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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

‘Thing is, Louisa, now you’re up here you have to get down the mountain,’ I say. ‘That’s how skiing works, unfortunately.’

‘But what about people like me who really can’t do it? Isn’t there a rescue service? I saw someone being taken down earlier?’

I laugh, thinking she is joking, but then, looking at her face, see she isn’t. ‘No. That’s only for people who are injured.’

This starts a fresh batch of tears. ‘So I have to do it?’

‘Yeah. Sorry. But look, once you’re down, if you don’t want to do any more, that’s fine. I’m not going to force you. Obviously.’ Please don’t want to do any more, or at least, don’t make me come with you, I plead inwardly.

She nods and bites her lip. ‘OK. I guess we’d better get on with it then. Sooner we go, sooner it’s over with. Help me up?’

I haul her up, and we spent another forty-five minutes picking our way down the slope. Fortunately, this time, the snowboarders give us a wide berth.

24

December 1998, La Madière, France

Louisa

‘So, Louisa, how was your first day on the slopes?’ Adam asks. We’re at a table for four in the soulless dining room and have been served a starter of pâté and toast garnished with some limp lettuce leaves.

‘It was tricky,’ I say, absentmindedly spreading pâté onto a slice of toast as if it was butter. I notice Nell has delicately broken off a small piece of toast to spread the pâté on and feel myself go red. However hard I’ve been trying to get things right since I went to Oxford, I’m always slipping up. There are so many things to remember.

It’s not helped by the fact that I’m already more than a bit drunk. I’m not generally a big drinker, but by the time we got to the bottom of the horrible endless slope I felt I needed something to steady my nerves. Will took us into a bar and ordered two vins chauds. It wasn’t really what I wanted – I’d never liked mulled wine on the few occasions I’d tried it, but actually, it was pretty good and went down very nicely.

As I was draining my glass and wondering about having another one, Will glanced at his watch and then reached across the table to take my hand.

‘Darling, would you mind terribly if I dashed off and did a run or two before the lifts close? I don’t feel like I’ve skied much today – I haven’t been in the snow since last year and the weather’s so beautiful, it’s meant to change in the next couple of days so …’