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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 was in the press a bit at the time, the miracle survivor who’d made it through a stormy night alone on the mountain. I wasn’t lying when I told the papers the accident changed me – it did. It made me realize we only have one life. I didn’t want to waste it all on a City job I wasn’t that enamoured with – however much money I was making.

So I quit my job and went travelling with my end-of-year bonus – with Nell, to start with. We volunteered in orphanages in Africa, helped pick grapes in France, were part of a yacht crew around the Caribbean for a while. To start with, it was blissful. I couldn’t have been happier.

And it was true what I’d said initially; when I woke up, I didn’t remember anything about how Will had died. Or the holiday. All I knew was that I had two black fingertips where the snow had frozen them off, and the things that people had told me about that day and my rescue. I’d been found huddled in a snow hole I’d made for myself by a rock. I’d been out there all night – they were amazed I’d survived the storm, so high up on the mountain. Once I was well enough to think about it, I was amazed I’d survived too – Will had always been the practical one, and yet somehow I’d built myself a shelter which had kept me alive, while he had seemingly disappeared into thin air.

But over time, I started to remember more about what had happened. Guilt gnawed away at me. Nell and I split up when my regular black moods, and occasional violent outbursts, became too much for her. Living my free and easy life out in the sunshine while my brother’s body was on a frozen mountain became difficult for me to cope with. I ended up in therapy, which was next to useless, but eventually I built a life – not a particularly exceptional one, but a comfortable one. I tried to keep thoughts of Will out of my mind – it was easier that way. Indeed, it was the only way I could deal with it. I’ve come to terms with what happened – it was over twenty years ago, after all – and I’ve found that I can live with it.

And now this.

I have to go. I can see that. But I’m not interested in digging up the past. What’s gone is gone. I can’t see how any good’s going to come of this, for anyone.

34

BEFORE

‘Hello? Hello? Are you OK in there?’ Someone was pushing the letterbox open, looking in.