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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

He’s trying to sound confident, but I can hear a wobble in his voice. I know I should say ‘You’re doing great,’ but I can’t bring myself to do that, because, well, he isn’t. Being nice is Andy’s remit, not mine. That’s the only reason I have a business partner, I’m not that good at the being friendly bit, while Andy is. I’m just here for the mountains; as far as I’m concerned, the clients are a necessary evil. Andy does the client stuff: the showing them Mont Blanc, the boasting about how the mountains are our office, the going on about how we have the best job in the world and all that. So instead of offering the struggling skier some platitude like Andy would (or lying, if you will), I turn away and simply say: ‘Follow my trail. Stay close.’

We catch up with the other guy, who has mercifully had the sense to wait, but after a brief chat about the importance of skiing within your limits I set off again, faster than I would normally like to in these conditions, to make sure I stay ahead of him. He is not going to out-ski me – I am clearly the better skier here by a mile, as well as being in charge. They should be behind me, following my trail, like I told them. Why would they book me if they’re not going to do as they’re told?

Totally unhelpfully, Andy has disappeared again, who knows how far down the slope. I make a few more turns, faster this time to make sure the clients can’t overtake me again, and then look back to see where they are.

And by the time I do that, they’ve both disappeared.

2

January 2020, La Madière, France

Ria

‘Champagne?’ says the devastatingly pretty girl in a discreetly logoed polo shirt, holding out a tray of silver flutes. I smile and take one.

‘Thank you.’

‘How was your trip?’ she chirrups, and then surprises me by actually waiting for an answer.

‘Oh. It was fine. Thank you.’

‘I’m Millie. I’m your chalet girl for the week, and if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable or enjoyable, you only need to ask.’

There’s a whoosh of cold air as Hugo comes through the door and puts a proprietorial hand on my waist. I flinch.

‘Champagne, sir?’ the girl asks, proffering the tray. ‘I’m Millie. I’m here to make your stay as comfortable as possible,’ she repeats.

‘Lovely stuff,’ he says.