This time, he falls over. By now the wind is even stronger and it’s a virtual whiteout. He scrambles to get up but he can’t so he reaches under the snow and clicks his skis off. Stupid, stupid, that was our only way down. Now he will have no option other than to wait with me, the stupid fucker.

Freed from his skis, he launches himself at me with his full weight, pushing me backwards. I grab his jacket, judo style and hurl him behind me. He picks himself up and throws himself at my legs in a kind of rugby tackle which knocks me off my feet. I scramble up at the same time he does and launch my entire weight at his back, giving him an almighty push.

There is a yelp, and for a few seconds I see his bright blue jacket fall through the air, over a precipice neither of us had seen, until he disappears and everything is white again.

And then there is silence.

59

January 2020, La Madière, France

Adam stays in bed the next day. I play the dutiful nurse, taking him water, herbal tea, cold flannels, and hot water bottles, anything he requests, all prettily arranged on trays. He’s so grateful that under almost any other circumstances, it would be rather sweet. And by the end of the day, he says he is feeling a little better. Not well enough to come downstairs, but well enough to try some soup. Chicken and mushroom. A thin, nourishing consommé. There’s no need for me to include my special mushrooms this time – they will have already done their work when he ‘enjoyed’ them as part of his full English breakfast. Adam needs to think he’s getting better.

It was disappointing when serving Cameron and Adam their special mushroom risotto went awry, but it was easy enough to have a second go at breakfast – for Adam at least. And making Adam ill will damage Snow Snow’s reputation and, by extension, Cameron’s business if I play things the right way, so it’s all good. Two for the price of one.

It was fascinating learning about mushrooms at college. The particularly amazing thing about death cap mushrooms is the way their poison works. You eat the poison, like Adam did at breakfast – and then later that day, as I expected, the diarrhoea and vomiting started. Which is pretty gross – even in a well-insulated chalet like this the other guests would have got a sense of what was going on. But they’ve all left now, thankfully. It’s been pretty unpleasant for Uncle Adam, but nothing more than he deserves. And fairly horrible for me too having to clean up after him, but I can handle that. It will all be worth it.