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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

Didier nods. ‘OK. It seems that he had sustained a fall – there were several broken bones, and a fractured skull. So it is likely that the fall was quite large – which would also explain why he could not be found as he was far from the slope – and that it killed him very quickly and he did not suffer. I hope you will take some comfort in that.’

I nod. ‘Thank you. That is good to know.’

‘We can also tell you what he was wearing. He wore a blue Spyder ski jacket and black salopettes – these were more degraded so they’re not sure of the brand. Do you remember if …’

I shake my head. ‘I’m sorry. It was a long time ago. I don’t remember what he was wearing.’ I don’t add that I never bothered developing the photos I took on that holiday. I didn’t want to be reminded.

‘That’s OK. The test results will come very soon and confirm everything. Now all that remains is for you to decide if you would like to see your brother.’

Suddenly I am sure. ‘No. Thank you. I think I’ll take the advice of the nurse and remember him as he was. I think it’s what he would have wanted.’

But I know that’s not true. He wouldn’t give a flying fuck whether I viewed his dead body or not. What he’d have wanted would have been still to be alive.

54

January 2020, La Madière, France

Ria

So far, I have managed to avoid spending any length of time with Adam. He didn’t show any sign of recognition when we passed at the breakfast table and, as Cam said, why would he? It was so long ago and it was so cold that day, we were all so wrapped up, he probably never saw my face. And he’s had twenty years to get upset about it, to take action, and we’ve never heard from him. So rationally, I’ve little to fear.

But that isn’t how I feel. All the guilt of the last two decades, all the lies are weighing me down, crushing me. I can’t bear to be here any more. I can’t spend time with the brother of the man whose death I am at least partially responsible for. I can’t do the ‘sorry for your loss’ thing when his loss is my – our – fault and we’ve lied about it for so long.

‘The roads are open again now,’ I say to Hugo. ‘Can’t we leave? Say it’s some emergency at work or something? I’m sure Simon will understand.’