The Perfect Present

by Karen Swan

  ‘Laura, you are a guest and as welcome here as anyone else – you don’t have to hide yourself away this weekend. It might make Cat suspicious.’ He cracked a wry smile. ‘But I’ll show you where everything is, anyway.’

  He turned, leading her towards the stairway she’d seen the others come up from. It was significantly smaller than the one at the entrance and led down to a wide corridor with arched doors running along at ten-metre intervals on the left-hand side.

  The first door was open and David, sitting on the edge of the bed, a BlackBerry in his hand, looked up sheepishly. ‘Ah! Do you need me? I won’t be a sec. Just got to dash off a quick—’

  Rob held up his hands. ‘No rush, David. I’m just giving Laura the tour.’

  Relief washed over David’s face. ‘Super,’ he said, looking back down at his screen.

  ‘So this is the cow room,’ he said briefly, giving Laura only just enough time to clock the chocolate-coloured quilted velvet bedspread and thickly padded curtains that puddled dramatically on to the leather floor. Laura spotted a heap of silk, chiffon and sequinned evening dresses already upended on the bed and felt a quiver of panic shoot through her. Exactly how formal was this weekend going to be?

  Rob led her along to the next room. ‘And this is the sheep room,’ he said, opening a door to reveal a similar room in a creamy palette, this time with ivory sheepskin rugs everywhere.

  Laura looked at him questioningly. ‘Cow? Sheep?’

  He gave an embarrassed cough. ‘I made the fatal error of allowing my six-year-old niece to name all the rooms.’

  Laura couldn’t help but smile – a multi-million-pound chalet named after farmyard animals? ‘I see. This should be interesting, then.’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, not meeting her eyes. ‘So Kitty’s in here, and Orlando’s in the next one.’

  He opened the next door to reveal a butterscotch and cream colourway with gingham curtains at the windows. Laura looked at him quizzically. She couldn’t work out how this fitted into the theme.

  ‘Palomino pony,’ he sighed.

  ‘Very specific,’ she giggled.

  ‘Mmm,’ he said, closing the door quickly. ‘So that’s this floor. All the rooms are en suite, of course.’

  Of course, she echoed in her head, following him down another flight of stairs.

  ‘And this is the spa,’ he said, motioning towards a vast pool bordered with huge slate tiles and replenished by a flat, minimalist chute at one end, with wall-to-wall picture windows on the far side. Behind the pool was an arrangement of sofas with magazines – fashion, economic, current affairs – fanned across a low table.

  ‘So down here there’s a steam room, snow room and sauna, jacuzzi and a massage room. Both Sasha and Gemma, the house staff, are fully trained in shiatsu, Swedish, Thai, hot stone, reflexology . . . whatever you like. Just try to let them know the morning you’d like a treatment so they can order their schedules accordingly.’

  ‘Okay,’ she managed. She had absolutely no intention of indulging. She was here to work. ‘What’s a snow room?’

  ‘It releases snow on you. It’s like a steam room, but cold.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘It reduces inflammation, amongst other things – helpful if you pick up a niggle on the slopes.’ He pointed to a narrow corridor beyond the treatment rooms. ‘The cinema’s back there, and the staff’s bedrooms are just beyond it, so I ask guests as a courtesy not to wander back there unless we’ve scheduled a film night.’

  ‘Of course. Is my room down there?’ she asked, thumbing the way.

  Rob frowned at her. ‘Of course not.’ He turned and led her towards a door in the corner. He pressed a button on the wall and the doors pinged open. A lift!

  She stepped in after him, aware of how tiny the space was. It couldn’t really fit more than four people at a time and she kept her eyes up, away from the mirrors, as they sped up through the house.

  ‘This is the top floor,’ Rob said when the doors opened, and they stepped into a thick-piled carpet that almost swallowed her feet. Further along the corridor, she could see the stone floor and balustrade of the entrance hall. ‘There are three suites up here.’

  ‘I’m in a suite?’

  ‘Yes. Well, you’re going to need to work, aren’t you, and there’s more room in these. Plus they’re quieter for the interviews.’

  ‘Oh.’

  He opened a door into a large room that was a symphony of dusty pinks. She couldn’t help but smile. ‘The Pig room?’ she asked, arching an eyebrow.

  Rob smiled back. ‘I prefer to call it the Old Spot suite.’

  ‘I’m sure you do.’

  Rob pointed towards a door to their left. ‘Cat and I are in the Leopard suite on the corner there.’ Then he pointed to the right. ‘And Alex and Isabella are in the Drake at the other end.’

  ‘I think I can probably guess what they look like.’ From the sounds of their room she wasn’t sure she wanted to see it. Leopard suite? It sounded more Vegas than Verbier.

  He walked further into the pink room and Laura followed him in, seeing her bags had already been brought up and deposited beside the wardrobe. The same muted pink velvet had been used for both the bed coverings and curtains, which had four rows of tiny pleated mushroom silk ruffles running down the centre panels, and a deeply pocketed slipper seat was positioned at the end of the bed. Laura walked over to the windows and peered down over the valley. The lights from all the other chalets twinkled beneath her like a starlit sky reflected in water. She could scarcely wait for morning to come and the view with it.

  ‘There’s a place for you to work at, obviously,’ Rob said, indicating the antique George IV desk alongside the wall, ‘and the bathroom’s just over here,’ he continued, pressing a button that looked nothing like a light switch but the lights came on anyway, revealing whisper-pink marble and a steam shower. ‘And that’s it. That’s everything,’ he shrugged. ‘So at least you know where you are now.’

  ‘Yes, heaven on earth,’ she smiled, just as her mobile buzzed in her pocket. ‘Oh, that’ll be Jack.’

  ‘Right,’ Rob said. ‘Well, I’ll give you some privacy. Come back down when you’re ready.’

  ‘Actually, if it’s okay with you, I will just turn in for the night, now I’m here. I’ve been working long hours recently and I’m really tired.’

  Rob looked sceptical. It was barely nine o’clock, but she desperately wanted a warm bath, a painkiller and to curl up in bed. The first day ‘on’ was always the worst.

  He looked at the phone still ringing in her hand. ‘Fine. Breakfast is anytime from seven. The first lift opens at eight forty-five a.m.’

  ‘Oh, but I don’t . . . ski,’ she said, but the door had already closed on her. Natch.

  She pressed connect. ‘Hi, Jack.’

  ‘Hi! How’s it going over there?’

  ‘Fine. We only got here half an hour ago.’

  ‘How was the journey?’

  ‘Fine. On time.’

  ‘Where are you? It sounds like you’re in a club. I can hear Chris Martin from here.’

  ‘I’m in my room. Everyone’s up for a party downstairs, so I thought I’d have an early night.’ Rejoicing, she didn’t add.

  ‘Uh-huh. Is it nice there?’

  ‘Oh, you know . . . so-so.’ Her hand brushed the silk velvet beneath her. ‘How’re things over there?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m just waiting for Fee and Paul to swing by and we’ll head off to the pub together.’

  ‘Great. Send them my love.’

  ‘I will.’ A small silence bloomed. ‘Bit chilly here tonight,’ Jack murmured.

  ‘Put another dog on, then.’ Their house was so cold and draughty, it was their favourite joke. He forced a laugh for her sake.

  ‘Arthur’s looking at me as if I’ve done something to you.’ His voice changed and she knew he was talking to the dog. ‘Aren’t you? Why are you looking at me like that? She’s fine. Go and lie in your bed.’ He cam
e back again. ‘He’s missing you.’

  ‘I’m missing both of you.’

  ‘Are you?’ His tone took her aback. Why would he doubt it? Of course she was missing them. But he’d been quiet all week since she’d presented this trip as a fait accompli, as though she had in some way thrown him over.

  She heard the lion’s head knocker rap sharply on their front door.

  ‘Oh. That’ll be them,’ he murmured. ‘I’d better go.’

  ‘Sure. Have fun.’ She heard Fee’s distinctive laugh in the background as she used her own key to get in.

  ‘Hey, Jack! You’re so never gonna guess what just happened to me,’ Fee screeched.

  ‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Okay. Bye.’

  Laura threw the phone on the bed, vividly imagining Fee blowing through the house excitedly in her Friday-night ‘pulling kit’ – skinny jeans and a scoop-neck red top with a sparkly silver belt and vertiginous ankle boots. Almost immediately the vision of Cat downstairs – barefoot, languid and creamy – swam before her eyes. She pulled off her socks and looked down at her own toes sinking into the thick carpet. They were as pale as porridge, the nails a bleached albino that hadn’t seen any kind of colour since her twenties. It was lucky for her that Jack didn’t care about things like that. She wiggled them, wondering how they’d look in jade green. Gangrenous probably.

  She sighed, stripped down to her underwear and turned the bath taps on before wandering back to the windows again. She couldn’t help it, even though she knew all she would see would be the black of night. Just knowing the view was there was enough to accelerate her pulse. She didn’t need to see it to feel it.

  Her eyes began to make out the shadows of the mountains and she knew that being a spectator was going to be the hardest thing about this weekend. Everything about this place was a feast of the senses – the as-yet-unrevealed view, the purer-than-pure air, the heady textures, the music pulsing faintly now beneath her. It all felt strangely intense, as though the colours were stronger, the tastes sweeter.

  She was usually so meticulous about never putting herself in the way of any kind of temptation, but this had been unavoidable. The interviews wouldn’t be completed otherwise, and with the money already spent . . .

  She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She would be fine. It was just a few days and then she’d be—

  The door burst open and she looked up with a gasp. Alex was standing there.

  ‘Oh!’ he said slowly, his two-toned eyes taking in the sight of her in just her bra and knickers. ‘Sorry – wrong room.’

  ‘Th-that’s okay,’ Laura stammered, immediately pulling at the tawny-pink velvet curtains and wrapping them around her.

  A couple of beats passed. ‘Well, sleep tight, Laura-the-jeweller,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  He shut the door, but she didn’t dare move, didn’t dare drop her cover. Only when she heard a door close further down the corridor did she run across the room and lock herself into the bathroom. She told herself not to panic, but how could she not? Rob had told her on the plane that Alex and Isabella had arrived here last night. Which meant he knew perfectly well where his own room was. There’d been nothing accidental about it at all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The view was worth the wait. When Laura opened her eyes nine and a half hours later, she felt her soul shift at the glimpse of Alpine majesty that could be seen through the gap where she’d parted the curtains. She padded over the carpet and opened up the panorama, drawing back the curtains as if she was rolling back a world map. Below a deep blue sky, a scooped-out bowl was crested with jagged peaks, its sides streaked with miles of vertical runs.

  To her delight, Laura saw she had a balcony and she grabbed the bathrobe from the end of the bed. Wrapping herself in it tightly and pulling on a pair of red- and navy-striped fleecy bed socks, she unlocked the doors and stepped out.

  The cold was as breathtaking as the scenery and she shivered, pushing her hands deeply into her pockets as her eyes soaked up the view. It was as different from the flat, grey Suffolk landscape as it was possible to be, and it looked like the snow forecasts had been correct – there was foot upon foot of fresh powdery snow.

  She looked down and saw that beneath her balcony was another that spanned the width of the chalet outside the sitting room, and a further three smaller balconies on the level below that. And to think she’d thought this place poky when they’d arrived!

  She turned and leant back against the verandah to get a better look at what was, for a few short days, anyway, home.

  ‘Morning.’

  Startled, she looked to her right. Rob was sitting at a small table reading his paper on the neighbouring balcony, which appeared to wrap round the corner of the building, ensuring he got the sun from the east and the south. An espresso was steaming before him, sending tiny tendrils of warmth into the cold December sky, and he was already wearing his ski kit – gunmetal-grey trousers and a black thermal top.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Like you wouldn’t believe,’ she said as it hit her for the first time that she hadn’t woken once. She frowned. ‘In fact, I don’t think I moved,’ she said, puzzled.

  ‘Well, that’s got to be a good thing, right?’ he asked, watching her baffled expression.

  ‘I’m just . . . not very used to it, that’s all.’

  ‘Poor sleeper?’

  ‘The worst.’

  ‘Me too,’ he nodded.

  Laura shook her head. ‘I bet my insomnia’s worse.’

  ‘Is it a competition?’ he asked wryly, going back to his paper.

  Laura turned back to face the view again. ‘It looks like you’re going to have an ideal day for skiing,’ she said, searching vainly for clouds.

  ‘Yes. Chilly, though. We’ll have to watch for ice.’

  Laura looked back at him. ‘You must know the runs here really well.’

  ‘Like the back of my hand,’ he said, looking up at the frosted horizon. ‘That’s my favourite over there – Les Attelas. It’s got some couloirs that are pretty extreme.’

  She felt a shiver ripple through her. ‘Do you do blacks?’

  He chuckled, amused. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Off piste?’

  ‘Mainly.’

  ‘Oh.’ She looked over at the balcony on her other side. Alex and Isabella’s. The curtains were firmly shut and she wondered whether they were still sleeping or just not getting out of bed.

  ‘So, what’s your itinerary today?’ Laura asked, wondering when she could grab people between skiing sessions.

  Rob put down his paper, folding it in half. ‘Well, we’ll do a couple of the local runs first thing, just to let everyone find their legs. Then we’re going to take the helicopter round to some of the drops on the back.’

  ‘You’ve got a helicopter?’

  ‘No,’ he smiled. ‘It’s just a charter. Three hours’ heli-skiing.’

  Just a charter. She thought she was being flash when she hailed a cab.

  ‘Then ski back, pop into town if we need to, get here late afternoon and allow everyone some R&R before Orlando’s dinner tonight.’

  ‘Does he know yet?’

  Rob shook his head. ‘We’ll keep it quiet till we’re all dressed and having drinks. Sam thought it would be fun to do Secret Santas as well.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘We’re pulling names out of a hat at breakfast and it’s confidential who you get. Also, you’re not allowed to spend more than five euros,’ he said, shaking his head in dismay as though he didn’t think it possible to spend so little money. He pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. ‘Anyway, you’d better get dressed. You’ll freeze out here in just that. I’ll see you downstairs.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, watching him disappear into his room and feeling no more enlightened as to the structure of her day than she had a few minutes ago. Whe
n was she supposed to grab everybody for their interviews? And would they really want to talk about Cat when they’d spent the day jumping out of helicopters and bombing down mountains? This might not be as easy as he’d led her to believe.

  Everybody was already seated at the long table when Laura came down forty minutes later. Half that time had been spent trying to turn the shower on, the other half convincing herself to finally come out again. She’d have stayed in for hours if she could. After her complete night’s sleep and the deep steam clean, she felt positively glowing.

  She self-consciously pulled her belted cardigan tighter into her waist as everyone looked up at her approach.

  ‘Morning,’ David said in a jolly voice as he reached over for the freshly squeezed orange juice, his BlackBerry next to his water glass.

  ‘Laura, I saved you a place!’ Kitty called, patting the empty seat next to her.

  Sam shot Kitty a look.

  ‘Morning, everyone,’ Laura mumbled as she sat down, aware of Alex opposite her, staring.

  ‘Sleep well?’ he asked, passing her a glass of juice.

  Laura nodded without meeting his eyes.

  ‘Honestly, I was tempted to sleep on my floor,’ Kitty said through a mouthful of porridge sprinkled with sesame seeds, honey and chopped banana. ‘Have you seen the sheepskin rugs in my room? I could lose one of the kids in them – like a gateway to Narnia or something. Actually, there’s an idea . . .’ she chuckled, making Cat, who was sitting next to Sam, shake her head fondly.

  ‘You look like you slept well, Laura,’ Cat smiled, spearing a slice of kiwi fruit.

  ‘So well, thanks.’

  ‘Can you pass the butter, Kit?’ Rob asked.

  Sam, dressed in a black all-in-one ski suit that she had rolled down to her waist, held a solitary cup of black coffee in her pale hands. Her hair flamed dramatically against her clothes, although she looked washed out and had dark circles under her eyes. Orlando was sitting next to her, looking just as bad, although just as chic in navy.

  ‘What time did you two go to bed last night?’ Isabella asked, merriment playing on her lips.

  Orlando groaned. ‘Four.’