I glance down and see my health and safety training sticker: Lizzie Riley.

‘You don’t remember me?’ the man challenges, raising a thick, blond eyebrow.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t—’

‘Olly.’ He holds out a large hand for me to shake. ‘I’m staying in the chalet next to you. With the Olympic rabble over there.’ He points to a rowdy group of young men holding beers. ‘You’re a chalet girl, right?’ He grins. ‘Nice work if you can get it.’

‘Actually, it can be exhausting,’ I say.

Olly laughs. ‘Are you thinking about jumping off the mountain then?’

My smile disappears. ‘No. Why would you ask that?’

‘Just joking.’

We stare out at the peaks for a minute.

A live band strikes up behind us, playing a Beatles cover – ‘Love Me Do’.

Olly’s shoulders move to the music.

Mine do too.

‘You like the Beatles?’ Olly asks.

‘Yes.’ I look at him shyly, hoping this is the right answer.

‘Me too! I have a massive collection of Sixties vinyl.’

‘You collect vinyl?’ I ask.

‘No, well … not really. Most of my records are my mum’s. She listens to CDs now. It feels like time-travelling when I play vinyl, you know? Like I’m part of the swinging Sixties.’

‘Olly!’ A tall, red-cheeked man swaggers over, holding out a beer bottle. ‘Olly Kinnock. This is supposed to be a lads’ night out and here you are chatting up girls again.’

Olly smiles at me, staring with blue, blue eyes. ‘Not girls. A girl. A very interesting girl.’

I feel myself blushing.

‘Fair enough,’ announces the red-cheeked man, thrusting the beer into Olly’s hand. ‘We’ll see you in the morning then.’ He returns to his group of friends, who break into guffaws of laughter.

‘Sorry about them,’ says Olly, putting his elbow on the balcony and, in the process, leaning nearer to me. ‘They can be morons.’

‘You can go back to them if you like.’

‘Actually, I’ve always preferred female company,’ says Olly. ‘Girls smell better. But you must have a boyfriend, surely? A pretty girl like you. So tell me to get lost if you want.’

I blush again and stammer, ‘Um … no, I don’t have a boyfriend.’

‘Have a drink with me then.’

Surely he’s just teasing me? Handsome snowboarders don’t chat up chalet girls. And he really is handsome, with his lean, toned arms and perfect white teeth.

His eyes are serious, holding my gaze.

Maybe he isn’t joking.

‘Okay,’ I hear myself say. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s a date.’ Olly takes my hand like he’s won a prize.

I laugh, sucking in my breath as his strong fingers close around mine.

‘So what are you drinking?’ Olly asks.

‘Um … white wine?’

‘Chardonnay?’

‘Sure. Yes please.’