Chalet Girls

by Lorraine Wilson

  Although, when I see the line he takes down the mountain, sliding on virtually vertical stretches of scree and accelerating when he hits patches of ice, the breath catches in my chest. A small part of me reluctantly agrees. But where do we draw the line between madness and bravery? And who gets to decide where it lies?

  Perhaps he‘s both mad and brave, essential characteristics for a pioneer, someone capable of transcending the ordinary with the extraordinary.

  The camera follows his path down the mountainside. Whenever he leaps to a decent patch of snow he part-glides, part-dances on the snow‘s crust. He moves so gracefully it‘s like he‘s in tune with the mountain. As though he‘s dancing in time to a mountain heartbeat no one else can hear but him.

  I expected his skill but didn‘t anticipate anything so beautiful or so moving. It stirs me deep down, opening up a visceral yearning.

  Could I ever move that gracefully? My grandmother was the one who taught me to dream big. Before she died she told me to go out into the world and take all the opportunities she never had. She never left the Scottish Highlands to travel and she always regretted it. I know she loved Granddad but he was traditional and controlling. She made me promise never to tie myself to a man who tried to crush my dreams. I‘ll always be grateful to her for giving me the courage to defy Mum and Dad and come to Verbier.

  When the film ends the crowd erupts in enthusiastic applause. I ease back into my chair, disappointed it‘s over. Only now do I finally breathe out properly. I‘d no idea I was even holding my breath.

  My skin prickles again and I sense an intent stare from the person sitting beside me, demanding my attention. I bite my lip. It could be someone I know. I wasn‘t really looking when I sat down, I was too busy nabbing the seat. It would be rude not to acknowledge them. Reluctantly I turn and my eyebrows shoot up.

  ‘Oh my God.’ I‘m staring directly back at the subject of the film, at Sebastien Laroche himself. His eyes flicker with amusement.

  ‘I‘ve been called a lot of things in my life but never God.’ He grins, a hint of wickedness in the curve of his mouth. ‘I‘m not sure I‘m cut out to be a deity. Too badly behaved.’

  His English is heavily accented with his native French accent but he speaks with a confidence that tells me he doesn‘t give a damn.

  Heat floods my cheeks and I don‘t know where to look. Why did I have to sound so naïve and starstruck? Along with the prickling embarrassment, I‘m aware of something more – a stirring deep inside me. A quickening and an awakening. The look in his eyes when he says ‚badly behaved‘ makes my stomach flip over. I have to say something, right now. I swallow hard.

  ‘Um, that was amazing.’ I gesture towards the screen, admiration finally breaking through my embarrassment.

  ‘I was watching you while the film played. You get it.’ He places a heavy emphasis on the word ‚it‘ and, before I realise what he‘s doing, he takes my hand and places it over his heart. ‘You get it right here.’

  I feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through his cotton cashmere crewneck, it pulses against my palm. I can feel hard muscle beneath the soft, silky fabric. My cheeks burn even hotter.

  ‘Er, yes, I think so.’ I blink and kick myself for umming and erring. This has got to be the most bizarre conversation I‘ve ever had. Yet, as embarrassed as I am, I don‘t want it to end.

  Ever.

  ‘I saw it in your eyes; you were up there, with me.’ His intense gaze is fixed on me, as though I‘m the only person in the room. I always thought that was a cliché, but it‘s how it really feels. Surely he must be aware there are lots of people waiting to speak to him? I‘m sure everyone must be staring at us, but I can‘t break eye contact with Sebastien. He‘s even more mesmerising and twice as charismatic in real life as he was on screen.

  ‘Do you have a name?’ His lips quirk. I try not to fixate on them but it‘s difficult not to imagine what it would be like to be kissed by him.

  ‘Yes …’ I‘m flustered. He still has my hand against his chest and is acting as though the way he‘s behaving is perfectly normal. ‘I‘m Lucy.’

  ‘Lucy,’ he tries out my name, his accent making it sound musical. He smiles. ‘You can call me Seb. Now I‘m afraid you‘ll have to excuse me. I have to go and make nice with the very generous people who give me money to do what I love. Will I see you at the after-party?’

  He lets go of my hand and I instantly wish he hadn‘t broken the connection between us.

  ‘I don‘t think I‘m invited.’ I bite my lip, torn between desire and the urge to scurry back into my shell.

  ‘Pffft.’ He shrugs, a quintessentially French gesture of dismissal. ‘Consider yourself invited. Say you are my guest. Then we can talk some more.’

  ‘I‘m not sure …’ I‘m wasting my breath, as he‘s dropped my hand and turned and is already in deep conversation with two men in expensive suits.

  Okay then. I remember to breathe and slip out of my seat, heart thumping, as I make my way out of the tent, gaze lowered to the ground.

  That was … surreal. I‘m going to assume I had some kind of meltdown or fell asleep and daydreamed that encounter. There‘s no way I‘m going to some after-party. Parties are hellish enough when you know people, but making small talk with lots of strangers? It‘s not going to happen. The only place I‘m going is back to my bunk at Chalet Repos.

  Chapter 2

  From: sandratrent@gmail.com

  To: sophietrent@hotmail.com

  Re: The Lodge Hotel

  Sophie darling, didn’t you get my other messages? I really need you to get back to me ASAP so we can start planning the wedding.

  I know you said there’s no hurry but I don’t think you realise how far in advance wedding venues get booked up. Rita from the WI has a daughter who works at the Lodge Hotel – they’ve had a cancellation for the second Saturday in May next year but we have to act quickly if we want that date.

  I’m so looking forward to planning you a wonderful wedding, darling. I can’t wait.

  Anyway, I must go. There’s a pile of ironing to be done and your dad’s calling for his coffee. We both know how grumpy he gets when he’s caffeine-deprived so I’d better get on.

  Give our best to Luc.

  Love,

  Mum

  SOPHIE

  I thrust my phone to the bottom of my bag, wishing it were as easy to squash down my anxiety. Emails can be ignored, for a little while, at least. Emotional procrastination is more difficult and worse for your health. I can feel a stress headache pulsing at my temples but force a smile to my lips and make an effort to tune back into the conversation.

  ‘Wow. This chalet is freakin’ amazing. Can we go and see the basement spa now? Pretty please?’ Tash practically bounces on the spot, her childlike glee at odds with her immaculate and elaborate make-up.

  ‘Absolutely, but no stripping off.’ Holly catches my eye and grins. We both know there’s no containing Tash when she’s in one of her exuberant moods.

  ‘Spoil sport,’ Tash pouts.

  ‘Well, not until after midnight anyway.’ Holly concedes. ‘The other guests should be mostly drunk by then. But, given it’s Sophie’s engagement party, maybe you should check with her before you do anything, erm, too outrageous.

  My engagement party.

  The words cause another worm of anxiety to squirm in my stomach.

  ‘Please, like I’ve ever been able to stop Tash stripping off.’ I shrug. ‘But we’re celebrating Amelia’s engagement tonight too and I’m not sure she’d be happy about it.’

  Amelia got engaged a while before me, but when planning the party Holly realised she hadn’t done anything for Amelia and was worried she’d take offence. Holly was probably right, but I actually don’t mind in the slightest. I’ve got no problem with sharing the party with Amelia and, if anyone else wants to take some of the limelight off me, they’re very welcome to it.

  ‘Who’s stripping off?’ Nate comes into the room with Scott and L
uc.

  ‘Your girlfriend,’ Holly says.

  Nate rolls his eyes but they twinkle with good humour and the gesture is accompanied by an amused quirk of the lips. ‘That’s my girl.’

  ‘You’re all looking very glamorous.’ Scott makes a show of looking us up and down. ‘Especially my lovely wife, of course. It’s nice to see you all in dresses for a change.’

  ‘I love you very much, my sexist dinosaur husband, but I would like to point out that party dresses aren’t exactly practical clothing in a ski resort.’ Holly pretends to huff. ‘Anyway, glamorous clothes also tend to be dry-clean only. In other words, they’re very baby-unfriendly.’

  ‘You know, I think you look gorgeous in anything.’ Scott smiles fondly at Holly, tucking a stray strand of auburn hair back into her up-do. ‘Now, who’d like a private tour before the party guests arrive? I think we’re all set up now.’

  Luc slips behind me and plants a kiss on the top of my head. When he wraps his arms around me some of my tension ebbs away and I almost believe everything might be okay.

  Almost.

  ‘Thanks so much for this. We really appreciate it.’ I follow Scott and Holly down the corridor.

  ‘No problem, Sophie, it‘s our engagement present to you,’ Scott smiles. ‘Holly and I wanted to do something special for you and Amelia. Plus we really want to show off how Chalet Amélie is coming along.’

  ‘It‘s gorgeous, Scott. I thought Chalet Repos was special, but this is something else.’

  I mean it too. It hits just the right note between traditional Swiss chalet and modern home. I adore the mini library and snug on the mezzanine gallery looking down onto the double-height living room. The whole wall facing the valley is glass with an arching timber frame and we‘re looking straight out onto snow-capped mountain peaks. I love the double-sided fireplace facing out onto the dining area on one side and the huge u-shaped leather seating unit festooned with silky faux-fur throws on the other. The kitchen is all modern – sleek black units, granite worktops and shiny chrome fittings. Not to mention two large island units. I‘ve never had a kitchen big enough to house even one island unit.

  ‘I think I have kitchen-envy,’ I whisper to Holly. ‘Actually, scrub that, I have chalet envy.’

  I love the cosy little flat I share with Luc above Bar des Amis, but I dream of living in a chalet like this. Maybe one day we‘ll be able to build our own little chalet further away from Verbier where land prices are cheaper. I enjoyed my time living and working at Chalet Repos, but definitely don‘t miss sharing the cramped dorm room with three other girls.

  ‘I know,’ Holly whispers back, looking over my shoulder to check Scott isn‘t listening. She needn‘t worry, the men are all engrossed checking out the fancy espresso machine and talking about controlling the under-floor heating with an iPhone app. ‘It seems such a shame to waste all this on paying guests, but Scott and Nate keep reminding me it‘s a business. We‘ve had to up our game a bit. People are starting to expect more from a luxury chalet rental.’

  Scott catches the end of the conversation. ‘And they‘re getting more. Come on, I‘ll show you some of the chalet‘s special features. The guest suites aren‘t quite finished yet but the cinema room and games room are done.’

  ‘There‘s a cinema room?’ Luc raises his eyebrows.

  ‘Yes. It‘s expected now, for this class of chalet. We also have an indoor heated pool, indoor and outdoor Jacuzzis, a steam room and sauna, a spa treatment room, a gym with plasma TV, DVD and music system, a games room with pool table, a party area with disco ball and bar, oh and a wine cellar.’ Scott ticks the features off on his fingers.

  ‘I think I want to move in,’ Luc sighs. ‘Will you adopt us?’

  His words, so carelessly spoken, make the worm of anxiety writhe and squirm inside me.

  ‘If you like,’ Holly grins. ‘I want to move in here, but Scott won‘t let me. He says paying guests won‘t appreciate a crying baby in situ and I suppose having our own space is best. Never mind, it‘s perfect for a party, and there are no guests booked in until Christmas.’

  Holly breaks off to check her phone, forehead creased.

  ‘I‘m sure Maddie is fine, Holly. The babysitter will ring if there‘s a problem,’ I say for the umpteenth time this evening.

  ‘I know, I was checking the signal, in case there‘s no reception.’ She pulls a face. ‘It is the first time I‘ve left her for an entire evening and she‘s still so tiny. It‘s hard. Like I‘m missing a limb or something. Although, I‘ll admit it‘s nice to be wearing something other than pyjamas at seven p.m.’

  We make our way down to the spa. Dark slate tiles and mood lighting create the ambience of a cave. An extremely luxurious cave with sleek S-curved loungers and coloured lights dancing on the turquoise pool‘s surface.

  ‘It has an aromatherapy shower and a cold plunge pool.’ Scott leads us along the side of the pool to the spa area and treatment room with massage table.

  Voices upstairs interrupt our tour.

  ‘That‘s probably Amelia and Matt.’ Holly touches Scott‘s elbow and tugs him away from a discussion with Nate and Luc about how the aromatherapy shower works. ‘And the guests will start arriving soon. We should go up.’

  We head back upstairs and when Amelia sees me I‘m greeted to a no-contact double air-kiss that‘s more like assault by perfume fumes than a friendly greeting. The whole air-kissing thing is so phoney. When we were both working at Chalet Repos and sharing a dorm room we never greeted each other with air-kisses. Getting engaged and then promoted has changed her – and not for the better.

  I catch Tash rolling her eyes behind Amelia‘s back. Funny how Amelia doesn‘t try to air-kiss Tash. Now, that would be entertaining.

  ‘So, how are the wedding plans coming along, Sophie?’ Amelia asks once she‘s finished doing the double-kiss thing with Luc. Although I notice he didn‘t get the no-contact version – there was definite lip-brushing cheek action going on. Funny that. Hmm.

  ‘Um, well it‘s still early days,’ I avoid looking at Luc and try to suppress my rising panic.

  ‘Oh, you shouldn‘t leave it too late. I‘ve been planning since the day after Matt proposed.’

  ‘If not before,’ Tash mutters.

  I suppress a giggle. ‘Really? Have you had a tour of Chalet Amélie yet? The spa looks amazing.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Amelia‘s fixed smile doesn‘t waver.

  ‘I bet you wish Holly had put you and Matt in charge of Chalet Amélie instead of Chalet Repos.’ Tash is also smiling, but the hint of snark is unmistakable.

  ‘Which chalet did Holly put you in charge of? Oh wait, she didn‘t. Sorry, I forgot.’ Amelia steers the conversation into treacherous waters.

  Time to head for the lifeboats.

  ‘We‘re going to get a drink.’ I steer Tash away before she can open her mouth.

  ‘Ignore her,’ I whisper in Tash‘s ear. ‘You‘ve got a whole season to get through. Pace yourself.’

  ‘I might need more than one drink,’ Tash sighs.

  While helping ourselves to champagne cocktails we bump into Emily.

  ‘Hi Sophie, how are the wedding plans coming along?’ She smiles brightly.

  Arghh. Why does everyone assume I must have a one-track mind because I‘m engaged?

  ‘It‘s a bit … complicated,’ I hedge. It‘s going to be a long evening. ‘Have you and Jake moved in here yet?’

  ‘We‘re moving in at the weekend so we can be on site to oversee the rest of the work,’ Emily beams. ‘Oh hi, Tash, how are you?’

  ‘Great thanks,’ Tash mumbles. ‘I‘m going to find Nate.’

  ‘Sorry, Sophie, I‘ve got to head off too. I need to find Holly. I‘ll catch you later.’ Emily grimaces apologetically and follows Tash.

  I make my way up to the snug on the gallery before anyone else can ask how the wedding plans are going. I‘m keen to see what books they‘ve put in the library area. Books have been my escape my whole life, from read
ing Sweet Valley High novels in the school library to hide from bullies to romance novels – a pleasure I refuse to feel guilty for. What’s so wrong with feel-good escapism? I don’t need depressing realism when I’m trying to relax.

  After a happy ten minutes scanning the books I settle into an armchair with my drink, preparing to be thoroughly anti-social until Holly or Tash appear to drag me back into the fray.

  It’s then that I spot him on a sofa below.

  Him.

  Thomas.

  The ghost of ski seasons past. The cause of so much misery and pain.

  Something twists painfully deep inside me and my stomach cramps. It‘s far worse than the anxiety worm this time; it’s bigger and more dangerous. It has fangs.

  Fangs that have dripped poison into my relationship with Luc.

  I press back into my chair, even though he‘s not looking up and I‘m well hidden.

  Crap. Crap. Crap. What do I do?

  I stay where I am, frozen, heart thudding until Holly, Tash and Lucy come up to find me. Part of me is glad of the friend armour now surrounding me but I‘m in too much of a state to hide anything from them. They know me too well.

  ‘It‘s your party, Sophie, you can‘t hide up here.’ Holly peers down at me, narrowing her eyes and frowning. ‘Hey, what‘s up?’

  ‘He‘s here. What‘s he doing here?’ I whisper. Something wet splashes on my lap. I look down to see my hands are trembling, spilling my drink onto my dress. Lucy takes the glass off me and Tash kneels down beside my chair, squeezing my hand.

  ‘Who are you talking about, Soph?’ Holly asks, forehead creased. ‘Who‘s here?’

  ‘Thomas,’ I whisper, trying to sink further down in my seat. I take my hand back from Tash and wrap my arms around my still-cramping stomach.

  ‘Oh.’ Holly‘s eyes widen.

  ‘What? That Thomas?’ Tash’s voice is much louder than I’d like.

  ‘Ssh, yes, that Thomas.’ I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and take a deep breath before opening them again. I think I might be sick.