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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

Hugo sighs. ‘We’re due to leave in a couple of days anyway. Like I’ve said, I think it will be very tricky to arrange alternative transport, particularly with everything that’s been happening, and I also think it would be rude to both Simon and Cameron, both of whom I need onside for the business going forward. So no, I’m sorry, I think we’re going to have to stay. After all,’ he gestures around the room, ‘there are worse places to be stuck, aren’t there? Millie’s looking after us pretty well and surely the company isn’t THAT bad?’

‘It’s just, I’m finding it very claustrophobic, being cooped up in here, especially now that … that other guy is here too. And I think Cam – Cameron is coming for dinner again, isn’t he? And he’s awful – you agree with me about that at least, don’t you? I’ve had enough of being sociable.’

‘You usually like a party.’

‘Not today. Can’t we go home?’

Hugo narrows his eyes at me. ‘What is this about? Is there something you’re not telling me?’

I feel myself go red. ‘Of course not.’ I can’t tell him. He wouldn’t want me if he knew I was responsible for someone’s death and that I’d lied about it all these years. And then I’d be back out practically on the streets, I’d be no one, penniless again. Just like I was when at Cameron’s behest I gatecrashed Hugo’s party at the Natural History Museum in the last good dress I had, up to my eyeballs in debt and with bailiffs banging at my door. Hugo might be annoying to live with but, in essence, he’s a good man and a life of penury would be way worse. Obviously.

Hugo takes my hand. ‘Is it the stuff about not wanting to have children? Is that why you don’t want to be here with me? It’s OK, I’ve already forgiven you for the pill thing. We can wait. I’d rather you’d have talked to me than taking your pills without telling me but … well, it’s you I love. You that I need. The theoretical baby would just be the cherry on the cake.’

I feel myself soften and squeeze his hand. ‘It’s OK. We don’t need to wait. I’ve already stopped taking the pills. But I would still like to go home.’

He pulls his hand away. ‘You’re not getting round me that easily. Sorry, Ria, but we’re staying.’

55

January 2020, La Madière, France

Hugo