Secrets in the Snow, Volume 1: Early season stories from the White Cairns Ski School drama series

by Roz Marshall

  Forbes Sinclair, the middle-aged operations manager of the chairlift company, was giving an update, "...he went under something of a cloud, I'm afraid, and it's left us in a bit of a bind. A man down and all that."

  Geoff looked up from his forms and put his pen down. "Don't worry, we'll manage until you get someone else. We'll just have to do extra shifts, or something."

  "Good of you, good of you. That's a help," Forbes replied and then paused briefly, giving Geoff a meaningful look. "And you realise we'll be looking for a new senior ski patroller to replace him?"

  -::-

  Over at the Ceann Mòr tow, Fiona was organising her class into the queue. One at a time, skiers and snowboarders straddled the plastic ‘buttons’ suspended from the ascending tow line at the bottom of short metal poles, and were dragged upwards until they reached the top, where they would release the button and slide away. But Ceann Mòr was a long tow, stretching so far up the hill that you couldn't see the top, and the poor visibility on that particular day meant that the riders disappeared into the mist after about a hundred yards.

  At the bottom of the tow cable, a small hut housed the machinery and provided shelter for Davie, the liftie, a rough and ready bloke who looked like a roustabout, but had a fanatical predilection for Elvis Presley songs. Even on the worst days, the dulcet tones of The King would serenade the clients as they ascended the tow. And on an especially bad day, Davie would join him in a discordant duet.

  "Right, guys, Mr Paton is going to go up first," Fiona told them, raising her voice to be heard over Elvis' version of 'It's Now or Never'. "When you get to the top, I want you all to wait with him until I get there — I'll be going up last. Remember, if you fall off the tow, just ski back down to the bottom, and Davie here," she pointed over at Davie, who nodded back, "will let you skip the queue and get straight on." She smiled round at them. "But you're all such great skiers that I'm sure you'll get right to the top, first time. Won't you?"

  Those of the children that were paying attention confirmed their agreement as Mr Paton got on the tow.

  The children followed him, one by one, helped by Davie, who was humming under his breath. Fiona, thankful he wasn't actually singing, waved at him as she got on last. "See you!"

  -::-

  Across the mountain on a different run, Callum was waiting with most of his class for the final two girls to come up the Sneachda Deàrrsach tow. He was frowning across the valley at the looming blue-grey clouds, not really paying attention to his group until his Spidey Sense alerted him that something was brewing.

  Natalie had obviously elected herself as ringleader. "Callum?" she said. The missing two girls joined the bottom of the group as she continued, "We were wondering — what d'you do when you're not teaching skiing?"

  He raised one eyebrow. He knew fine well what she was getting at.

  "In the summer, I mean," she clarified.

  Callum thought on his feet and struck a pose. "Can you no tell?"

  They just looked at him.

  He put his arms out and mimed losing his balance. "I'm a tightrope walker. At Blackpool Tower."

  Natalie muttered an aside to the other girls. "Guess where I'm going for my summer holiday?"

  There was a fit of giggling.

  Callum smiled wryly to himself, then quickly skied off, shouting over his shoulder, "C'mon, we can't stand around here all day! Parallels — all the way to the bottom!"

  -::-

  As she was pulled up the hill by the the Ceann Mòr tow, Fiona was multi-tasking — zipping the neck of her jacket to keep out the cold and adjusting her goggles — when she noticed one of the children, sitting on the snow to the side of the tow track, just ahead.

  She shouted, cupping a hand round her mouth to help her voice carry through the wind. "Get up and ski to the bottom and get back on again. We'll wait for you at the top!"

  As she drew level with the child, she realised that it was Amanda, and that she was crying. There was always one.

  With a grimace, she got off the tow, leaving the button seat bouncing along the track until the spring mechanism reeled it in, and slid down to where Amanda was sitting.

  "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" It was hard to tell under the layers, hat and scarf.

  Amanda shook her head.

  Fiona shuffled over and went to take her elbow to help her up. "Right, let’s get you up then, and we'll get on and join the others."

  Aided by Fiona, Amanda got to her feet, pouting. "Don't want to."

  "What? But they're waiting for us at the top. They'll be missing you."

  Amanda folded her arms stubbornly. "Don't want to go."

  Fiona frowned. Maybe if she could get her to the bottom she would make more sense. "Well, we can't stay here. How about following me down to the bottom of the tow? D'you think you can manage that?"

  Amanda nodded, sulkily.

  Well, that was easy! "Right, in behind me," Fiona told her. "Just snowplough, there's not enough room for anything else. Slowly."

  They set off down the side of the tow track, heading for the tow station down below.

  -::-

  In the Ski Patrol office, the phone rang, interrupting Geoff, who sat at the desk reading some papers. He picked it up and listened carefully. "Okay... Uh-huh... Okay... Right, thanks for that. Bye."

  He put the phone down and turned to Forbes, who was making some tea. "Bad news, I'm afraid. That was the Met Office. There's a major storm coming in. So we'll need to close the ski centre and get everyone down to the car park." He saw Forbes's expression. "Sorry."

  "Not your fault, man, blame the weather," Forbes said, putting his untouched cup of tea down on the desk. "Right-ho, I'd better go and tell the ticket office staff and get signs put on the car parks. Could you radio all the lift operators, get them to start herding people off the hill?"

  "Okay, and once they're done," Geoff replied, "I'll radio the rest of the guys and we'll do a final sweep to make sure nobody's been missed."

  Forbes waved as he left the hut. "Roger. Ciao."

  -::-

  Back at the Ceann Mòr tow queue, Fiona was remonstrating with a stubborn Amanda, watched by Davie, who was standing just outside the lift hut, adjusting his scarf to try and disguise a grin.

  "What d'you mean, you don't want to?"

  "Want to stay here. I don't have to go with you."

  "Well, I'm not allowed to leave you on your own. D'you not want to ski or something?"

  There was no answer.

  "Is it the lift, then?"

  This got a flicker of response, and something clicked into place for Fiona. "Amanda, are you scared of heights?"

  The girl nodded, reluctantly.

  "And that's why you don't want to go up the big lift?"

  Another nod.

  "Can I tell you a secret?" Fiona said, conspiratorially, "I'm scared of heights too! Can you believe it, a ski instructor who's scared of heights? But, once I get used to the lifts, I'm fine."

  Fiona gave a moment for her revelation to sink in, and looked up to the top of the hill, realising that the weather was worsening.

  "How about coming up on the same tow as me?" Fiona suggested. "Then you wouldn't have to be on your own — we can go together. And that'll let us catch up with the others — they must be wondering where we are."

  The girl weighed her up, making her decision. "Okay."

  "Brilliant! Right, let’s get ourselves sorted out." Fiona directed Amanda over to the loading point.

  Davie, who had been following the exchange, came over to help. "Now, girlie, you stand in front and put one ski either side of her right ski," he said to Amanda.

  He checked with Fiona: "Your right leg's your strong one, lass?"

  Fiona nodded in agreement as she arranged their position and waited apprehensively for the next button to arrive. Tandem rides up the lift with the instructor were usually reserved for young children, not eight stone divas. Fiona hoped her legs were strong enough.

  The tow
arrived, and Davie passed it to Fiona who slotted it between their legs. "That's it. There you go!" he said.

  They were swept off up the hill to the sounds of a Vegas-cabaret version of 'The Devil in Disguise', which Fiona thought was ironically apt. She shouted back over her shoulder, "I like the music, Davie!"

  As they went, Davie's radio chattered. He put it to his ear, then looked worriedly after them as he listened to Geoff's message.

  MR PATON BANGED his arms against his sides in a futile attempt to generate some heat. It was turning into a whiteout, so bad that he could hardly see the top pylon of the tow, just a few yards away. The rest of the class were huddled together, snuggling into their scarves, or pulling hats over their ears. In the background, little Johnny jiggled up and down as if to warm himself.

  A couple of shapes slid from the top of the lift and Amanda rejoined the group as Fiona skied over to the side of the run to speak to the teacher.

  "Thought you'd abandoned us," he greeted her.

  "No, sorry, I just got held up trying to get one of the kids up the tow."

  "Can you not do something about the weather? It's hellish up here. I can't feel my toes anymore."

  "I wanted to speak to you about that. I can't teach properly in this — it's not safe; I won't be able to see everyone. I think it's best just to get them down the hill as quickly as we can."

  "Sounds good to me."

  "Right. Would you go back marker then, please, and pick up any stragglers?"

  "Sure thing."

  Fiona slid to the front of the group and gave them instructions. "Right, guys, we don't want to hang about here any longer — let's get out of this weather." She pointed down the run. "We'll ski down in a line, one behind the other, behind me, with Mr Paton at the end — like we did before. Everyone ready? Right, let's go."

  The class snaked off behind Fiona and disappeared into the driving snow as Mr Paton pushed off, hoping his frozen feet would thaw enough to turn his skis on the way down.

  -::-

  Halfway down the run, Fiona slid to a halt and the children stopped, strung out behind her. It wasn't quite so wild there, but she still couldn't see the end of the line until they all stopped.

  She started to count, but could tell just by looking that there weren't enough people there. She felt her chest start to constrict, and quickly side-stepped upwards so she could face the group. "Who's missing...?"

  With that, Mr Paton and Amanda emerged from the whirling gloom and joined the class.

  "She fell over, sorry," Mr Paton explained.

  Fiona started her count again. "...eight, nine." She stopped. Muttered to herself. "No!" She turned to the group. "Someone's missing." The children started looking round at each other, trying to work out who wasn't there. Then Fiona figured it out. "Johnny! Did anyone see what happened to him? Mr Paton?"

  Mr Paton shook his head.

  None of the youngsters had seen him, either. A few of them started to look worried as a particularly strong gust of wind whistled past and nearly blew over a couple of the smaller children.

  Mr Paton was his usual helpful self. "We're never going to find him in this. We should get the rest of us down now, into the warm. We can send help for him when we get down."

  "But we can't just leave him!" said Fiona. "Guys — wait here a minute with Mr Paton; I'll go and see if I can work out where Johnny's got to."

  She stepped up the run, retracing their general direction. Adrenaline fuelled her movements, but she didn't get far before the class had disappeared from view.

  The storm whirled around her, snow driving almost horizontally into her face. She could see nothing, could barely tell which way was up. Desperately, she looked from left to right, but still saw nothing.

  She shouted. "Johnny!"

  The wind threw her voice back in her face, its howling deafening any chance of hearing a reply, and mocking her paltry efforts to be heard. Where could he be? She felt like a hand was constricting her throat, and she swallowed, aware that the empty feeling in her stomach was back again, the familiar feeling of loss threatening to engulf her once more. She closed her eyes and breathed out hard, once, twice, again. Calm yourself! Stay strong and you’ll find him.

  The children were tortoising into their collars to keep the wind out, but looked up expectantly as she returned to the group.

  She shook her head. "I'll have to look for him later."

  Mr Paton looked smug.

  "Let me just phone to report what's happened," she added.

  She dug her mobile phone out of an inside pocket, lifted her goggles to see the screen properly and blinked the snow away from her eyes. But what she saw made her shake her head in exasperation, and helped bring her focus back into the here-and-now.

  "There's never any signal up here. So much for full coverage." She tucked the phone away again. "We'll just have to ski down and get Davie to radio it in."

  She turned to the group. "Right, in behind me, like before. Mr Paton, you're back marker again." As she turned to ski off, she added under her breath, “And try not to lose anyone else, this time!”

  -::-

  Davie peered anxiously through the window of his hut, eyes straining to see through the driving snow. When Fiona's group finally appeared at the bottom of the run, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. She came hurrying over, obviously wanting to speak to him, so he pulled his hood up and went back outside. "There you are!"

  "Davie, can you radio down to Ski Patrol for me? One of my kids disappeared somewhere on the top half of the run — he was with us at the top, but we'd lost him by half way. You can't see a thing up there."

  "Nobody saw where he went?"

  "No. The teacher was at the back, and he didn't see anything. Can you radio the patrol, and then help the teacher to get the kids to the bottom? I need to go and look for him." She made to get on the tow.

  "Wait, you canna do that, lass, the hill's closed. Leave him to Ski Patrol. That's their job."

  Fiona grabbed a button as it came past and got on. "I can't, Davie, I've got to go.” Her voice cracked. “I've already lost two children, I can’t lose another."

  As she swooped off into the storm, Davie shook his head at her stubbornness and pulled out his radio.

  AT THE SCHOOL coach, Callum supervised his class as they tried to maintain their cool and climb elegantly up the steps — an impossible task in clumpy ski boots.

  Natalie had contrived to be last on, and stopped beside him.

  She gave what he assumed was meant to be a seductive look and put a hand on his chest. "Thanks for today. It was great."

  He looked down at her hand, then back up, raising an eyebrow. "Glad to be of service! Hope you learned something."

  "Oh, I learned a lot," she dropped her hand but batted her eyelashes at him, then turned to climb up the steps. At the top, she turned back to him with what was obviously meant to sound like an inconsequential afterthought, "See you in the summer!"

  His eyebrows puckered, and he tilted his head.

  "In Blackpool."

  Callum laughed, "Yeah, see you!" But not if he saw her first.

  With a wave, he shouldered his skis and headed back towards the ski school hut, his teenage fan club forgotten.

  Just ahead, he noticed another blue and red uniform, and, recognising the curvy figure, hurried to catch up.

  -::-

  In the long, grey minutes of her ascent, it was impossible not to imagine the worst; Fiona visualised Johnny buried or broken, or just lost forever. As she reached the top of Ceann Mòr tow, she had to fight to clear her mind, forcing the negative images away and ignoring the reflexive cramping in her gut. She was just an indistinct shadow as she slid off the tow and over to the place where the class had been assembled earlier.

  Urgently, she looked around, but saw nothing obviously out of place. "Johnny!" she shouted, but all she heard in reply was the howl of the wind. She tried again, louder this time, "Joooohnnnnyyy!"

  An unexpect
ed lull in the storm caused a momentary improvement in the visibility, and she glimpsed a flash of red over past some rocks at the side of the piste, towards the edge of the hill.

  Taking off her skis, faltering in her haste, she used her ski poles to help her walk through the uneven snow outside of the run. Near a patch of yellow snow, a red scarf was caught between two rocks. She picked it up. He had to be nearby. Why didn’t he answer?

  The snow cleared again briefly, and her stomach cramped violently as she realised she was near the cornice. It was bad enough being there in daylight, feeling like she was on the edge of the world and about to fall off. But in this storm, she couldn't see a thing through the driving snowflakes, which helped the vertigo somewhat but didn't assuage her horror of heights.

  She hunkered down carefully — extremely carefully — put her poles down, and tried to see over the edge without getting too close, shouting, "Johnny!"

  A small voice answered indistinctly, "Help!"

  Gingerly, she lay down on her front and wriggled forward towards the edge. Her breathing was ragged and she had to fight all her instincts to pull back from the brink with every inch that she gained. Only her worry about the child in her charge helped her to override her impulse to shimmy away to safety.

  Johnny’s voice came again, "Help me!" as she crept forwards. Then her heart lurched as some snow broke away from underneath her hand and she panicked as she lost her balance, feeling herself sliding down and forwards...

  -::-

  In the car park, Callum had caught up with Debbie, whose uncomplicated prettiness and Rubenesque curves were a welcome antidote to the make-up and machinations of his teenage pupils.

  "Debbie!"

  Hearing her name, Debbie turned and blinked through the snow. He thought she perhaps seemed a tiny bit pleased to see him.

  "How was your day?" he asked.

  "Oh, not bad. Apart from the weather." She made a face. "How about you?"

  "Oh, you know, the usual," he paused and raised an eyebrow, "fighting my way through blizzards, fending off sex-starved teenagers, saving the world!" He blew smoke off the top of an imaginary handgun. "All in a day's work, Miss Moneypenny."