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Back The Chalet Save as PDF
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for The Chalet
  3. Dedication
  4. PART ONE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. PART TWO
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. PART THREE
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. Epilogue
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. Keep Reading …
  73. Prologue
  74. About the Author
  75. About the Publisher

I go back up to our room to try and remember who came up with the idea of this week. And while I’m up there, I might see if I can sneak another look at Ria’s iPad. Usually she keeps it well locked down, and she’s been exceptionally cagey about it this week. Perhaps there is something in there she doesn’t want me to know about. I might have another look.

43

January 2020, La Madière, France

Adam

By late afternoon I am on a coach. It’s not a fun journey – you would think people would be cheered by the prospect of getting to their holiday destination at long last. But no – all the talk around me is of how much time they are losing when they should already be on the slopes, with people competing over who has the worst holiday-from-hell story, who has lost the most money, who has had the worst journey, who has spent the longest time awake/on the road/away from a functioning loo, and who has been inconvenienced to the greatest degree. Sometimes I feel like interrupting to ask if anyone here has ever finished a holiday leaving a relative dead on the mountainside and then had to come back years later to deal with the fallout, but of course, I hold my tongue. I don’t yet know the logistics of identifying Will’s body. I don’t even know where it is. Do I have to see it? I’m not sure. I don’t know if I want to. But the kind-sounding man from the resort who phoned after I’d had the call from the police seemed to think I might like to visit the spot where he was found ‘to pay your respects’, as he said in his perfect English.

After several hours of a tortuously slow journey, we pass a sign which announces our arrival in La Madière. No doubt the resort will have changed hugely since I was here. I think about Nell. I wonder where she is now? Probably married to someone rich. She was always quite shallow, if fit. I wonder if she’s happy? And I think about Will. Lying dead in the snow all that time. Dead, without the privilege of being happy or not.

He didn’t deserve to die. But I am not going to be blamed. Whatever it takes, I refuse to let what happened mess up the rest of my life.

44

BEFORE