Rebellion of a Chalet Girl: (A Novella) (Ski Season, Book 5)

by Lorraine Wilson

  The morning after the kind of connected sex she’d had with Nate was hell.

  She knocked on the door, expertly balancing the tray in one hand, hoping her make up effectively disguised her red-rimmed eyes.

  He mustn’t know I’ve been crying.

  “Come in,” Nate called.

  When Tash entered he barely looked up, his eyes glued to his laptop screen.

  “I’ve brought you coffee,” Tash said, putting the tray down on the table.

  “Thanks,” Nate replied, still not looking up, frowning at his screen.

  So that was how it was. Box labelled ‘sex’ now shut up and filed while the ‘work’ box had been opened. He was busy, important…she got that, really she did but today it felt like someone had lit the fuse to a box of fireworks inside her and she’d kill for a hug, for any kind of assurance that she wasn’t disposable trash.

  I don’t do complicated…

  Nate’s words taunted her again. There was no way round it, she knew she was more complicated than the Times’ crossword and the Sudoku puzzles Lucy loved all rolled into one.

  “So it’s, erm, going well?” She couldn’t seem to leave it. She needed something from him.

  Just leave the tray and walk away. Take your dignity with you. You need to act cool. Remember he’s bad for you.

  He shot her coping strategies to pieces. Remembering that had to give her the strength to turn him down if he did want a repeat performance.

  “Yes, fine thanks,” Nate replied distractedly. “Sorry, I’m expecting a call, was there anything else?”

  He finally looked up at met her eyes. The flash of connection she found there startled her again.

  “What’s wrong?” He sighed, rubbing at his forehead and with that sigh Tash felt her last hopes ebbing away.

  She was a nuisance and bothering him, that much was obvious. What could she say anyway? ‘Your staff were nasty to me’. Hardly. Telling tales would make her look petty.

  As to what was really wrong? Well it felt too deep for words, too complicated to be encapsulated in one sentence or two. And it was clear he barely had time for even that.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” She gritted her teeth. “Well, I’ll probably see you later then.”

  “Great, see you later.” Nate smiled briefly but then looked back to his laptop again, Tash seemingly forgotten.

  She turned to leave the room feeling dismissed and very, very small.

  It’s all my own fault. What was I expecting exactly?

  And what would she do with herself now? She wasn’t in the mood to ski.

  Get drunk.

  Tash knew she had a couple of hours free, not enough to ski really, it wasn’t worth the hassle and she wasn’t in the mood.

  Sophie, I need to speak to Sophie.

  Holly felt out of bounds at the moment, distracted and stressed. Tash didn’t want to add to that. But Sophie was always reliable and she’d just got engaged so she was probably floating, nothing Tash confided in her could bring her down.

  Tash headed for the Bar des Amis. She didn’t bother with a coat again. She’d doubtless regret it later when the sun sank down behind the Dents du Midi mountain range and the temperature plummeted but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

  Nate filled her thoughts. With every step she remembered how he’d felt inside her, how he’d teased her body, playing her with expert ease. But it was the memory of him kissing the scars on her arm that threw her the most and threatened to break her resolve to keep him at a distance.

  I don’t do complicated.

  Tash increased her pace, her boots pounding angrily into the compacted snow not yet cleared from the pavements.

  It’s not my bloody fault. I didn’t ask for the things that have made me complicated.

  Hot tears pricked at her eyes.

  Christ, now I’m leaking again.

  This wouldn’t do. What on earth was happening to her? Nate had ripped her open and left her raw and exposed while he got on with building his business empire. No doubt his book was going to be about how wonderful he was and that everyone should be like him.

  You’re not being fair to him. He never promised you anything. Quite the opposite in fact.

  Tash ground her teeth. Life wasn’t fucking fair so why did she have to be? And he hadn’t kept up his side of the bargain. Everyone knew no strings sex wasn’t supposed to be emotional. He’d been the one to detonate the bomb and change the rules, not her.

  Say she did spend the next month having sex with Nate, how was she going to cope when he dumped her and did a bunk back to London?

  Anger pulsed through her veins and rose up in her throat like bile. When she tried to swallow it back down the pain festered inside her, steam building as though she were a pressure cooker coming up to the boil.

  She paused, looking over the barrier next to the road, down the steep drop to the valley below. The barrier could easily be climbed over. If she fell down the mountainside to the rocks below it would all be over. Quickly.

  Stop it, stop it. I won’t…I’m never going down that route again.

  Tash bit the inside of her lip hard, tasting blood on her tongue. Memories she’d stowed away came unbidden to her mind. She remembered the first time she’d tried to kill herself, when she was thirteen years old. She’d taken an overdose, convinced in some warped teenage way she was fated to die like her mother.

  She could picture the faded floral wallpaper in the small box room of her foster family’s house, feel the despair that had washed over her as she swallowed pill after pill. Not a cry for help. What was the point of that? She had nothing but the state’s idea of help and ironically it hadn’t helped one bit.

  She actually wanted to die. And there’d been that doctor at A & E who’d treated her like a toddler who’d swallowed tablets thinking they were Smarties. She could still picture that doctor now with her long dark hair pulled back, thick-rimmed spectacles and a patronising expression.

  “You could have done some serious damage to yourself,” she’d said.

  That had actually been the point.

  The supposed ‘help’ she’d received at the adolescent unit while being assessed had sort of helped but certainly not in the way they’d intended. It’d been there she learnt to cut herself from the other patients. All of the girls were at it and some of the boys. Not one doctor or social worker ever picked up on it. It had certainly reinforced her opinion that adults were stupid and not to be trusted.

  Cutting had helped, in a way. A method of controlling the pain, of coping with the anger.

  With effort she jerked herself out of the memory. This was all Nate’s fault. She was doing fine before he came along. Well maybe not ‘fine’ exactly but she hadn’t had suicidal thoughts or cut herself in years.

  Suicidal.

  The word echoed in her mind, sending a chill down her spine. It was the ultimate rebellion against life itself. It was the final ‘fuck you’ to the world.

  It was part of her past. She wasn’t suicidal now, just remembering the feeling from years ago. There was a big difference.

  Tash gulped huge lungfuls of mountain air and crossed to the other side of the road, away from the steep drop, as though afraid her body might act of its own accord.

  I have to stop this thing with Nate or I might completely lose it.

  If this was how she felt about the prospect of losing Nate after just one night with him then what on earth would it be like after an affair lasting a whole month?

  She pushed away the instinctive desire that rose instantly at the idea of a month’s sex with Nate. Next time, if there was a next time, she had to resist, however difficult it was. Fear clutched at her chest as she realised how close she’d been to the edge back there. The solution was obvious. Any rejection triggered terrible feelings in Tash so she had to employ her age-old technique of avoiding rejection - reject them before they get the chance to reject you.

  It was simple but effective as a defensive measure.


  A pang of disappointment at the decision briefly flickered inside her.

  Tough.

  She couldn’t waver, it would be too dangerous…

  Finally she reached the Bar des Amis, pausing outside the sign-written plate glass window to look in. It was fairly empty, the lunchtime rush was over, and Sophie sat at a table with Amelia. Tash hovered as she’d wanted Sophie to herself this afternoon. Then she noticed the wedding magazines on the table.

  A strange coldness crept over Tash and she backed away, but not before Sophie had looked up and noticed her.

  Sophie walked quickly to the door and came out. Luc’s dog Max ran out first, jumping up excitedly at Tash. She usually brought him left over sausages from breakfast when she came by.

  “Nothing today Maxie boy, sorry.” Tash scratched him on the head and stroked his velvety ears, thinking it might be nice to have the kind of lifestyle where she could have a dog. She’d never had a pet. Not even a rabbit…

  Sophie hurried towards Tash, her smile faltering when she saw Tash’s smudged eye make-up.

  “Come here you,” Sophie said softly, her tone so full of love Tash struggled not to burst into tears there and then. She guessed Sophie was talking to her and not to the dog. She hoped so anyway.

  Tash walked towards her and let Sophie envelope her in a big hug.

  “Hey you,” Sophie whispered into Tash’s ear.

  “H…hi,” Tash replied, burying her face into Sophie’s hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her apricot scented shampoo and freshly washed hair.

  A sense of comfort washed over her.

  “Do you want to come and join me and Amelia for a coffee?” Sophie asked.

  “Not really,” Tash whispered, her voice shaky. “I miss you Sophie.”

  “I miss you too.” Sophie hugged her even tighter.

  “You know if we stand like this for much longer people will start spreading rumours about us. They’ll say we’re lovers,” Tash joked to break the intensity of the moment.

  “Puerile idiots, let people think what they like. I couldn’t care less what goes on in their filthy little minds,” Sophie answered. “You needed a hug.”

  “I did,” Tash agreed.

  “Can you come over this evening?” Sophie fished in her jeans’ pocket and brought out a clean tissue which she handed to Tash. She smiled sympathetically. “You know you can come over any time, don’t you? You’re always welcome.”

  “Thanks,” Tash muttered and wiped her eyes with the tissue. The tide of emotion had receded inside her. Threat over. Peace soothing the savagery, taming it.

  For now.

  “You know what, I think I will join you,” Tash said. “But I’d rather have a proper drink.”

  I need to be with friends. I also need to get very drunk if said friends are doing wedding talk.

  Nate sat back in his chair and hit save on his Word document. He was pleased with himself. In spite of the conference call he’d managed four thousand words, the autocorrect sorting out all the mistakes his dyslexic brain had made.

  If only I’d had this when I was younger. At school.

  His teachers would never have believed he would go on to write a book. They hadn’t been great at dealing with the problem, his dyslexia hadn’t been recognised until he was in his late teens. When he’d recently spoken to a group of teachers he’d been assured it would have been a different picture if he’d been born twenty years later.

  But he hadn’t. He’d struggled and become the class joker to cover up the fact he was struggling. It had been easy to fall in with the wrong crowd. If it hadn’t been for what happened to his mate Matthew when they were seventeen who knew where he might have ended up?

  You’ll never amount to anything.

  How many times had he heard that phrase? Teachers held such power. Some were great but others…well he sometimes wondered if they’d seen his television programme and remembered teaching him, belittling him…

  All the more reason to get this book right.

  It mattered.

  Who knew who might read it and understand that whatever had happened to them so far, there was always hope they could turn their lives around? Nobody had to be defined by their problems. He met so many bright young people who had something to contribute to the world but had derailed somewhere along the way. All he tried to do was give them the chance to get back on track again. The rest was always up to them.

  He’d asked permission to put some of their stories into the book, changing the names of course, usually to protect the guilty rather than the innocent though. Some adults were spectacularly skilled at screwing children up.

  He shut down his laptop and his thoughts strayed back to Tash again. She was so achingly vulnerable. He’d been caught up in getting his chapter ending right when she’d brought him coffee. Maybe he should have stopped and paid her some attention. But the blank Word document had been taunting him for weeks and today the words had finally been flowing, pouring out of him at such speed his fingers could barely keep up. He hadn’t wanted to stop in case the flow didn’t come back again.

  She’ll understand, surely, she knows I’m busy. And she was the one who skipped out last night.

  He’d make it up to her at the weekend. The mountain cabin idea sounded like fun and Rebecca had already spoken to him, suggesting he and Tash take the smaller cabin while she took Madeleine, Greg and Robert to the other larger hut. Getting a fire going and sharing a sleeping bag with Tash sounded like the perfect way to spend the night. He’d make love to her slowly, kissing every inch of her body. He grew hard just thinking about it.

  Make love.

  That was odd, it wasn’t a phrase he usually applied to sex. In fact he wasn’t sure he’d ever used it.

  I want to show Tash just how special she is. She needs to know.

  Yet this wasn’t going to go anywhere; how could it? And could he be doing more harm than good? He had undeniable feelings for her. Quite what they were he wasn’t sure yet. But he knew he wanted to get to know her, that spending time with her somehow reminded him of who he really was. She grounded him.

  Words were not his area of expertise, despite today’s word count. Had he upset her earlier? He’d earned some time off, he’d go see if he could find her.

  He bumped into Holly in the hallway.

  “Any idea where I’ll find Tash?”

  She stared at him for a moment as though trying to read his face. How much did she know?

  Eventually she answered him. “If she is not in the chalet she’s probably at Bar des Amis in town, it’s owned by friends of ours. Here, I’ll show you where it is on the map.”

  She opened up a maps app on her phone and showed him.

  “Okay, thanks.” He memorised it and headed towards his jacket and boots.

  He had a feeling she wanted to say more but after Madeleine this morning he’d had his fill of unsolicited advice.

  When he stepped outside, the chill mountain air hit him. The temperature dropped rapidly as he walked. Luckily he quickly reached the Bar des Amis. Tash was sitting at the bar on her own, talking to a girl behind the bar.

  He walked up to her and, without asking, slipped onto a stool next to her.

  “Hi,” he said to Tash, then turned to smile at the girl behind the bar. “You’re English?”

  It was a safe assumption as he’d never seen such a pure English rose complexion.

  “Yes, my fiancé is Swiss though. I’m Sophie. What can I get you?”

  “Do you do coffee? I could do with warming up, the walk here was pretty chilly.” He turned to Tash. “Can I get you anything Tash?”

  Sophie’s eyebrows rose and the corners of her lips twitched into a small smile.

  “Vodka and coke please,” Tash replied without looking at him.

  Is she still pissed off with me?

  Sophie hesitated, concern flickering in her eyes.

  “Okay, but take it easy Tash, right?” Sophie turned to sort out the
drinks.

  So Sophie is worried about Tash drinking? Interesting.

  “I like this place,” he said, his tone casual, pretending he hadn’t noticed Tash was ignoring him.

  The bar had the kind of laid-back vibe of the pubs he used to go to, before life got too hectic. Although the cowhide covered barstools and the old-fashioned ski photos might have looked out of place in a London pub. It was the polar opposite to The Living Room at the W but he liked it.

  “Oh, you’ve got time to talk to me now have you?” Tash sniped.

  She is pissed off.

  “I get…single-minded about things when I’m working.” He pulled a face. “It’s nothing personal, it’s just the way I am, I’ve always had tunnel vision. And writing a book is something new for me. A bit of a challenge.”

  She turned towards him. He detected a slight thaw in her facial expression.

  “Oh?” She took the drink Sophie put in front of her and sipped at it.

  “Yes. My old English teacher Miss Pringle would have a fit if she knew I was writing a book.”

  “Why?” Tash fingered the moisture on the outside of her glass.

  Definitely thawing. I may even get a whole sentence out of her next if I’m lucky.

  “I’m dyslexic. Didn’t know it back then. I used to muck around in class a lot to stop people noticing I was struggling.”

  “I can relate to that,” Tash said, looking him in the eye finally.

  I guess you can. I think you’re probably an expert at the smokescreen.

  “Your coffee.” Sophie put a cup in front of him on the bar. Nate broke eye contact with Tash. “Thanks.”

  “So, how is the book going?” Tash asked, turning slightly towards Nate on her stool.

  “It’s going a bit better today than it was yesterday,” he admitted. “I was finally getting some words down, that’s why I shut you out earlier.”

  “Oh, I see.” She sipped at her drink again.

  “Do you always drink this early?” He asked.

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Do you always tell people what to do?”

  “Pretty much,” he said, smiling at her. “I’ve made a living out of it.”