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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 might be mistaken, but at times while we are doing this, Millie looks a bit tearful. She’s so sweet. After we’ve chosen the song and reading, she takes my tray away and as good as tucks me in.

It’s been a long time since I felt so cared for.

61

January 2020, La Madière, France

‘Everybody Hurts’ – I remembered it was Mama and Dad’s song, the one Mama used to sing to me sometimes during the rare times when she was in a reasonably good place mentally. It took a while, but eventually I managed to steer Adam in the right direction, and that’s the song we chose for Dad’s funeral. I could tell he was tired and didn’t really care, so it wasn’t that hard. It’s what Dad would have wanted, I’m sure. Mama would be proud.

62

January 2020, La Madière, France

Adam

I wake with a start in the night, awash with nausea again. I stumble to the bathroom, barely making it in time.

Oh God. I thought this had finished? After what feels like hours of my body wringing itself out, I literally crawl back towards my bed. I can’t even stand.

At first I think I must be hallucinating, but it looks like someone is there in the darkness, in my room.

‘Millie?’ I rasp. No one else is still here in the chalet any more, are they? They’ve all gone home. I know Millie is kind and dutiful – she’s left me in no doubt about that over the last few days – but surely that doesn’t extend to waiting on me in the middle of the night.

‘Why are you here?’ I gasp. My throat feels like it’s been grated and my head is spinning. Millie lifts the covers back and I haul myself into bed.

‘I need to tell you something,’ she says. She snaps the bedside light on. Her face is hard and expressionless.

‘Now?’ I say, but it comes out as a whisper. ‘But it’s the middle of the night. And I’m not well at all. Can’t it wait till morning?’

‘No. You’ll most likely be dead by morning. Unconscious at least, I’d say.’

I assume this is intended as a joke but, given the state I’m in, it seems uncharacteristically unsympathetic and in extremely poor taste. I lift my head to speak, but she holds her hand up and closes her eyes.

‘Don’t!’ she snaps, opening her eyes again. ‘I’m sick to death of hearing your stupid voice. I poisoned you. That’s why you’re ill. Those mushrooms you had at breakfast the other day? Amanita phalloides. Otherwise known as death cap. It’s so unfortunate that dear Cameron’s artisanal mushroom supplier made such a stupid and fatal mistake. Don’t you think?’