The One We Fell in Love With

by Paige Toon

  He shook his head. ‘My girlfriend and I split up a few weeks ago.’

  ‘Aah.’ I glanced at Amelie and he followed the direction of my gaze.

  ‘Amelie is my cousin,’ he explained.

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. I mean...’ I stuttered. ‘I’m not sorry to hear that Amelie’s your cousin.’

  When Remy was snowboarding, his eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, but at that moment they were a striking blue and sparkling with amusement.

  ‘So, you work on the Aiguille now?’ he asked, taking a sip of the coffee I’d just made him.

  ‘Yes.’ I smiled weakly, trying to regain my composure. ‘For a little over a month now.’

  ‘What happened to your friend?’

  ‘Josie? She went home.’ I shrugged. ‘I wanted to stay for a bit longer. I don’t go to university until September, and now I have a contract here, I think I’m going to find it hard to let it go.’

  He looked impressed. ‘I know a few people who’ve tried to get a job on the Aiguille in the past with no luck. How did you manage it?’

  ‘Friends in high places.’ I flashed Cécile a grin. She was sitting with Amelie, but must have been eavesdropping because she returned my smile.

  ‘Should we carry on with the check-list?’ I asked her, slightly reluctantly. I figured the sooner our work got done, the sooner we could come back here and hang out.

  ‘I suppose we should.’ Cécile stood up and reached for her coat. ‘Help yourselves to anything in the kitchen,’ she told Remy and Amelie. ‘We’ll be back in a bit.’

  The moment we were outside, she gave me a comically meaningful look. ‘So he’s split up with his girlfriend, has he?’

  I smirked and she laughed, continuing to tease. ‘And he and Amelie are just cousins, are they?’

  ‘Oh, shut up.’ I shoved her arm as she giggled.

  It wasn’t protocol, but after our work was done, Cécile agreed to let Remy and Amelie join us for dinner in the staff apartment.

  As we all walked across the footbridge with Cécile leading the way and me bringing up the rear, my eyes, for once, were not drawn to the view.

  Remy was carrying Amelie and he looked so... well, manly. He was lean but strong – probably not quite six foot tall, but much taller than my five foot six inches. Older, too – I hazarded a guess at early twenties. In contrast, Angus seemed like a lanky teenager.

  I made the comparison fondly, but I still felt a pang of guilt. Angus and I were no longer a couple, but we had been trying to stay friends. I had been trying a little harder than he had, in truth. In the five months since our break-up at Christmas, I’d instigated every single one of our very occasional email exchanges.

  When I thought of Angus and how close we’d been the previous summer, my memories had a surreal quality to them. I’d loved him enough to lose my virginity to him and I remembered feeling incredibly lucky to have found such a funny, kind, drop-dead-gorgeous boyfriend. Sometimes I wondered if I’d been mad not to fight harder for him when he asked to make our break permanent, but I’d told myself that if it were meant to be, we would find our way back to each other again someday.

  The staff apartment was pretty cosy with four of us inside. Cécile settled our guests and sorted out drinks while I prepared dinner: homemade Bolognese and, luckily, a whole packet of spaghetti. We thought we could stretch the sauce to four.

  ‘What can I do?’ Remy asked, making me jump as he joined me. ‘You want me to grate some cheese?’

  ‘Er, sure.’ I got the Parmesan out of the fridge and found him the grater.

  ‘Thank you for this,’ he said as he got on with the task.

  ‘You’re welcome. It’s good to see you again.’ And boy, did I mean it. He had stripped down to a T-shirt and I was finding it hard not to stare at his tanned, muscled arms. I’d met a few attractive rock climbers in my time – I used to think of them as surfers of the sky, so often fit and sexy with thrill-seeking natures and a true sense of adventure. Usually Dad was around to keep me in line, but not this time.

  In the nearby living room, Amelie laughed at something Cécile said. Remy smiled in their direction and then at me. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t place you earlier,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you at the top of a mountain.’

  ‘I suppose the last time you saw me I was on the top of a table, so it’s a fair comment.’

  ‘You did like dancing on those tables,’ he commented with a grin.

  ‘I’m still prone to the occasional tabletop dance,’ I replied as I scooped out a strand of spaghetti with a fork to check if it was cooked. ‘I mostly hang out in Argentière these days,’ I explained, draining the pasta. ‘I live with Cécile and have a part-time bar job at The Savoy.’

  ‘I’m surprised I haven’t seen you there,’ he said, watching as I served up.

  ‘You must’ve been in on my days off. It’s been, what, two months since I saw you last?’

  ‘Something like that. I haven’t been to Chamonix as much as I would have liked.’

  ‘Why is that? You seemed to be here every weekend earlier in the year.’

  ‘Mmm. My girlfriend, Cristina, wanted me at home more. It’s part of the reason why we broke up.’

  ‘Aah.’

  I wanted to ask him more, but our food would’ve gone cold so I grudgingly put my questions on hold.

  Amelie was in high spirits during dinner, which was amazing considering the state of her ankle. She stayed on the sofa with her foot on a chair, nursing her plate on her lap. If it weren’t for her injury, we could have been four friends chatting merrily away, but I soon became distracted thinking about our forthcoming sleeping arrangements.

  In the summer months, we encouraged stranded climbers to walk back down the ridge to the Refuge du Cosmique, which is about a forty-five-minute trek on the glacier. But if they were injured or didn’t want to, then we would let them sleep on the floor of the public toilets. It might sound mean, but some people stayed at the top on purpose to avoid paying the refuge charges, and frankly, the Aiguille was not a hotel.

  That evening, though, I couldn’t bear the thought of sending our two new friends to the other side of the footbridge to sleep in the loos, however warm they might’ve been.

  I could’ve kissed Cécile when we were alone in the kitchen and she made a different suggestion.

  ‘I suppose they could sleep on the sofas,’ she whispered.

  ‘Really? Well, no, Amelie can have my bed. I’ll take the sofa.’

  ‘I bet you will.’ She gave me a mischievous look.

  ‘Cut it out.’ My cheeks flamed. ‘Are you serious, though? Can we let them stay here?’ I asked hopefully.

  ‘I won’t tell if you don’t,’ she replied with a comedy wink.

  Amelie was extremely grateful and really didn’t take much convincing to sleep in my room. She was so exhausted that she went to bed straight after dinner. Cécile stayed up only a little while longer before calling it a night.

  ‘What about the sunset?’ I frowned at her as she stretched her arms over her head. Surely she didn’t want to miss it – she was always going on about the fact that we got the last of the sun up here.

  ‘Take Remy. I’ve seen enough sunsets. I’m shattered.’

  It wasn’t that late, but while her yawn looked genuine, I couldn’t believe she was really that tired. She was meddling.

  As soon as she went, I felt a flurry of nerves at being alone with Remy. I smiled across at him from my position on the second sofa.

  ‘Do you think Amelie is feeling okay?’

  I regretted my chosen topic of conversation when his face fell. He shook his head with dismay, but didn’t answer.

  ‘It could have been a lot worse,’ I pointed out, soon regretting that comment, too.

  He shuddered visibly. ‘I keep imagining having to tell her mother that she’d...’ He shuddered again, a morose look in his eyes. ‘I can’t believe I messed up so badly.’ He looked utterly miserable.
>
  ‘Hey.’ Impulsively I moved to sit beside him.

  ‘I should have insisted we turn back sooner, but I didn’t, and then I rushed her...’

  ‘You were just trying to get down in time,’ I said, squeezing his shoulder consolingly.

  ‘Better late than never,’ he replied darkly.

  We both fell silent, deep in thought. I let my hand drop, but didn’t move back to the other sofa.

  ‘You two are close, aren’t you?’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘We grew up in the same village. Our mothers are sisters.’

  ‘How old are you both?’ I asked curiously.

  ‘She’s twenty; I’m twenty-three. And you?’

  ‘Eighteen.’

  He reached forward and picked up his glass, taking a sip of his water. We weren’t allowed to drink alcohol.

  ‘Do you climb?’ he asked casually.

  ‘Ever since I was small.’ He turned to face me with interest. ‘We had a climbing wall around the corner from where we lived. It isn’t in use any more, sadly. My dad tried to teach my sisters and me when we were seven.’

  ‘You’re an identical triplet!’ he said suddenly, his face lighting up as he remembered.

  ‘How did you know that?’ I asked with surprise. I’m sure I never told him myself.

  ‘Swedish Pete mentioned it,’ he explained, pursing his lips. That was the nickname we had for one of our wacky snowboarding friends.

  ‘Aah.’ I nodded at him. ‘Well, my sisters and I are very different. I took to climbing straight away, but Rose and Eliza struggled to get to grips with it. Rose didn’t want to go in the first place, but my dad insisted and then she hurt her hand and gave up.’ Rose had sat on the pavement in a sulk for ages, I remembered affectionately, although Dad had been less than impressed with her lack of effort.

  ‘Eliza did try, but she kept slipping and bashing her knees. She’s not the most co-ordinated person in the world, bless her, but she kept going and then suddenly, near the top, she freaked out. She was paralysed and started to scream and had to be rescued. She’s still afraid of heights to this day,’ I mused sadly, glancing at Remy. Was I boring him? I didn’t think so, from his expression.

  ‘Anyway, climbing became the thing that I did with Dad. We went back to the wall time and time again.’ He had taught me all of my climbing techniques and all of the various hand, finger and foot holds, everything from a knee bar to a pinch grip. ‘Then he started taking me hiking with a bit of scrambling thrown in.’ Scrambling was the link between mountain walking and rock climbing and it was excellent preparation for Alpine climbing, which involved routes with both rock and ice and snow. It took us away from paths and rock walls and was often a sanctuary for rare plants and animals, so I used to get a lesson in nature as well, remembering always to take care with my footsteps. ‘Scrambling graduated to bouldering.’ This meant climbing big boulders without safety ropes and only a crash mat and Dad to catch my falls. ‘And when I was old and strong enough to belay Dad, we’d go full-blown mixed ice and rock climbing.’ In this case, Dad used to lead and fix bolts as he went, while I belayed him from the bottom – feeding the rope out and supporting him should he fall, which was incredibly rare. He would then wait at the top for me to climb up behind him.

  ‘Sometimes we’d spend whole weekends away in Wales or Scotland, just the two of us, and our family holidays usually took place near well-known rock climbing routes, so we’d escape together when Mum would let us.’ These times alone with my father were among my happiest memories. ‘How about you? How did you learn?’ I asked Remy, suddenly feeling bad for hijacking the conversation, although he didn’t seem to mind.

  ‘Big brother,’ he replied. ‘Well, half-brother – my father’s son from an earlier marriage. I grew up in a little village, surrounded by national parks. The Gorge du Tarn was my climbing playground. My brother used to take me when he came to visit. Amelie followed on when she was sixteen. My aunt blamed me for her new hobby, of course,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘A safer one would have been preferable.’

  ‘Stop thinking about it,’ I said firmly as he shuddered again.

  ‘Do you have any photos of your sisters?’ he asked, changing the subject. It was an age-old question. People always wanted to see photos, and then they’d become obsessed with meeting all three of us at once.

  ‘They look exactly like me,’ I replied, but indulged him by digging into my pocket and bringing out my phone. He leaned in close while I showed him.

  ‘Whoa,’ he murmured, staring first at the pictures and then at me with fascination.

  I laughed lightly, trying to ignore my butterflies as I placed my phone on the coffee table.

  ‘What’s it like, being a triplet?’ he asked.

  ‘I get to see what I look like from behind,’ I replied flippantly.

  ‘Do you play a lot of tricks on people?’

  I shrugged. ‘Not really.’ I wished we’d been more inventive, considering the amount of times I’d been asked that question. ‘Eliza used to joke that we should train as magicians. We’d be able to do a great double act.’

  ‘Triple act, you mean.’

  I smiled. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘You must miss them.’

  I paused before admitting the truth. ‘Not as much as I thought I would.’

  ‘No?’ He looked intrigued.

  ‘It’s just... It’s weird. We’ve had eighteen years of it being the three of us. We’ve been through everything together and there’s a bond between us that can never be broken. I love them more than life and I can imagine us all growing old together and ending up living next door to one another. But then there’s the flipside of the coin.’ I stared at him levelly. ‘It’s not easy being constantly compared and having to share everything under the sun. It’s nice to just be me for once. To follow my own path.’

  He nodded attentively.

  ‘What’s the time?’ I asked in a sudden panic, checking my phone and realising that it was almost ten o’clock. ‘We’re going to miss the sunset!’

  We grabbed our coats, but still had to brace ourselves against the cold as we walked out of the apartment and down the stairs. The shop and café were dark and deserted.

  ‘I can’t get over how bizarre it is up here without the tourists,’ I said.

  ‘I love it.’ He flashed me a grin and then stopped suddenly in his tracks.

  ‘Wow.’ We both spoke at the same time.

  The sky had turned a deep mauve, fading to a line of brilliant orange across the cottonwool cloud-line. The sun’s yellow rays were still potent, piercing my eyes and leaving impressions when I blinked. We were surrounded by mountain peaks, bathed in the last of the evening’s light.

  ‘What do you do, Remy?’ I asked after a moment.

  ‘I’m a web designer for a small company in Turin. I’ve worked there pretty much since I left school.’

  ‘You enjoy it?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘I’m lucky. I don’t have to work weekends, so I can come here. Most of my salary goes on the Mont Blanc tunnel.’

  ‘There are worse ways to spend your money.’

  ‘My ex does not agree with you,’ he said drily.

  ‘She doesn’t like the mountains?’

  ‘She doesn’t mind looking at them, but climbing, skiing, hiking... no. We don’t have a lot in common, to be honest. I don’t know how we lasted two years.’

  ‘Did you live together?’

  ‘Yes. We still do, unfortunately.’ He turned to face me properly, leaning one elbow against the handrail. A warm glow was cast across his face, lighting his blue eyes. He was insanely attractive, even when he was talking about his ex. I tried to concentrate as he continued.

  ‘It’s a great apartment. Neither of us wants to give it up, but we can’t afford the rent on our own.’

  ‘If you like it here so much, why don’t you move?’

  ‘And lose my job?’ he replied.

  ‘Couldn’t you freelance?’


  ‘I don’t know if my boss would go for that.’ He paused and then looked up at Mont Blanc. ‘Maybe I’ll ask.’

  ‘Have you been to the summit?’ I asked after a moment. His sightline hadn’t changed.

  He nodded. ‘A couple of times. You?’

  ‘Not yet. I’m hoping to go this summer with my dad. The last time he summited Mont Blanc, he was in his twenties and I know he’s keen to do it again. But he’s getting older now and my mum worries every time he talks about doing another big climb. I feel a bit guilty for putting the pressure on.’

  ‘Well, if he decides not to come, you can give me a call.’

  He said it casually, but I told him I’d need his number.

  ‘I’ll give it to you when we go back inside,’ he promised with a smile. ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘What do you want to do with your life?’

  ‘I like writing. I’m going to university in September to study French and English.’ I shrugged. ‘I guess I’ll take it from there, see what happens.’

  He must’ve picked up on my lack of enthusiasm. ‘You’re not looking forward to university?’

  ‘Not yet.’ My lips turned down. ‘But only because I can’t imagine leaving here.’

  He regarded me thoughtfully. ‘You don’t miss your boyfriend?’

  ‘My boyfriend?’ I was taken aback. ‘I don’t have one.’

  His eyes widened. ‘No?’

  ‘I did, but we broke up at Christmas.’

  ‘Aah.’ He gave me a knowing look. ‘Swedish Pete got his facts wrong.’

  ‘Swedish Pete again?’ I asked with a disbelieving giggle.

  He grinned. ‘I think he was a little besotted with you.’

  I laughed and pulled a face.

  We fell silent as we returned our attention to the view. I tried to relax and recapture the sense of tranquillity from earlier in the day, but my breathing was shallow and I felt strangely skittish.

  The sun was dipping below the clouds.

  ‘Going...’ I said.

  ‘Going...’ he said.

  ‘Gone,’ we both finished at the same time, turning to face each other. I shivered.

  ‘You’re cold. We should go back inside,’ he said, placing his hand on my arm. I stared up at him for a long few seconds before lowering my gaze to see his smile slowly fading. I met his eyes again and involuntarily stepped closer. A moment later, his lips were on mine.