Millie fills his glass and smiles tightly.
‘I hope she’s been looking after you well,’ Cameron adds.
‘She’s fabulous! I wouldn’t mind one like her at home myself!’ Simon leers. I cringe. Cass fiddles with something on her plate, her face going crimson as she pretends not to be bothered by Simon’s comment. Simon needs someone like Olivia to keep him in line. Remarks like that will land him in trouble if he’s not careful.
‘How many chalets do you have now, Cameron?’ I ask, remembering what Ria said about Cass feeling insecure and wanting to move the conversation on and away from Millie.
‘Five in La Madière – this is where I started and it’s still my favourite resort – and a total of twenty chalets across the Alps. All high-end and luxurious, but very different in style. Some modern, some retro, some huge, some tiny – or “intimate” as we say in the biz – but all offering top levels of service.’
‘Well we’re certainly enjoying our week here,’ I say. ‘It was my wife Ria who suggested we come here – I believe she’s organized events in some of your chalets before?’
‘Yup,’ Ria slurs, holding her glass out for Millie to top up, despite the fact she’s clearly had more than enough already. ‘Events. Some reeeaaallly nice events.’
I shoot her a disdainful look, but she is leaning in towards Matt and whispering something in his ear. After how she was upstairs, before dinner, when I’d felt closer to her than I had for a very long time, I thought things might be starting to change. I thought she might at least make an effort, given that Cameron is here and he could be important to the business. But no, here she is getting embarrassingly drunk and flirting with the rep. My face feels hot and I have a sudden need to be outside. I stand up too quickly, bumping the table and at least four glasses tip over, red wine spilling on to the pristine white tablecloth.
‘Shit! I mean, argh, I’m so sorry.’ I right the glasses as Millie dashes over with kitchen roll and cloths and starts dabbing at the mess.
‘It’s no problem, don’t worry at all,’ she says. ‘If everyone’s finished, it might be easiest if I simply clear things away? Perhaps you’d like some more wine or digestifs in the living room?’
‘That’s my girl, Millie,’ Cameron says. ‘Hugo,’ he claps me on the shoulder as he passes, before lifting one of the remaining glasses of wine and downing it, ‘it’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it for a second. That’s what the rich fuckers who come here are paying for – being able to make a mess and have someone else clear it up.’
I try to give Millie a sympathetic look, but she is already busily tidying and dabbing. I’m not the best at social situations but even I am appalled by Cameron.
While everyone moves from the table to the living room, I go to the front door and step outside for some air, but have to come back in straight away as the wind is now even stronger than it was earlier and it’s snowing pretty much horizontally. I go back into the living room where everyone is sprawled out on the fur-throw-covered sofas. Simon is telling some long-winded and no doubt filthy joke to Cameron, and Cass is looking embarrassed. Ria is sitting way closer to Matt than I’d like. She’s knocking back yet another massive glass of wine even though, for all she knows, she may be pregnant.
Millie comes in and tops up everyone’s wine yet again. ‘Cameron, I’ve had a call from the taxi company – the car they sent is stuck in a drift. Are you OK to wait? I’m not sure what else we can do, to be honest.’
‘There must be a spare room here he can crash in, Millie?’ Simon booms. ‘Shame to break up the party anyway.’
‘Cameron, would you like me to make up the bed in the attic room as a contingency?’ Millie asks. ‘That is, if no one has any objection?’
Cameron waves his hand impatiently. ‘I’ll wait for the taxi. No great rush to get home. Might even walk – it’s not that far. The air’ll do me good.’
‘Well, it’s up to you, but it’s pretty bad out there now – I wouldn’t be surprised if the taxi can’t get through at all,’ Millie says. ‘I’ll make up a bed anyway in the room at the top. Just in case.’
‘Thanks, darling,’ Cameron says. Millie maintains a fixed grin but I’m sure I see her recoil slightly.
‘I’ll leave the wine and spirits here, but unless there’s anything else, I might call it a night if that’s OK?’ Millie says. ‘What time would you like breakfast in the morning?’
Simon looks at his watch. ‘Oof it’s late! Breakfast about nine? Then we can still meet our guide at ten if we get a move on.’
Millie nods. ‘Of course. See you in the morning.’
Ria is cackling too loudly at something Matt has said. I stand up.
‘I hope you’ll all excuse me,’ I say. ‘I’m rather tired and would like to go to bed now. Cameron, it was lovely to meet you.’ This is a lie, it wasn’t lovely at all. ‘I’ll give you a call next week when I’m back in the office to discuss how we can move things forward, if that’s acceptable to you? Perhaps I can have my PA call your assistant to arrange a suitable time?’
Cameron hauls himself up to shake my hand. ‘Yeah, sounds great, mate. I’d like to show you round some of the other chalets later in the week too ideally so you can get a full view of exactly what we offer, why you’ll want us on your books.’ He’s wobbling on his feet and squints as he looks at me, as if he can’t quite focus. ‘Was good to meet you this evening,’ he continues, ‘and your lovely wife too, of course.’
Ria smiles sarcastically and slurs, ‘And so lovely to make your acquaintance, Cameron.’ I am so incensed right now I could almost hit her. Cameron is vile but, even so, how dare she? She knows how important this is for me. For us both.
I go upstairs and flop down on the bed. Despite trying to rein it in, drinking-wise, way more than any of the others seem to be bothering with this week, my head is spinning and I can already feel a headache coming on.
I haul myself up from the bed and go to the bathroom to find some painkillers. There is a burst of raucous laughter from downstairs. I pull a strip of paracetamol from my washbag but it’s empty. My head is throbbing now. Ria must have some somewhere, surely? I unzip her make-up bag and rifle through – past the little boxes, brushes, packages, and lipsticks. It smells like her. I wish she’d come up to bed so I could be sure she’s not embarrassing me down there. God knows how much she’s showing me up. I need Cameron on board. I need Simon to think we’re a company worth investing in – though he seemed to be out-drinking even Ria this evening, so perhaps I don’t need to worry too much about that at least. My fingers eventually hit something which feels like a blister pack of pills and I pull it out.
It’s not paracetamol.
21
January 2020, La Madière, France
Ria
Simon and Cameron are doing shots now. There’s a lot of willy-waving going on (metaphorically only, thankfully). I guess this is one of those weird situations where both men stand to benefit from impressing each other. Poor Hugo. He’s completely out of his comfort zone here. Still, best that he’s gone up to bed rather than staying down here giving me dirty looks. Fuck him.
Millie seems to have retreated for the evening. Does she live in the chalet with us? I guess she must do. I hadn’t thought about it until now. You wouldn’t want to be going out in this weather. There’s talk of Cameron staying the night, so no chance of getting rid of him any time soon, sadly. Matt and I are on a squashy sofa tucked into a corner. The room is spinning slightly. The wine this evening was fabulous. Much as I didn’t want to come this week, at least the food and drink are excellent. I pour myself another glass from the bottle Millie left us and sink back into the sofa. I close my eyes and let my head loll towards Matt until it rests on his shoulder. It doesn’t matter – Simon and Cameron aren’t paying us any attention.
‘We still skiing tomorrow?’ I murmur.
I move my hand so it rests lightly on his crotch, careful to do it as if I’ve done it by accident. I feel him harde
n.
‘You sure you want to ski in this weather?’ he asks, shifting slightly.
I lift my head to peer out of the huge window at the other end of the chalet. There’s a light outside and I can see the snow is coming down even harder than earlier.
‘Maybe not,’ I sigh. ‘What about you?’
‘Not if I can help it.’ He covers his groin with a cushion and presses himself against my hand. ‘I can think of other things I’d rather do.’
I look him in the eyes, unzip him, and place my hand around his straining cock. ‘Me too,’ I whisper. ‘I’ll have to see if I can get away.’
With my other hand, I pass him my phone. ‘Put your number in and I’ll text you. Hugo’s planning to go skiing and sucking up to Simon, so we might be able to … go for coffee or something.’
I move my hand and see him struggle to concentrate as he puts his number in my phone. ‘OK,’ he gasps. ‘There you go. I’ll look forward to coffee. Or something. I think you’d better stop now or …’
I give him a gentle squeeze and he groans softly as I withdraw my hand.
‘I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow. For coffee. Or something. I’d best get to bed.’
I stumble up the stairs and open the door as quietly as I can, not wanting to wake Hugo; he’s sure to be cross with me for drinking too much. Matt has left me feeling all horny, but I’m drunk and tired and can do without Hugo slobbering all over me – I’m not that horny.
I can see the light is on as I push the door open. Hugo is sitting on the bed with his back to me, staring out at the snow, which is now coming down so hard it looks like diagonal white lines. ‘Hugo? You OK?’ I ask, trying to make my words sound clear because I can’t be bothered with him telling me off for being pissed and not playing the part of the corporate wife well enough. Again. ‘I know I drank too much but honestly, listening to those twats banging on, I need something to get me through, and I’m really one hundred per cent sure Cameron will want to work with you – and that’s why we’re here after all. Simon will invest too, so it will all be …’
He stands up slowly and turns to face me. I stop talking. I’ve never seen him look so angry. ‘It’s not that,’ he hisses. ‘Though you did drink too much. Again. It’s this.’ He throws something down on the bed.
The room is spinning and I narrow my eyes to focus on the small object resting on the fur throw on the bed.
It’s a packet of contraceptive pills. My packet of pills.
Oh shit.
‘Why are you going through my things?’ I ask, going on the defensive. ‘I bet it was you looking at my iPad the other day too, wasn’t it!’ I add, suddenly feeling sober and trying to deflect attention from myself. I bet it was him. Someone has been checking my emails, I’m sure of it.
‘I wasn’t going through your things!’ he shouts. I put my finger to my lips, wobbling slightly and suppressing a desperate desire to giggle.
‘Ssssh. They’ll hear us. You wouldn’t want to upset Simon, would you?’ I stage whisper.
He takes a deep breath. ‘I thought you wanted to get pregnant,’ he says in a low, measured voice. ‘We talked about it. So why are you taking the pill behind my back?’
I take a deep breath. ‘We did talk about it. But it’s what you want. Not what I want. I’m not ready.’
I flop down onto the bed. I am too drunk for this conversation. I close my eyes, but the room is still spinning. Hugo grabs my hands and hauls me up to a sitting position. I open my eyes again.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ he says. ‘We’re going to talk about this, now. I don’t care how drunk you are. If you’re not ready to have children, why didn’t you say so?’
‘Because I didn’t want to let you down,’ I lie. ‘Because you obviously want children so badly. I didn’t want to say no. I thought it would be easier to pretend that I wanted children too.’ It’s a half-truth. I did think it would be easier. But also I can’t afford for him to leave me – to decide I’m not the person for him after all. There is too much at stake. That was the bigger part in my decision. But I can’t tell him that.
His face softens. ‘Oh, Ria. That’s so silly. Of course we can wait. We have time. Not much, but some. You should have said. It’s you I want. I want what makes you happy.’
I force a smile. ‘And I want what makes you happy. But I don’t want a baby. Not yet.’
He strokes my face, but he’s guarded. There’s something he’s not saying. ‘OK, my darling. We’ll leave it a year or two. But neither of us is getting any younger. Now I’m going to get you some water and I think you should go to bed.’
My mouth is dry and my head is pounding. Hugo isn’t there when I wake up. I guess he’s already gone for breakfast. Or he’s avoiding me after the whole pill thing last night. He’ll be annoyed, but he’ll get over it. At the end of the day, he loves me – I’m pretty sure of that. I glance at the clock – it’s gone nine.
What did I arrange with Matt?
Text. I said I’d text. I haul myself out of bed and open the curtains. There’s nothing but white – the snow is so deep now on the small roof below that it’s totally blocking the window and I can hear the wind is roaring.
I hope Hugo and Simon will go skiing so I don’t have Hugo hanging around me all day, but it seems unlikely.
After I’ve had a way too hot shower I drag myself downstairs. I’m surprised to see that Matt is already here and feel myself blush. Hugo is sitting at the table apparently reading a French newspaper. He doesn’t look up, though he definitely heard me come in. I guess I’m not forgiven yet.
I sit down next to Hugo and touch him lightly on the hand. ‘Morning,’ I say.
He looks up briefly and then back down at his paper. ‘Morning.’
‘The others not up?’
‘Doesn’t look that way.’
Millie comes in. ‘Morning, Ria,’ she says. ‘What can I get you? Eggs?’
A wave of nausea passes through me even at the thought of eggs. Hugo clears his throat, still staring at his paper.
‘Um, no thanks, Millie,’ I reply. ‘Maybe pancakes?’
She nods. ‘No problem. Maple or golden syrup? Or I could make you a chocolate sauce?’
‘Maple, please. Great. Thank you.’
Hugo is still staring pointedly at his paper. As far as I know, his knowledge of French is rudimentary – mine is way better – so he can’t actually be reading it. I fiddle with my phone, feeling unusually uncomfortable in the silence. I wish Simon or Cass would get up. Or have they already been and gone? Surely not. Cass won’t have got up and gone out this early, especially not in this weather.
‘You skiing with Simon today, Hugo?’ I venture.
‘Not sure,’ he replies testily. ‘I haven’t seen Simon yet and, according to Matt here, the lifts may not be open today.’
I try not to show my disappointment. I’m not going to get my alone time with Matt if Hugo doesn’t go out.
‘Really? The weather’s that bad?’
‘Apparently so,’ he says, not looking at me. ‘Disappointing for you, I’m sure,’ he adds snidely, obviously still wildly unimpressed with the idea of me skiing with Matt today.
I’m about to say something in reply – I’m not sure what – when Millie comes back in, placing a massive stack of pancakes in front of me, along with a white jug of syrup. I touch it – it’s warm.
‘These look amazing, Millie, thank you.’
She smiles. ‘It’s my pleasure, Ria. Is there anything else I can get for you? Coffee? Tea? Some fresh orange juice?’
‘I’d love some peppermint tea, please,’ I say neutrally. Hugo tuts – he knows it’s what I drink when I’m hungover. I ignore him and turn to Matt. ‘Hugo said the lifts are closed today?’
He pulls a face. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. And I don’t know if you heard the news?’
Hugo looks up. ‘What news?’
‘About the body. They found a body.’
PART TWO
22
December 1998, La Madière, France
Louisa
I’ve never been skiing before. It’s not something you generally get to do when you grow up on a council estate, is it? But since I started at Oxford last year, I’ve got used to keeping quiet about that kind of thing. My vowels have rounded out, I say lunch instead of dinner, dinner instead of tea and try to remember not to say toilet. I didn’t do it deliberately, it just happened. Mum teases me about it when I go home, says things like she’ll have to get the best china out, but really, I know she doesn’t mind. She brought me up single-handed and she’s so proud of me. I’m pretty much the first person she knows who’s gone to university. And I’m one of those people who always tries to fit in. To pretend they’re like everyone else. Always have been.
So the skiing holiday wasn’t my idea, obviously, and it wasn’t even my boyfriend Will’s. It was Will’s brother Adam’s idea.
‘So what do you think?’ Will asks. ‘Will you come?’ We are lying in bed in his room, naked. I sit up and pull a T-shirt over my head.
‘With you and Adam? I’m not sure. I don’t want to get in the way of your brotherly bonding.’
Will puts his hand up my T-shirt and squeezes my left breast. ‘You won’t be. Adam’s OK, as brothers go, but I like him better when his company is diluted by having other people around. I think we might kill each other if we were on our own together for an entire week. And he’s bringing his girlfriend anyway, so having you there would make up the numbers.’ He pushes my T-shirt up, moves his head in towards my chest and sucks my nipple for a second before sitting upright and looking me in the eyes. He touches my cheek. ‘Please, Louisa. I’d love it if you came.’
Louisa. Before I came to Oxford, I was plain old Louise. I pull a face. ‘You know I’ve never skied?’
The Chalet: the most exciting new debut crime thriller of 2020 to race through this Christmas Page 7