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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 kisses me on the cheek and gets up from the table. ‘You’re the best girlfriend ever. I’ll see you later.’

28

December 1998, La Madière, France

Will

Unsurprisingly, given that the weather this afternoon means almost no one wants to ski, Skitastic has a guide available. The weather has worsened, and even though most people like us who are only out in the snow for a precious week will ski in just about anything, there are limits. Even so, I’m really pleased to be out on the mountain. I meant it when I said I’d go back with Louisa at lunchtime; I wanted to be with her and I still felt bad that I’d left her to her own devices so much this week. But she genuinely seemed to mean it when she said I should go out skiing. It’s pretty exhausting, being out on the slopes in this weather, especially if you’re a beginner, so it’s not surprising she wants to get a few zeds. I’ll make it up to her later.

Our guide, Cameron, is English and he’s not in the usual ski instructor model – no effusing over working in the ‘best office in the world’, no taking us to the top of a lift just to point out Mont Blanc (not that we could see it in today’s conditions, even if it was right next door), no banging on about the importance of taking time to enjoy the mountains and that it doesn’t matter what standard you are or if you don’t want to do certain slopes or your parallel turns aren’t perfect as long as you’re having fun.

No, instead there’s some brief form-filling, a curt chat about our levels (‘We’ve been skiing since we were kids and can ski just about anything,’ Adam says, the latter half of which is a bit of an exaggeration) and a short conversation about what we want from today (again Adam speaks for us both: ‘Something a bit extreme.’) I don’t disagree. I’ve spent so much of this week on easy slopes with Louisa, I’m up for something challenging now.

On the way up, Adam jabbers away but Cameron barely responds to any of the usual ski chit-chat – questions about how long he’s been here, comments about the weather, etc. In fact, he’s abrupt almost to the point of rudeness. But I guess you probably get sick of having the same conversations every day with total strangers who you’re unlikely ever to see again. Or maybe he simply doesn’t want to be out in this horrible weather.

‘Right,’ Cameron says, once we’re off the top lift. ‘We’re going to head down off the back here. Couloir Noir.’