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

by Catherine Cooper

  ‘So. This next bit’s steeper. You’ll need to take it easy. I can see you like speed,’ Cameron says to Adam as pointedly as you can when you’re having to shout to be heard over the wind, ‘but there are two things you should know about that: it’s dangerous to go faster than is suitable for your ability, and skiing accurately is much more important than skiing fast.’

  I smirk – neither of them will be able to see under my various scarves and layers. That little reprimand will have pissed Adam off no end. He can’t stand being told what to do or having his skiing ability questioned.

  ‘Got you,’ Adam says, not bothering to hide his irritation.

  ‘Right,’ says Cameron. ‘I’m going to lead – please watch where I go and don’t overtake me this time. I know the route very well and it’s dangerous for you to race ahead off-piste in these conditions when you don’t know the terrain. Understood?’

  ‘Got you, like I said,’ Adam repeats, even more irritably. Cameron nods and skis off, slick as anything.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, was there really any need for him – whatever his name is – to speak to me like that?’ Adam grumbles.

  ‘It’s what ski guides do – try to keep you safe. It’s their job.’

  ‘Try to patronize me, more like,’ Adam retorts. He uses his poles to push himself off, not as fast and not nearly as slick as Cameron, whatever Adam might think. And then, on his second turn, he falls.

  I watch in horror as he tumbles down the slope and both skis ping off. It’s pretty steep here and it’s snowing so hard that soon he is out of sight. Fuck.

  ‘Adam!’ I yell. ‘You OK?’

  Silence. Or rather, not silence, just a howling wind. Would he have even heard me shouting? Would I be able to hear him?

  ‘ADAM!’ I yell again. Nothing.

  ‘I’M COMING DOWN!’ I holler. ‘Stay where you are!’

  Fuck. Fuck. I’m never good in these kind of situations. He’ll be fine, I tell myself. I push myself away and ski down carefully, slowly. Of the two of us – not that I’d ever admit it – Adam is the better skier and I don’t know what made him fall. Ice? A rock? Just bad luck? I don’t want the same to happen to me.

  Oh God. Oh God. At least his skis came off, so hopefully he won’t have hurt his legs.

  Shit! His skis! Where are they? I look back up the slope, but the snow is too deep. I can’t see them; they could be anywhere. Never mind. I’ll worry about that later. More important to find my brother.

  ‘ADAM!’ I shout again. ‘ADAM!’

  This time I think I hear something – though it may just have been the wind. ‘Stay there! I’m coming!’ I shout, uselessly.

  Then I hear it. ‘Over here!’

  I feel a bolt of relief shoot through me. Thank God! ‘Where are you?’ I shout.

  ‘Over here, you useless bastard,’ he shouts back, making it clear to me in an instant that he’s not hurt. ‘In the snow.’

  ‘Oh, in the snow! That helps,’ I yell back sarcastically. ‘Now I know exactly where you are.’

  ‘Over here, you bellend.’

  I follow the sound of his voice, though it’s difficult to hear him over the sound of the wind. I ski as slowly as I can, making a few slow, gentle turns. I don’t want to fall. A little further down, Adam’s colourful jacket looms into sight through the whiteness. ‘There you are. What happened?’ I ask.

  ‘Dunno. Caught an edge, I guess.’ He pauses. ‘Where are my skis?’

  My stomach lurches. I should have picked them up, but I panicked, wanting to get to Adam. Then again, he shouldn’t have fallen. ‘Where you left them, I would have thought,’ I say, evenly.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Will, didn’t you think to get them on the way down?’

  Nice; he cocks it up and somehow it’s all my fault. ‘I thought I should come and see if you’d broken your back or fallen off a precipice or something, you ungrateful shit.’

  ‘Right. So how am I meant to get down now?’

  We both listen to the wind howl for a few beats.

  ‘I could ski down, find the guides and then we come up again and find your skis on the way down?’ I suggest.

  ‘No way,’ Adam says, hauling himself to his feet. ‘It’s bloody freezing, I’m not sitting here on my soaking wet arse while you do that. I can’t have fallen that far, let’s hike up a bit and find my skis. Can’t be that hard.’

  I look up the slope. It’s barely possible to tell the difference between the ground and the air, and you certainly can’t see the sky. Everything is white.

  I shake my head. ‘I don’t think that’s going to work. Your skis could be anywhere – we’ll never find them. I think it’s better if—’

  ‘Fine,’ Adam snaps. ‘Do what you like. I’m going up the slope to look for my skis. You carry on down if you want.’

  Adam starts trudging up the slope. After a couple of steps, he tips himself forward and puts his hands in the ground and continues to scrabble up that way – it’s too steep to go up any further without doing so.

  For fuck’s sake. I can’t leave him here on his own. I click my boots out of my skis and follow Adam up the hill, awkwardly carrying my skis and poles with me. I can’t put them down – I might not find them again.

  It’s hard work, and very soon I can feel myself sweating under my ski jacket in spite of the bitingly cold wind. I stay at a distance from Adam – there’s no point in us both covering the same ground. I’m about to shout up to him that this is pointless, that I’ve changed my mind, that I’m going to go and find the guides, get to a ski shop and bring him back some new skis, anything to get off this fucking freezing cold mountain with no visibility when Adam shouts ‘I’ve got one!’

  Thank God for that. I crawl over to where Adam is brandishing his ski like a javelin. ‘See!’ he crows. ‘Told you. It’s all going to be fine. Now the other one must be around here somewhere. Let’s keep looking.’

  We start poking around with our ski poles but, whatever Adam says, there’s no guarantee it will be close by and it’s impossible to see anything. The snow is really deep here.

  ‘Can’t you make it down on one ski?’ I ask impatiently. ‘Given that you’re such a shit-hot skier?’

  ‘Not on this type of terrain, you utter and complete arse,’ he replies. ‘Come on, help me out, it’s got to be here somewhere.’

  But the cold is getting to me now. ‘Fuck’s sake, Adam, this is ridiculous. We could both die out here if we’re not careful. I’m going to head off and find the guides. They’re probably shitting their pants about where we are anyway. They must have a procedure for this. Maybe they can send a snowcat up to get you or something.’

  ‘Too steep,’ Adam barks. ‘Just help me look.’

  I’m genuinely starting to feel scared now. I think Adam is too, not that he’d ever admit it. But one of us needs to do something.

  ‘No. I’m going down. We could be here forever doing this.’

  ‘Fuck you, Will – help me, won’t you? There’s no point in having spent this much time looking for it, only for you to—’

  ‘I’m going,’ I insist. ‘I’m going to get help. It’s the sensible thing to do, whether you can see it or not. If you can’t make it down on one ski, you’ll have to wait here. One way or another, I’ll get someone to come for you. They’re not just going to leave you here. It’ll be fine.’

  I carefully place my skis down and try to get them back on but the slope is so steep and there’s so much snow in my boots and bindings that it’s almost impossible.

  ‘Fuck’s sake, Adam!’ I explode. ‘Why the fuck did I listen to you! I can’t get my bloody skis on now!’

  ‘And that’s my fault how?’ he shouts back. ‘Help me look for the other ski and we can both get down off this mountain.’

  One ski finally clicks into place. I take a deep breath. ‘Adam, I think it’s best for both of us if I go and get help. I’m not doing this to prove a point or even because I don’t want to help you – which, I have t
o admit, right at this moment I really fucking don’t. But we’ve no doubt strayed from where we were originally, so even the guides probably wouldn’t know how to find us. We’re not on a piste – there’ll be no patrol. This is properly dangerous, Adam – life-and-death stuff. I need to go, let the guides know that you are here and that you’re stuck. OK? Then they can get help. It’s the only sensible thing to do.’

  Adam doesn’t reply but keeps stabbing uselessly at the snow with his pole. Fuck him. I’m getting off this mountain. My second ski finally clicks into place and I push myself away. Adam grabs me.

  ‘You’re not going.’

  ‘I am. Let go of me.’

  I try to force him off me, but I can’t turn because my skis are pointing the wrong way and I’m holding my poles. He pushes me over and we both fall.

  My head hits something hard.

  29

  January 2020, La Madière, France

  Hugo

  ‘A body?’ I ask. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t think they know much more than that,’ Matt says. ‘A body was discovered early this morning. Until they’ve ascertained what happened, no one can ski in the sector where it was found. They can’t open the lifts in the higher sectors anyway this morning because of the wind, so … There are a few runs open at the bottom, but not much of any interest to anyone except beginners I don’t think.’

  ‘Oh, how awful!’ Ria says. I look at her for the first time since she came downstairs. She looks pale and startled, but she’s still beautiful. I feel a stirring of lust and am annoyed with myself. I’m still cross with her, I tell myself. I’m not letting her off the hook that easily.

  Matt nods solemnly. ‘Yes, awful. All I’ve been told is that a body has been found, the police and mountain rescue are investigating, but it’s taking longer than usual because of the terrible weather. The road into the resort is blocked and they can’t even fly a helicopter in these high winds so …’

  ‘Poor bugger,’ I say.

  Ria looks at me and then across at Matt and – oh God – she holds his gaze too long for my liking. My face grows hot. I bury my face in my paper and pretend to read the news.

  ‘A terrible thing,’ Matt continues. ‘The police have sealed off a huge area. As you can imagine in a small resort like this, there’s a lot of gossip and speculation going around, but we don’t know who it is yet – not even if it’s someone local or a visitor – and I doubt we will know for a while.’

  ‘Do they know what happened?’ Ria asks. ‘Who found him? It. Them. Is it a man?’

  Matt pulls a face. ‘Like I say, at the moment it’s mainly rumour and speculation. As I understand it, one of the piste-basher drivers almost ran over the body on his way back down to the resort in the early hours of this morning. I’m not sure exactly where it was found, but it sounds unlikely it was a skier – the mountain guys would have scooped up any stray people still on the slopes when they did their final rounds at the end of the day. My best guess is someone had a few too many in one of the bars last night, got lost on the way home and tripped over, or simply fell asleep in the snow.’ He pauses. ‘Not that we should be speculating, of course.’

  ‘Does that kind of thing happen often?’ I ask.

  ‘Not too often, thankfully – it’s not something I’ve ever had personal experience of – but you do hear about it now and again, in the press or from other reps. Terrible thing. But people come on holiday, drink too much, and feel invincible. The mountains can be dangerous, and you have to respect them.’

  The room falls silent. Matt gives himself a shake and says, ‘Anyway. Enough lecturing from me. I assume everyone is present and correct here?’

  I look up from my paper, which I can’t understand anyway as it’s in French; I should have brought my iPad downstairs. ‘I haven’t seen the others yet. But I imagine they fancied a lie-in – it turned into rather a late night. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have gone out.’

  ‘Does anyone know if Cameron stayed in the end?’ Matt asks.

  ‘No idea,’ I say, turning back to the paper. I’m ashamed to find for a fleeting moment that I hope it’s Cameron who’s been found in the snow. I push the thought away. He’s a knob, but no one deserves to freeze to death like that.

  ‘Me neither,’ Ria adds.

  Matt pauses. ‘OK. I guess I’ll give him a call later. No need to disturb him unnecessarily.’

  We all continue eating breakfast in silence.

  PART THREE

  30

  BEFORE

  Mama was crying. I didn’t want to eat my dinner – it was Weetabix, like it often was when Mama was too tired to cook. I’d thrown it on the floor. I thought Mama would shout at me because I’d made a mess – but she didn’t. She sat down on one of our two rickety kitchen chairs and started crying – not just a bit, but really, really sobbing. Huge hiccupping sobs so big that she could barely catch her breath.

  ‘Mama?’ I said, reaching out and touching her hand, which she pulled away to swipe angrily at her eyes. ‘Mama? Don’t cry …’ But she carried on, not even saying anything, and soon I started crying too.

  Suddenly she jumped up and stood in the corner of the kitchen with her hands over her ears. ‘No, no, no!’ she screamed, and then sank down to the floor, still sobbing, but more quietly now.

  I got down from my chair, even though I wasn’t allowed to get down until I had finished my food, but I thought maybe Mama wouldn’t mind this time. Or maybe she would mind even more than usual. I didn’t know.

  I pushed my chair over to the sink, climbed up on it and picked up a cloth. It was slimy and smelt weird. I climbed down and dabbed at the Weetabix on the floor like I’d seen Mama do when I’d thrown my food before. But it didn’t seem to make it better – it spread it out further. I hoped Mama wouldn’t shout at me.

  ‘Mama, I clean it,’ I said, dabbing at it again and holding up the cloth. ‘Look.’ I stared down at the mush on the floor. It was still there but I said, ‘All gone now,’ even so.

  Her hands were covering her face and she was still sobbing loudly. I didn’t know what to do. ‘Mama, I put myself to bed. You have rest. I a big girl now,’ I said. I thought that would make her feel better. She was always so tired.

  I wandered into the room we shared, took off my clothes and put on my nightie. It was too small and had a rip in it, but I didn’t care because it had pictures of bubbles on. It was my favourite thing to wear and sometimes I wore it all day as well as at night. Usually Mama didn’t notice.

  I got into my little bed with Teddy and opened a book. I couldn’t read but I didn’t have many books and I knew all the stories off by heart. I could tell which one this was by the pictures – it was the one about the giant – so I started to read to Teddy. Mama didn’t always read me a story, but sometimes when she had had a good day she did. Mostly, she didn’t.

  It was difficult for me to tell when Teddy was asleep because he didn’t move or talk very much, so I read all the way to the end of the book, even though I couldn’t remember all the words and I might have got some of them wrong. I didn’t think Teddy minded. He and I spent a lot of time together because I didn’t know any other children. Then I lay down and shut my eyes tight. I left the light on because that’s what I always did when I went to sleep. That way, no monsters could come in before Mama did. When Mama came to bed she would turn off the light, but that was OK, I didn’t mind because monsters definitely wouldn’t come in while she was there, even if she was asleep. She would protect me.

  I squeezed my eyes so tight it started to hurt. I opened them again, but Mama still wasn’t there. I held my breath to see if I could hear if she was still crying but I couldn’t tell. I sang softly to Teddy – he liked songs. I didn’t know many songs, only the ones I’d heard on the TV, but I didn’t think Teddy minded.

  Teddy danced while I sang. I laughed, but quietly, so as not to disturb Mama. Mama didn’t like it if I made any noise once I was in bed. I couldn’t tell the time
, but sometimes when Mama put me to bed it was still light outside and it would take me ages to get to sleep. But I didn’t mind, as long as I had Teddy. Teddy was a good friend to me. My only friend really.

  Eventually I fell asleep, but Mama wasn’t in bed. And when I woke up in the morning, she still wasn’t there.

  I took Teddy and got up. ‘Mama?’ I called. ‘Mama?’ She wasn’t in the living room. Most nights she came to sleep in our room but sometimes she would fall asleep with the TV on and I would find her in the morning on the sofa. But the TV was all black and she wasn’t there.

  ‘Mama? Mama?’ Normally I was awake first, but sometimes, hardly ever, Mama was already in the kitchen having breakfast when I woke up. But today she wasn’t in there either.

  Never mind. I was a big girl and I could make my own breakfast. I’d done it before. Sometimes Mama was too tired or too sad to get out of bed and I would look after myself all day. That was what big girls like me did.

  The cereal I had thrown the day before was still on the ground. The Weetabix packet was still on the table, so I climbed on the chair to get it. I got a bowl from the cupboard – I couldn’t use my favourite one as it was still on the floor, and I chose a spoon from the drawer – my best one with the picture of a princess on the end. Then I got the milk out of the fridge and sniffed it like I’d seen Mama doing. I poured it into the bowl and sprinkled on some sugar.

  The Weetabix tasted nice. Once I had finished I moved my chair so I could stand on it and washed the bowl under the tap like Mama did when the sink would get so full that nothing else would fit. There were lots of other things in the sink already and it smelt funny, but I didn’t try to wash any of the other things. There were knives, and I wasn’t allowed to touch knives. They were sharp and could hurt me, Mama would say. Sometimes she would show me the cuts on her arms which were from knives. She said she was showing me so that I would know how dangerous knives are, but I didn’t like it when she did that and I would say no, no, no I don’t want to look.