by Karen Aldous
‘So, you are enjoying the skiing?’
‘Yes,’ we all cheered.
‘Better than we ever imagined,’ Ginny said.
He leant his hands on the centre of the table. Bare forearms revealing dark hairs unlike the thick but fading, greying hair framing his warm and still handsome face. His gaze shifted back and forth along the table before being caught by Angie’s beaming smile and usual flirty allure. That irritated me slightly, especially after our little tête-à-tête. I thought she had listened. Flirting with intent with one man was bad enough, but not every man!
‘Magnifico.’ Stefano raised his right hand and pressed his fingers to his thumb and kissed it. ‘So, you must come here to celebrate New Year with us. Best price. We have special ten-course dinner menu. Francesco and I plan all year. You have wine, a bottle of Champagne all included.’ Stefano lifted his chin, then lowered it again. ‘Two for you ladies. And I have excellent band.’ He raised his eyebrows and shook his head as if we doubted him. ‘They play music you like. You like Abba, yes?’
We nodded.
‘They play Abba. They play the rock and roll. They magnifico. I squeeze you in. We are full.’
Not quite knowing how he was going to squeeze five of us in, I looked at the girls seeking agreement. Stefano had won us all over and we settled on booking our New Year celebrations. It made sense to have somewhere to go and the atmosphere was always warm and welcoming here. Stefano wore a cheeky, satisfied smile when he brought over his card machine. He really could sell sawdust to a sawmill, I mused to myself as I watched Angie pay our deposit with her card.
A familiar voice, followed by laughter, snared my attention. I waved as Christoff scanned the restaurant. Like homing pigeons, Christoff and Neil strolled the aisle towards us, closely followed by Tom and Florian. I enjoyed their company and I was sure the others did too, particularly Ginny and Angie. Heads turned as our handsome friends squeezed into our booth. Maybe I hadn’t realised there was so much space between us girls, but I now understood how Stefano managed to expand his covers. We were closely seated but not uncomfortably so.
From the back of the table, Angie jumped up, just as our wine arrived.
‘Sorry, I need the loo,’ she said.
Lucien poured red wine into our small glasses and took the boys’ orders. Didier, the other waiter we recognised from the previous visit, shouted a ‘bonsoir’ and waved from the aisle between the tables on the other side of the central strip. Chatter began as Christoff asked how the memorial lunch went and we relayed details. Angie returned and as I went to step out to let her in, she held up her palm.
‘No, I’ll pop myself on the edge this end. You don’t mind do you, Christoff?’ She fluttered her eyelids and swung her behind in next to his, nudging everyone along to my end. She glared straight at me, daring me to say something as I scowled back. In that moment, I decided to ignore her behaviour. It had nothing to do with me. I cared, but the message clearly hadn’t sunk in. What could I do?
I turned to Ginny sitting in the corner between Lou and Cathy. She returned a shrug as if signalling her disapproval. It was a shame because it wasn’t what the trip was about and Ginny, I’m certain, didn’t need undertones of infidelity spoiling her fun. As Angie and Christoff continued their frolicking, Florian, Tom and Neil shuffled further to our end of the table and the conversation flowed lightly between us.
Florian and Tom told us about their children and how quickly they learned to ski from a young age. Neil’s three grandchildren, he told us, also learnt when they were small, and he said how he loved to ski with them and his two children and their partners when they visited him here over the February half-term. The grandchildren, now ten, eight and six were growing fast; he chuckled as he explained the difficulty accommodating them all in his three-bedroomed apartment.
After we had eaten our delicious pasta, Neil suggested we walk along to another bar. The Bellevue or Les Trappeurs. I got the impression he felt uncomfortably stifled next to Christoff and Angie.
‘Yes, sounds like a good idea to me,’ I said, tempted to add, ‘Let’s leave these two to get a room,’ but I didn’t want Angie to do anything of the sort. ‘Angie, did you hear Neil? We’re going to walk along to The Bellevue or Les Trappeurs,’ I shouted above the noise.
She turned. ‘Oh, why?’
‘Well, it’s getting a bit hot in here and I fancy a walk after all that pasta I’ve managed to stuff down me,’ I said.
Neil signalled to Lucien for the bill and the waiter came straight over.
Lucien picked up our pot of bills and was totting them up.
Angie glanced back at Christoff. ‘OK. Shall we follow on in a while?’
Christoff shrugged and gazed our way. ‘I … think we …’
Again, I scowled as I grabbed my jacket, interrupting Christoff. ‘I’d rather we stayed together, Angie.’
‘We won’t be long, promise. Which one are you going to?’ Angie gazed at Neil, then at Christoff.
‘I think we go together,’ Christoff said, glancing up at me and, I guessed, reading the tension.
Neil lifted his jacket from the pile in the corner and shuffled around to put his arm in. ‘Bellevue?’
Lou and I nodded. Cathy answered, ‘Wherever. I don’t mind.’
‘OK, Bellevue. We’ll be along soon,’ Angie said, not attempting to compromise.
Ginny cleared her throat as she zipped up her jacket ‘Christoff is coming with us. Grab your coat, Angie.’
Christoff reached behind Neil for his jacket then rose to his feet.
‘OK, fine,’ Angie groaned with a defeated pout and tossed two twenty Swiss-franc notes to me across the table. ‘I don’t understand why you all think it’s so urgent we go.’
I put the notes I’d collected from the girls and settled with Lucien. Neil paid the men’s bill whilst I slipped on my coat. I sidled up to Angie and murmured in her ear. ‘Please don’t do this. It’s not fair on anyone. You know he’s married too.’
‘No, he isn’t actually,’ Angie bit back. ‘They’re separated.’
I wasn’t sure how I kept myself from screaming. I murmured back into her ear, firmly, ‘But you’re not.’
Chapter 13
Ginny
Neil walked beside me, his scent tormenting and enticing my nostrils. Between us a warm pondering silence shielded the biting air as we headed uphill towards the Belleview. Perhaps he sensed I was angry with Angie. Her motives were blatantly obvious to everyone. Why would she risk her marriage like that? Just for a quick shag – probably in a bush or goodness knows where. What had gotten into her? She was a natural flirt, she liked to get attention, even with our other halves, but I’d never seen this side of her before. Dog on heat sprung to mind. Teenage hormones raging.
Was this what Mike was like? Would he have … with Angie? No. I had discounted my friends from the off. I knew, just knew, they would not do that. And in my heart, I knew, neither would Mike. His memorial was propitious; I have accepted his delirium and would do all I could to completely erase his words from my memory. I felt rescued from the torture. Now I – or should I amend that to we, because knowing Angie, she won’t listen to just one person – needed to rescue Angie from hers.
Unlike its terrace outside and the stunning views inside, the Belleview was featureless – and less crowded. Tiled floors and large steel windows that were great for a daytime panorama and obliterated most of the wall space. A large group congregated on a long table across the centre of the room, so we aimed for two window tables, which we pushed together. A young waitress stood nearby as we discarded our jackets and settled.
Christoff sat on the bench seat at the back of the table between Florian and Tom with Neil at the end holding the back of a chair for me, inviting me to sit close. Angie sat the other side of me next to Lou. Cathy and Kim at the other end. The waitress took our drinks order and strolled back towards the bar, the conversation resuming at the table on the lack of ambience the bar had compare
d to La Poste. Angie, still in a sulk, glanced at me. I sighed and shuffled closer, keeping my voice down.
‘Why, Ang?’ I asked. ‘What could possibly drive you to take such a risk with Christoff?’
She lowered her head. ‘You only have to look at him to see why.’
‘OK, but there must have been other men you’ve been attracted to but resisted.’
‘Yes, but … we’re here and Rob won’t find out. It’s the perfect opportunity.’
I rubbed my brow, my thoughts wandering back to Mike’s words. ‘Think of Rob and how hurt he would be if he found out. You wouldn’t like it if he did it to you. What if it slipped past one of our lips when we’re talking about the holiday? It could easily happen.’
Slumping further down her chair as she adjusted the waist on her leggings, Angie whispered, ‘My dad always got away with it. My mum never knew.’
‘What do you mean?’
She slid her tongue to the side of her mouth. ‘My mum, she didn’t know my dad shagged women in his van at the markets.’
‘Did he?’ I gasped in shock but remembered him as being a larger than life figure, quite a charmer. I used to see him at Greenwich market sometimes on a Saturday, occasionally when Angie and I walked around there. That was where she introduced me to him. In fact, at her wedding, he flirted quite a bit with the female guests too, now I thought about it.
‘Yes, I thought you knew,’ she said looking up at me.
‘No. I had no idea. But that doesn’t make it right. Or give you permission to cheat on Rob. And, maybe your mum didn’t know or, possibly turned a blind eye if they stayed together. Rob might not be so forgiving. And if you knew, didn’t you feel sad or sorry for your mum?’
‘Yes, of course I did. I wanted to tell her.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
Angie shrugged, then stared at her lap. ‘I don’t know. I got on better with my dad. He was always nice to me. Mum was the strict one. She could be quite a force, my mum, and I couldn’t bear the thought that she might throw him out or that he might leave.’
‘Didn’t you tell him you knew? Hope that he would stop?’
Angie nodded. ‘I did. He laughed and said I had a wild imagination. I cried for days. I was only thirteen. I hated other women getting his attention. He was my dad. I swore when I got married that no woman was going to turn my husband’s head.’
Now it was all beginning to make sense. Angie’s drive to stay young, keep herself fit and beautiful to hold Rob’s attention. Her insecurities were likely to have stemmed from the relationship with her father. I squeezed her arm.
‘Oh, Ang, Rob thinks you’re gorgeous. Any man in this room will vouch for that, the women too. You’ve got nothing to prove. It’s accepting yourself in here,’ I said laying a hand on my heart. Angie was clearly driven to stay young for Rob so that his head didn’t turn like her father’s.
‘I know, I read all the articles in the magazines. I think I’m scared of getting old and fat like my mum and not being good enough.’
‘Well now, I thought I had the monopoly on not being good enough. I’m waking up to that false belief.’ I leaned closer. ‘A little secret. Neil has made me feel like a woman again if you know what I mean.’
Angie gave a roar. ‘Oh my God, Gin. That’s so exciting.’
Kim shouted across: ‘What are you two whispering about?’
I cleared my throat and licked my lips addressing the table. ‘Well, after today, Flowers, I need your help,’ I said boldly. All eyes were on me, but I needed to steer the conversation and it was my attempt at diverting Angie from this latest obsession with sex and Christoff and helping her. ‘So as you know I’ve made the decision to move on but I want to explore possibilities. I know we did this tongue-in-cheek earlier, but as it’s the New Year in a few days there’s not much time to plan, I wondered if you could offer some serious input. I mean it’s a perfect time to make a fresh start, so what can I do to distract my mind from Mike and the misery I’ve subjected myself to this year?’
‘Distraction! He’s sitting right next to you, sweetheart,’ Angie said. ‘It doesn’t get easier than that.’ There was a mixed reaction of short sharp laughter and an intake of breaths.
Blood immediately rushed to my cheeks, and I couldn’t look at Neil. I should have half expected Angie to come out with something like that, but I wasn’t prepared for her retort. Nor the tingling that shot through my skin. My attraction to Neil and his demeanour felt so right, but I didn’t feel anywhere ready for a relationship. Affair, fling or otherwise. I’d been married for almost forty years, so my relationship with Mike, my soul mate, was only really beginning to exit my psyche.
‘Trust you, Ang!’ Lou said poking Angie in the side and attempting to lighten my embarrassment. ‘I happen to think there’s no harm in having a bit of fun if you’re comfortable with it. You’re a free woman, like I said before. I’m sure Neil is too much of a gentleman to respond to that, but you two do make a lovely couple.’
Neil and I swapped rosy glances. ‘You’re very kind, thank you,’ he said smiling at me and Lou. This wasn’t going quite as I’d planned, and my mouth twitched nervously with Neil right beside me. Luckily, three bottles of Gamay and nine glasses arrived at our table, delivered by a young waitress, and that diverted everyone’s attention. I watched as Christoff and Neil eyed her curiously as she opened and poured the wine. Mike would always check out a woman, I remembered.
So, as the topic had shifted from my intention, I was about to suggest something more practical that Angie could pursue to distract her from ruining her marriage by chasing Christoff, but Florian rejoined the trail of my original conversation in his beautiful French accent.
‘Ginny. When my mother lost my father, she sold their home, our family home in Sion. She found it hard, emotionally, but opened a bar in a nearby tourist village in the valley. It was something she always wanted to do, and although it is very busy, she is happiest there. She made it a successful and profitable business. Is there something similar you have always wanted to do?’
I was just about to respond when Kim clapped her hands then entwined her fingers. ‘That’s amazing, Florian. I think Ginny should make a list of all the things she’s ever wanted to do in life.’ She scrunched her nose as she grabbed my fingers. ‘Like a bucket list, then narrow it down and see where it takes you.’
‘Yes, my darling, think about what excites you,’ Cathy added. ‘The magazine I subscribe to has articles about women who change course in later years. They turn their lives around and find their purpose in life at fifty, sixty or seventy! You could have some of those to flick through for ideas.’
I nodded. ‘Well, isn’t that exactly what you’ve done – started writing, Cathy? It was always a dream when you were teaching, wasn’t it? And now you’re doing it.’
Neil smiled, raising his eyebrows. ‘Good for you, Cathy. Are you published?’
‘Just one short story to date,’ Cathy said proudly. ‘My dream is to write a novel.’
‘Well, a great start,’ Neil said. ‘I gather that’s what you’re working towards then?’
‘Absolutely. I had always known I would write one day, published or not. I find it therapeutic and unlike some that I won’t mention, something to look forward to in retirement.’ Cathy tittered. It was good that she was making light of her and Anthony’s plight.
Kim puffed her cheeks. ‘Well, Gin, you know what I want when I retire. I’m desperate to return to England and be closer to the twins and you Flowers. My dream is to come back and keep you company, Ginny, especially now you’re on your own. It would be nice to do more together. All of us, even if it’s walking in the park,’ Kim said.
‘We would all love that,’ I crooned.
Kim blew me a kiss. ‘But for now, have you thought about joining a local evening class, maybe? Learn something new. A language, musical instrument, local history, gardening.’ Kim stopped and clasped her hands to her chest. ‘Now, there’s a challenge. Cr
eate your own rose garden. You love sitting in mine and you liked your dad’s.’
I stared at Kim, clenching my teeth with apprehension. ‘Really! Gosh, a rose garden. But I’m useless in the garden. I can’t even tell a plant from a weed.’ I was a little stirred though thinking about Dad’s and Kim’s roses, Dad’s veg patch, and I had on a few occasions, helped Mum make up the summer bedding and hanging baskets. ‘Hmm, food for thought. I do love making up hanging baskets and planting pots for the patio, so increasing my plant knowledge could be useful. In fact, growing my own veg appeals.’
Angie sat back. ‘Yes, growing your own produce would be complimentary to your new health and fitness ethos, and don’t forget that job I offered you. Free fitness classes on tap. Updates and monitoring on diet.’
‘I have to say, you are really tempting me, Ang. And I’ve read cultivating-slash-gardening is apparently very good for the soul. I can imagine myself tending vegetables in the garden, watching them grow, fresh herbs, maybe some soft fruits, planting an apple tree.’ Ideas rolled over in my brain, but I had started this exercise with Angie in mind. ‘You’re right, Ang,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t mind learning more, maybe some wild challenges are what I need.’ I bit my lip. ‘I’m getting a little carried away, I couldn’t possibly cope with all this at once.’
Angie put her wine-free hand on my shoulder. ‘Absolutely not, Ginny,’ she said with conviction. ‘Let me help you. God, you’ve got my juices flowing to do more too.’
Awash with wonder, I gulped. ‘I have?’
I couldn’t believe it. Had I unwittingly inspired Angie or was it just a momentary distraction? I had to probe further. ‘That would be great, Angie, but what about what you want? Your own challenges?’ I asked her.
