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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

A whoosh of relief shoots through me, very quickly followed by one of panic. Is he alive? Conscious? Is he going to know that we were too slow to alert rescue? Where was he? Did he see us? What did he tell them? Did he say we skied too fast? Is this some kind of trick?

‘No, I didn’t know that!’ I almost shout. ‘Why didn’t someone tell me?’

‘I must apologize,’ the officer says, covering his eyes momentarily and then looking at me again. ‘As you say, it’s been a long night and we have been very busy. The fact that you hadn’t yet been told that he’d been found must have been an oversight.’

Yeah, right. Mind games, more like. ‘So is he …’ A surge of adrenaline pulses through me and for a second I think I’m going to be sick. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s going to tell me he’s dead. I’m sure of it.

‘He is on his way to hospital. The last I heard he had not yet woken up. The medics will be doing all they can, but for now his future is uncertain.’

I nod. Panic continues to course through me. What if he dies? Or if the other one turns up dead? Would that be manslaughter in France? Would I go to prison? Why do I not already know this? Why didn’t I check when I – we – set up the business? It’s not my fault, I remind myself. Not my fault.

‘And the other man?’

He pulls a face. ‘They continue to search, as much as the weather allows, but I fear his chances are now slim, would you not say?’

I shake my head and then nod. I don’t know what to say. My palms are sweating; I wipe them on my trousers.

‘Can you please tell us in your own words what happened from the time you met the two men to the time you called the emergency services?’ the officer asks.

I swallow hard. ‘Right. Um, I met the two men at three. The weather wasn’t great even at that point, but they were – are – only here for a week, so like most punters they wanted to ski even so.’

He nods. ‘OK. And had you met the men before? Had they filled in any paperwork?’

The paperwork! There’s a disclaimer! They’ll have ticked the disclaimer! Suddenly I feel a lot lighter. Thank Christ for the French love of paperwork.