairlift, smaller, older – a two-man chairlift, Angie relayed. Then a long stretch of a tree-lined piste edged intermittently with red-coloured sticks.
It reminded me of watching the Winter Olympics. Skiers swishing under me, their bodies swaying from side to side, making it look so simple. How lovely it would have been to have started skiing as a child. And, there they were, kids no more than five or six leisurely cruising behind each other; fearless. Groups of skiers stood to one side, some sitting in the snow, families, also snowboarders arching their backs, then crashing, parking to catch their breath.
I craned my neck to look at a cluster of stone buildings surrounded by a sunny, decked terrace to my left. It was crammed with diners seated on long bench seats at food-filled tables, a queue trailing from a small window, deck chairs filled with ski-suited bodies, sunning white skins whilst gripping mugs of beer or glasses of wine. I could almost breathe the atmosphere. An invisible energy charged the air and my skin tingled with excitement. I longed to taste more of this place and sample the delicious cuisine of the restaurant whose aroma wafted up to our car. My mouth was watering.
As we passed the face of the mountain with people bouncing as they traversed the moguls of snow, threads of self-doubt wrangled in my stomach. There was no way I was ever going to get to grips with all this. Peering up, I could see the flat ledge at the top and the monstrous lift station.
