The Chalet: the most exciting new debut crime thriller of 2020 to race through this Christmas

by Catherine Cooper

  So we do the green slope again. And by twelve o’clock, I am exhausted, but I can kind of ski, and can even almost see why people find it fun. My annoyance at Will for rushing me and then abandoning me has almost gone, I’m so delighted with myself. I can’t wait to show him what I can do.

  Exhausted but exhilarated, I head off to the restaurant where I’m due to meet Will at twelve thirty. I can even carry my skis now without dropping them since Jean-Marc took the time to show me how to do it properly, resting the bindings behind my shoulder and not in front like I was trying to do before. It’s all looking good. I’m going to be able to do this after all.

  I order myself a celebratory vin chaud and look at the menu. I hope Will has had a good morning with Adam and Nell. I hope he’s got loads of skiing done because now I want to spend the afternoon skiing with him without him feeling like he’s doing me a favour. I’m still very far from fast, but I’m not as slow as I was. It won’t be torturous for him like yesterday clearly was. We’ll do a few easy runs together, we’ll stop for a drink, I’ll leave him to go and do a few more slopes on his own because that’s the kind of nice, tolerant girlfriend I am today, and then I’ll go back to the chalet, not dropping my skis all over the place, so I’ll be showered and ready for him when he gets back and we can have amazing sex. Then we will go for dinner and I won’t feel intimidated or bored by Adam and Nell because I know how to ski now and I understand what they are talking about and will even be able to join in with the conversation and tell them about the slopes I skied and which lifts I went on and use words like schuss correctly. It will all be perfect.

  I glance at my watch: one o’clock. Where is Will? Never mind. I took ages longer getting down the slope yesterday than I thought I would. It’s probably just something like that. Or perhaps a chairlift stopped. I order a second vin chaud and have another look at the menu.

  The door of the restaurant flies open, there’s a gust of cold air and Adam crashes in. He looks around wildly, spots me, and plonks himself down at the opposite side of the table. I feel a twinge of unease. Where is Will? Is he injured or something?

  ‘Louisa,’ he pants, obviously out of breath. ‘So sorry to keep you waiting. Have you ordered yet? How was your lesson?’

  ‘It was great thanks, Adam, but where’s Will? Is he OK?’

  He whips off his hat, turns and lifts his hand at the waitress in that officious, entitled way that only people from his privileged background can do. She comes scurrying over, of course.

  ‘God, I’m dying for a beer. Absolutely RACED down here. So sorry to be late. Une bière, s’il vous plaît?’ he says to the waitress, who nods and scuttles off. ‘Sorry that was very rude of me – I didn’t check if you were sorted. Did you want anything?’

  I lift my vin chaud. ‘No, it’s OK, I’ve got a drink. Where’s Will?’

  ‘He sent me to apologize. We were over in the next valley and he broke a binding. Stupid arse is always trying to do these jumps which he can’t do properly. Anyway, he landed badly as usual, his skis came off and one of them wouldn’t go back on. So he had to walk down, and because we hired them over here he won’t be able to exchange them for another pair over there – or at least, not without a huge amount of hassle, finding a shop in the same chain and the like, plus it was going to take ages even for him to walk down on that side, so he asked me to come and tell you and say sorry and be your lunch date today instead. I hope I’m not too poor a substitute.’

  I listen to him with growing anger. Is that really what happened, or has Will sent Adam with an excuse so he can get out of having to ski with me this afternoon? I was so excited about showing him my new-found skills and now it’s not going to happen.

  When Adam’s beer arrives, he downs it in one and slams the glass on the table. ‘Damn! So thirsty. Are you hungry? Can I have a look at your menu?’

  I hand over the menu and he scans it. ‘Do you want to share a pierrade?’

  I don’t know what that is but agree anyway – partly because I don’t want to admit to my ignorance yet again, but also because now that I know Will isn’t going to be here, I feel my day has been ruined and I no longer care what I eat.

  ‘Sounds great,’ I say. ‘And a bottle of red to go with it?’ I want to ask if Will is going to turn up later but don’t want to sound too needy.

  Adam looks up at me and smiles. ‘My kind of girl. Bottle of red it is.’

  It turns out a pierrade is a hot stone that you cook strips of beef on at the table. It arrives with a massive salad, a huge plate of chips and four bowls of dips, all of which are delicious. Adam orders the wine – I’ve no idea how much it cost and I’m hoping he’s not expecting us to split the bill because I’m guessing it’s going to be expensive.

  This is the first time I’ve been with Adam on my own and it turns out he’s much better company than I would have expected. When he and Will are together, there’s constant sniping – they always seem to be competing, looking for any excuse to put each other down. Without Will here, Adam seems somehow softer.

  We talk about his job in the City. Adam says that while he enjoys the money and the lifestyle that comes with it, he doesn’t like the job much and doesn’t see himself doing it forever.

  ‘Thing is, though,’ he adds, dipping an almost-raw piece of meat into the most garlicky sauce and chewing it thoughtfully, ‘I don’t know what else I could do. Plus it would be hard to give up the money. You get on a treadmill, big mortgage, high-maintenance girlfriend …’

  ‘Nell’s high maintenance?’ I ask innocently as if I hadn’t noticed. ‘How long have you been together?’

  He snorts. ‘Couple of years. And yeah, she’s high maintenance, but that’s OK. She loves the City-boy lifestyle and all that comes with it.’ He sighs. ‘But if I’m honest, it goes two ways.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, she’s really fit, so … we both benefit. Just in different ways.’

  I laugh. ‘So she’s not “the one”?’ I must be a bit drunk. What sort of question is that?

  He turns to wave the waitress over again. ‘She’s more the one for now, I think. No harm in being together for a bit of fun, is there?’ There’s an awkward pause, broken by the arrival of the waitress. ‘Only young once and all that. Dessert?’ he asks.

  I shake my head.

  ‘Two genepis please,’ Adam says to the waitress as she clears our plates. I know I should be annoyed about Adam ordering for me without even asking, but what I’d usually see as arrogance, right now I see as admirable confidence.

  ‘What’s genepi?’ I ask.

  He turns back to me. ‘It’s a mountain liqueur. You’ll like it, trust me. Don’t let the colour put you off. Anyway, enough about me. What about you and Will? Is he your “the one”?’

  I blush. ‘I can’t tell you that. You’re his brother.’

  He leans in conspiratorially. ‘I won’t tell, I promise.’

  I laugh. ‘You might.’

  He leans in further and looks directly into my eyes. ‘Trust me,’ he says. His pupils are large and black. I feel a stab of something I shouldn’t and lean back, feeling guilty. The waitress returns with our drinks and we sip from the elaborately decorated shot glasses in silence. Adam is still looking intently at me.

  ‘It’s good, huh?’ he asks.

  I nod as the alcohol burns my throat. It’s a weird pale green colour, tastes very strong but it’s sugary too. I take another sip, which makes me cough. ‘Yeah. It’s good. I’m definitely not going to be able to ski after all this though.’

  ‘No matter – take a look out the window,’ he says, pointing behind me. I turn to look and notice for the first time that while we have been having lunch, the weather has totally changed. It’s snowing hard and a big cloud has come down.

  ‘Wow, that’s quite a difference,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah,’ he agrees, taking another sip. ‘You wouldn’t want to ski in that. Might as well stay here and get drunk. Or we could go back
and use that sauna in the chalet.’

  I drink some more of the green liquid which is making my lips tingle pleasantly. ‘OK,’ I say, unsure of exactly what I’m agreeing to but too fuzzy-headed to care.

  Adam leans in again. ‘So, you were telling me about Will.’

  I smile. ‘No, I wasn’t. You were trying to get me to tell you about Will. It’s not the same thing at all.’ I dangle the small shot glass from my fingertips and let it swing.

  ‘You seemed pretty cross with him yesterday at dinner.’

  I put the glass down. I didn’t think anyone would have noticed. Am I that obvious? Apart from anything else, I didn’t think anyone at the table was paying me any attention. ‘Yeah. Well, I was annoyed about how the skiing had gone; I hadn’t had a good day. But it wasn’t Will’s fault, and today’s been much better. I’m not cross with him at all now.’

  ‘Shame he couldn’t make it for lunch though,’ Adam says, and leans back again.

  What did he mean by that? Was the broken ski an excuse?

  I’m not going to let him draw me in like this. He’s probably just trying to put Will down.

  ‘Yeah. It’s a shame. But it doesn’t matter, I’ll see him later. And he sent you, so …’

  That came out wrong. I meant he was thinking of me, not that …

  A grin spreads across his face. ‘Yes he did. And it’s been nice getting to know each other a little, hasn’t it? Shall we have another drink?’

  I look out the window. It is snowing even harder now. It’s cosy and warm in here with the fire on and I can’t face going out into the cold yet.

  ‘One more,’ I say. ‘And then I’m going to go back to the chalet to warm up in the sauna.’

  In the end, we have three more. And two coffees. It is almost half past three by the time we leave the restaurant. Adam hands me his poles and hoiks my skis onto his shoulder without a word, for which I’m grateful – even though I’ve almost got the hang of carrying the skis now, I’m going to struggle in driving snow, horrendous wind and after all those drinks.

  The wind bites at my face as we trudge back along the short road to the chalet and my hands are absolutely freezing in spite of my thick gloves. I think about how much I’m looking forward to the heat of a sauna. Adam puts the skis in the lockers in the boot room and pulls off his hat.

  ‘Whew! Some kind of weather, hey? Hope Will and Nell are OK and don’t get stuck in the other valley or anything. They might be closing lifts soon if it goes on like this.’

  ‘They do that?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, sometimes. But don’t worry – you’ll have Will back this evening. Even if they do have to close lifts, they’ll lay on buses. Only time he’d get stuck is if he just misses the last lift because of his own stupid fault. So let’s hope he got his ski sorted.’

  ‘I’m sure he will. He’s pretty resourceful,’ I say.

  Adam gives me a look. ‘If you say so,’ he says dismissively. By now we are at the doors to our rooms, which are opposite each other. I’ve a feeling their room is bigger and smarter than ours, and probably with a better view.

  ‘Right. I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely freezing. I’m going to get changed and then maybe I’ll see you in the sauna?’ he says.

  I blush. Would Will mind me being in the sauna with Adam? I guess not; it’s no different to being in a swimming pool with someone.

  Or is it? I don’t have that much experience of saunas.

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘See you down there.’

  In our room I strip off my jacket, salopettes, and various layers. Naked, I look at myself in the full-length mirror. My borrowed salopettes are too tight and have left an angry red mark around my waist, and there’s a matching mark under my boobs where my bra strap has rubbed. Perhaps I should have invested in a sports bra like my skiing friend had said, but it just felt like one more thing to spend money on.

  There’s a knock at the door. I grab a towel to put around myself and open it. It’s Adam, also wearing a towel which is wrapped round his waist.

  ‘Louisa, hi. Sorry about this, but I seem to have forgotten my trunks. Do you think Will would mind terribly if I borrowed his? If this was Holland, obviously I’d go naked in the sauna, but that’s not OK in France, as far as I understand.’

  I blush and open the door wider. ‘Of course. Come in. I don’t think Will would mind – I’ll have a look through his stuff and see if I can find them.’

  Adam sits down on the bed. ‘I remember when we were kids, Will was always really retentive about unpacking whenever we went on holiday, while I’d just shove my suitcase under the bed and take stuff out as and when. Is he still like that?’

  I turn my back and open the cupboard. Will has indeed stacked all his clothes in tidy piles. Underneath, my shelves are a heap of messy, tangled clothes.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘You can probably see which shelves are his and which are mine.’ I sort through a pile of folded boxers and find Will’s trunks, similarly folded. I turn and wave them at Adam with a flourish.

  ‘Voila,’ I say, continuing to wave them around, as if I was doing the dance of the seven veils.

  Adam smiles and stands. He looks me up and down and suddenly I feel exposed. ‘Here,’ I say, holding the trunks out to him, but he doesn’t take them. Something in his face changes and in that instant, I realize what’s about to happen.

  I feel a surge of panic and try to back away against the cupboard as he seizes my wrist. His towel falls away and he crushes his mouth onto mine, pushing me back against the wardrobe door. He grabs at one of my breasts and for a second I am too shocked to do anything. He grinds his hips against mine and I feel my towel fall away.

  I twist my head away and make a strangled noise. He grips my face and turns it back towards him, forcing his mouth against mine again. He jabs his tongue in and takes my other wrist, pinning it above my head.

  I twist my head away. ‘What are you doing?’ I yelp, panicking. He hauls me round and throws me back onto the bed, still holding my hands above my head. He moves his knee up between my knees, forcing my legs apart.

  ‘Don’t give me that,’ he groans, kissing and biting at my neck and nudging both his knees up further now, edging my legs apart as I try in vain to keep them together. ‘You’ve been coming on to me all afternoon.’ He moves himself upwards, thrusts roughly and I cry out as I feel he is inside me. I struggle to lift my arms from where they are still pinned above my head to push him off, but I can’t.

  ‘Please, Adam, I don’t … I wasn’t,’ I try to shout, but it comes out as a whisper. I’m not sure if he even hears me. ‘I didn’t,’ I force out, but he carries on. His breathing gets faster and more shallow as he grinds into me and he is burrowing his head into my neck. I try to wriggle away but he is too heavy as he thrusts into me, still pinning me down. ‘Please …’ I hear myself beg. I try to move my arms and to twist myself away from him, but it’s useless.

  He is thrusting faster and harder; then he groans, shudders, and rolls off me.

  I lie there where he leaves me, on my back. I feel tears seeping out of my eyes and rolling down the side of my face. Was I coming on to him? Did I want this? I don’t know any more.

  He sits up and glances at me sideways before leaping up and putting his towel back round his waist, just as it was when he came in. I reach for my towel, which is next to me on the bed, and drape it over myself ineffectually. I’ve never felt so naked, so vulnerable.

  He’s probably been in the room less than five minutes, and the way he looks now, it’s almost like nothing has happened at all.

  ‘No need to tell anyone about this, Louisa, is there? No harm done. Anyway, you wanted it as much as I did. And it’s not as if anyone would believe otherwise, is it?’

  He snatches up the trunks and opens the door.

  ‘I’ll see you in the sauna.’

  27

  December 1998, La Madière, France

  Louisa

  After Adam leaves the room,
I am so stunned I don’t know what to do.

  Did that even happen?

  Did I lead him on?

  Did I want it as much as him, like he said?

  I start shivering and realize I’m cold. I haul myself up and get into the shower, turning the tap almost all the way round until the water is as hot as I can bear.

  I scrub myself with Will’s posh soap, and wash my hair, but I’m convinced I can still smell Adam on me.

  Should I tell Will what happened?

  Would he believe me?

  Would he think it was my fault?

  Was it my fault?

  I wrap myself in a towel again and lie on the bed. My skin feels pink and raw.

  Will’ll be back soon.

  I don’t want to be lying here like an invitation. That’s what Adam saw. Will isn’t like Adam but … even so. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.

  I haul myself up and dress in jeans and an old hoodie. I’m going to look frumpy compared with Nell in whatever her latest designer outfit will be this evening but right now, I don’t care. I can’t bear the thought of anything touching my skin. Anyone.

  I consider telling Will that I still have a headache and don’t want any dinner but in spite of my massive lunch I’m unexpectedly starving and have already played the part of the whiny, annoying girlfriend quite enough this trip – if I’m not careful, Will might dump me. Also – what if Adam tells him what happened and I’m not there to give my version of the story? What if Adam tells Will I was coming on to him all afternoon and that we had sex while he was still out skiing? Would he do that? He’s always trying to get one up on Will but … would telling him what we – he – did be a step too far?

  I don’t know.

  Would Will believe me if I told him the truth?

  I’m not sure about that either.

  I change my mind and swap my hoodie for a nicer top – I don’t want Will to be embarrassed by me – but I put on a scarf too, so you can’t see my neck. There are grazes and bruises. They’re not big – they’re ones that I could explain away by saying my ski jacket was rubbing, but I don’t want Adam looking at my skin, seeing what he did. I think maybe he’d get a kick out of that.