by Dani Atkins
It had been a schoolgirl crush; deep-down, of course I’d always known that. It was something I should have let go of a long time ago. It was nothing; a moment, a single day, its life span shorter than that of an exotic butterfly, born and dying all within twenty-four hours. No wonder he didn’t remember me. But still, unless he rescued injured seventeen-year-old girls from snow-covered slopes every day of the week, you’d have thought that something of the incident would have stayed with him. Just the smallest lingering recollection? Apparently not.
I have no idea what drivelling nonsense I responded with when they quizzed me, like a team of interrogators, about my year in California. I guess I didn’t say anything too outrageous or ridiculous. I do remember one of the boys asking me if I had a boyfriend, and I’d allowed my eyes to flicker in David’s direction to see if he looked in the slightest bit interested in my reply. His face was an impassive blank canvas.
‘No one special. Besides, I’ve only been back in the UK a few weeks, I’m going to need time to wean myself off the American jocks before I start looking around.’ I forced myself to laugh along with the rest of them at my small attempt at humour.
‘You and David should get together,’ said Andrew, his mouth half-full of chocolate digestive. I felt my fingers tighten around the handle of my mug, with enough force that I was in danger of breaking it clean off. ‘He’s just got back from a summer in the good old U S of A,’ Andrew continued, foraging in the tin for another gold-wrapped biscuit as he spoke. ‘You two probably have loads in common.’
More than you know, I thought, before replying offhandedly, ‘Hmm maybe.’
Another quick glance at David, who didn’t even appear to be following the group conversation any longer, his attention totally on the girl curled within his arms.
That first week was a gruelling test of endurance. It was like an exam that I was determined to pass. I would get through this, I would not let a childish teenage fantasy dictate the life I lived now. Unfortunately, as the university term hadn’t yet begun, no one had lectures to attend, nor a home of their own to go back to, I found myself thinking with irritation, when Ally showed no sign of returning to her own house. She was never far from David’s side, nor he hers, making it practically impossible to catch him alone, not that I had even the smallest of clues as to what I would say to him if I did.
Thankfully things got a little easier with each passing day. At nights I allowed myself to be dragged out by my remaining housemates to what they assured me were the best drinking holes and clubbing hotspots in town. At least it spared me from having to watch David and Ally hand-in-hand quietly climbing the stairs to his room each night. And by the time I returned home, considerably less tipsy than my companions, I was too exhausted to fixate on the oblong shaft of light scything out from beneath David’s door, or worse, straining my ears for the sound of squeaking bed springs in the silent house. I had spent so many nights going to sleep with my own fantasy version of David, it was going to take some time to adjust to the fact that the real-life version was literally just across the corridor from me. In the arms of another woman.
The house was surprisingly quiet as I prepared breakfast for myself later in the week. I ate my cereal standing propped up against the kitchen worktop, feeling the chill of the cold marble surface against the small of my back, where the skimpy vest top of my pyjamas didn’t quite reach the bottoms. I put my bowl into the sink, which was already overflowing with the breakfast crockery paraphernalia of my housemates. Lectures were now well underway, so I guess everyone had been in too much of a hurry to load the dishwasher. I realised with a touch of guilt that I didn’t even know which cupboard housed that appliance, and that it had probably been Ally who’d taken over that particular chore for the last few days. For some reason that made me angry, as though she had won yet another round in a contest she didn’t even know she was competing in. I found the dishwasher – really guys, it wasn’t that hard – and began to rinse the accumulated plates before loading them into the machine. I turned the tap on full and a cold jet of water hit a plate, spraying me from collarbone to midriff. ‘Terrific,’ I muttered, peeling the saturated vest from my skin. It clung determinedly to my breasts and despite the discomfort I gave a twisted smile, knowing how much Mike would have enjoyed the impromptu spring break contest.
I was still fiddling around with my top when the kitchen door soundlessly swung open and David entered the room. His eyes took in everything, including the skimpy garment which outlined the fullness of my breasts, their nipples embarrassingly prominent, thanks to the temperature of the water.
‘Interesting look,’ he observed, his tone giving absolutely nothing away, but he opened a drawer and tossed a small fluffy hand towel my way. ‘Here.’
I swabbed ineffectually at the top while he filled the kettle and reached for a mug from the rack.
‘Coffee?’
I nodded in reply, suddenly shy at being alone with him, and that had absolutely nothing at all to do with the state of my clothing. ‘Is Ally still upstairs?’ I asked, and then cursed myself for bringing her instantly into the only private moment we had shared since I’d moved in.
‘No. She had a nine o’clock seminar. She won’t be around here so much now term’s started. She does a lot of music society stuff, and spends an inordinate amount of time in the library.’ He smiled crookedly and my heart tripped a little, because it was just as I remembered it. ‘She’s determined to get a First, and she will too. I’ve never known anyone work so damn hard for anything.’
‘Good for her,’ I said, and surprisingly I meant it. I liked his girlfriend, or what I knew of her, which admittedly wasn’t much. What I didn’t like about her was that she was his girlfriend, or that anyone was, come to that. ‘I think I’m going to struggle to get back into the work ethic. It was a more relaxed vibe out in California,’ I confessed.
David passed me my coffee and I was very careful to make sure my hand never touched his in the exchange. I had the cup raised to my lips when he asked softly, ‘So how come the year in America? I thought you said that when you got to university you were just going to stay put for the entire three years.’
Coffee burnt my tongue and the roof of my mouth, but I wouldn’t realise that until much later. I looked at him over the hazy steam rising from the mug, my eyes wide with shocked surprise.
‘You remember?’ My voice was a hushed whisper, as though we were talking in church. ‘You know who I am? You remember me?’
He shook his head gently as though he couldn’t believe I had asked that question. ‘Of course I remember you, Charlie girl. You’re not the sort of person who is easily forgotten.’
I opened my mouth, and then closed it again, temporarily lost for a reply. His eyes watched me carefully. Not only did he know who I was, he also remembered the things I had told him during the hours we were marooned. He had even remembered the stupid nickname he had given me. My eyes went to his and then of their own volition dropped down to his lips. I wondered what else he remembered.
‘I didn’t want to say anything in front of the other guys . . . I didn’t want to make things awkward for you.’
I nodded carefully. ‘I get that. Thanks.’
He shifted his weight suddenly, and dropped his eyes to the contents of his coffee mug, as though the script of what he wanted to say next was written on its ceramic interior. ‘I also didn’t think it was necessary to say anything to Ally about us having met before . . .’ His voice trailed away, but there was a question within it. He was asking me if it was okay to keep our previous encounter a secret. I closed my eyes for a moment, teetering on the edge of a decision, much as I had teetered on the precipice as the hurtling wall of snow came tumbling down the mountainside behind me.
‘Obviously, if you’re in any way uncomfortable about that . . . well, then I’ll explain it to everyone. It just seemed as though it might be simpler if we kept what happened that day, back there on the mountainside. It was a long time ag
o.’
I tried hard not to show that I understood perfectly what he was saying here. I read the sub-text as though it was highlighted in neon marker pen. He had no need to worry, I was far from being the innocent dewy-eyed girl who he had rushed to help five years earlier. He’d moved on, and didn’t want to jeopardise his present relationship by revealing the surprising and unexpected attraction that had grown like an exquisite crystal out of the snow surrounding us on the mountain, and had then melted away almost as rapidly when we left it behind.
‘Sure,’ I said, trying to feign a nonchalant little shrug. ‘Consider it forgotten.’
A small spasm crossed his face, and for the life of me I didn’t know why. I was agreeing to his request, wasn’t I? Yet if I didn’t know better I’d have thought he looked almost disappointed at my easy capitulation.
For someone who wanted the whole incident to remain unspoken, he seemed strangely reluctant to let it go. ‘So, your ankle healed up okay? You don’t seem to have a limp or anything.’ I extended my bare foot and rotated it for his inspection.
‘It was a clean break. It healed well,’ I informed him, and then realised my words could equally apply to our own transitory relationship. It had certainly been a clean break, no denying that. But unfortunately I don’t think I had healed from it nearly as well as he had done.
‘Do you still ski?’
‘Yes. There’s no reason not to. It was just one of those bizarre freak occurrences that you can’t predict or control.’ Once again, my words could easily be referring to so much more than just the avalanche.
‘So, we’re good here, are we?’ David asked, suddenly sounding far less certain and assured than he had done before. It was almost as though proximity to me was drawing the nineteen-year-old back out of the man once more.
‘Absolutely,’ I affirmed and then he went and ruined everything by reaching out his hand and lightly touching the bare skin on my upper arm, and a million nerve endings screamed out in reaction. I could lie to his friends, his girlfriend, even to him if I had to, but there was one person who recognised that the past still had the power to snatch us back and reignite feelings that should have died a long time ago. Me.
Charlotte – Thirteen Years Earlier
I suppose the accident was my fault. Not the avalanche itself, of course; that had been caused by the heavy overnight snowfall, the change in wind direction and the heat of the sun. But the fact that I was caught up in it couldn’t be blamed on anyone else but me. With hindsight and the passage of time I was at least able to acknowledge that. Put an angry and frustrated teenager in a ski resort for ten days and force her to act as a buffer as she watches the gradual disintegration of her parents’ marriage, and it all gets a little easier to understand. Throw in a handful of recklessness, a large dose of overconfidence and a casually overheard conversation about an exhilarating off-piste ski run, and the recipe for disaster is almost complete.
The group of boys who entered the ski and boot room directly ahead of me couldn’t have been more than a couple of years older than I was, although every one of them towered above me, making me feel suddenly much younger than my seventeen years. In the small cosily heated room it was impossible not to overhear their conversation as I located my skis and comfortably dry boots. From what I could make out, they were planning to abandon the ‘tame’ tourist-heavy runs for something a little more challenging that morning. I’m not sure when the idea of tagging along with them occurred to me, or why. No, scratch that, I knew why. I’d been testing and pushing against every rule and restraint that had been imposed on me for quite a while; it was only a matter of time before I did something downright foolish. I had scribbled a brief note and slipped it beneath my parents’ door, before leaving the hotel for the slopes. My mother was probably still asleep, and my father . . . well, if the shouted recriminations of the previous night were correct, he too could still be in bed. Just not with my mother, that’s all.
I spoke hesitantly, my voice barely louder than a whisper, to a young lad with bright ginger hair as we queued for the cable car which would take us up the mountain. ‘Would it be okay if I tagged along behind you guys when we get up there?’ I nodded my head to indicate the summit, which the cable car was jerkily dancing us towards. The boy turned his bright blue eyes on me, and the reluctance in them was easy to read.
‘Er, I’m not sure . . . it’s a pretty challenging descent. How good are you?’
‘Excellent,’ I said with false bravado. ‘Practically professional.’
He snorted, and his eyes crinkled at the edges when he grinned, making me realise he was probably a little closer to my own age than his companions.
‘I’m good enough,’ I said, happy to back-pedal a little. ‘I’ve skied all my life.’
‘Black runs?’ he questioned. I nodded. ‘Me too,’ he replied, ‘But I still had to argue with my older brother all through breakfast before he grudgingly agreed to let me join him and his friends. Bloody brothers,’ he finished with a long-suffering sigh. I gave a sympathetic nod as though I understood how annoying siblings could be, but of course I had absolutely no idea. ‘I’m Rob, by the way,’ my new acquaintance said, suddenly ripping off a glove and offering me his hand.
‘Charlotte,’ I replied, pulling off my own bright pink ski mitt to place my hand in his.
When the cable car came to a jerky stop the passengers jostled out in a jewelled sea of brightly coloured quilted jackets. My red-haired companion hovered a little awkwardly beside me, his eyes on a group of about eight young men standing some distance away to the right of the main pathway. They were laughing and chatting loudly as they bent to fasten skis onto boots.
‘That’s my lot over there,’ he said, lowering his voice, although there was no danger of any of them being able to overhear us. ‘Why don’t you just hang back for a bit and then follow our tracks. Perhaps I’ll see you at the bottom?’
I smiled and nodded, and tried to pretend I didn’t see the hopeful look in his eyes. He seemed nice enough, but I wasn’t interested in yet another five-minute relationship. That was half the trouble, wasn’t it? Absolutely everything in my life had a short expiration date – even my family, it now seemed.
‘Enjoy the ride,’ he said, pushing away from me to join the rest of his party. ‘I bet it’s going to be a real thriller.’
His words were a great deal more prophetic than he could ever have imagined.
As the last of the passengers from our cable car skied away in the direction of the marked run, I heard the voice of caution and good sense speaking firmly in the back of my mind, instructing me to follow them. I ignored it.
I spent longer adjusting my skis and goggles than I needed to, allowing Rob’s group to get a decent head start. I didn’t want them to think I was crashing their party, nor did I want any nosy, bossy older brother sending me away like a naughty schoolgirl. It was a free mountain. They couldn’t prevent me from following their chosen route, could they? I counted to two hundred before digging my ski poles into the crust of white snow and setting off.
It was one of those wonderfully crisp blue-skied days that makes skiing seem like the best activity in the whole world. The snow from the night before was thick and powdery underfoot as I followed the tracks etched in its surface like signposts beckoning me onward. I hesitated for a moment when I came to a fence where the gate had been forced open, creating a small white mountain at its base, a tiny replica of the one I was about to ski down. Was I really going to do this, I thought, frowning at the steep descent which began to fall away almost immediately on the other side of the wooden barrier. I looked down and saw that most of Rob’s group had already begun to ski down the slope. They were already a long way ahead of me. The sun dazzled my eyes as I brought my hand up like a visor and watched them zigzag through the deep unblemished snow, scoring it like an artist etching lines on a canvas. I glanced back in the direction I had just come, the one that led to the marked run. Go . . . don’t go? I teetered for a
minute before gritting my teeth, pulling my ski goggles down from my helmet and heading for the backcountry route.
The first forty-five seconds of my downward journey were unremarkable enough. The last forty-five were totally unforgettable. The route I was following was challenging, but not so much that I couldn’t still appreciate the raw breathtaking beauty of the snowy descent. I wove around rocky outcrops which punctured the blanket of white like sharp grey teeth waiting to bite. The path narrowed and my hands instinctively tightened their grip on my ski poles as I exerted every last ounce of concentration. Beside me to the left the slope fell away sharply, and from the corner of my eye I saw a dense copse of fir trees far below, their branches thick and heavy with snowfall. I remember thinking that they looked so far away and small they seemed almost unreal, toy-like, more closely resembling those tiny decorations you see adorning Christmas cakes, than actual trees.
