Five Ladies Go Skiing

by Karen Aldous

  In a panic I pushed the pole, quickly bending my knees to release it. I squealed as my leg jerked and a ski shot forward. Control went from me completely as I felt my body lurch forward. I threw my hands out to balance, but instead of standing, found my legs had straightened and I was sliding forward, my hands gathering snow as I gripped it, trying to slow myself down. I stopped but had somehow spun and found myself in a downward-facing-dog position. A very inelegant yoga pose! I looked between my legs. Ginny and Lou were busting their sides whilst presumably side-stepping upwards on their skis to rescue me, but then I felt my feet slipping away … Shit!

  ‘Help.’ The skis slid backwards taking me down. I clawed at the ice with no better idea of what I should do. Should I throw myself to one side? I saw Cathy behind me, steadying herself from the propulsion. I could knock her over too.

  ‘Out the way!’ I screamed then heard the thud of skis bashing the ice and saw Christoff speeding towards me. Swiftly, he stooped beside me, grabbed me under my arm and hauled me upright. Again. I wrenched down my jacket, regaining composure. ‘So that’s how not to do it,’ I said, checking I still had everything in place and straightening my goggles on my helmet. ‘Phew, thanks,’ I gasped, feeling such a fool with Ginny and Lou still bellowing infectious laughter. I found myself joining them as I pictured what I must have looked like.

  Ginny

  I hadn’t belly-laughed like that for years, but Kim was still in one piece, thank goodness. It was a great feeling, me on snow at the top of a ski slope without falling over – yet! A miracle. We all made it, despite Kim’s stunt. Great entertainment though. It was spectacularly hilarious, and I couldn’t help but giggle every time the picture zoomed in my mind’s eye. I wish I’d had my phone out and caught her on camera. It would be a big hit on YouTube. And Christoff must have known every muscle on her arm by now what with that earlier catch too.

  Thankfully, Christoff spoke very good English. I was worried we would end up having an instructor we couldn’t understand. He was also great eye-candy. I knew I was past all that, but he had those addictively bright eyes, attentive with silky long lashes. They had a way of making you feel he’s interested, even though you knew you were old enough to be his mother. And his stature and the way he just seemed to be there when you needed him brought me huge comfort. A modern-day knight in shiny red armour.

  With the drama over, Christoff lined us up in a row across the top of the slope. The first thing he demonstrated was forming a triangle with our skis. So far so good, as we had at least got to this stage on the dry slope, but then he demonstrated the plough and the most important part – to remember how to stop. Our first exercise was to snowplough down to markers zigzagging across the slope he pointed to and then push our heels down in the inside of the ski to slow down, then stop. He demonstrated the move three times, making it look extremely easy. But this was ice, not dry tufts, and being faced with a long slippery slope, we were all edging cautiously barely moving, let alone slowing and stopping.

  It was Lou who mastered it first. I knew she would. She just threw herself into it. Ploughed stopped, ploughed stopped, then again to the bottom. Then Kim. Kim who had never had any ski lessons as we had on the dry slope. We watched her confidently let herself slide with her knees nicely bent, then come slightly upright; then she let her knees bend again as she brought the backs of her skis out and slowed steadily then stopped. We held our breaths as she wobbled a little, but then she just seemed to relax and did it again.

  ‘Very good,’ Christoff said and we clapped as Lou and Kim made her their way back to the lift, which Kim was probably dreading. I didn’t have time to watch her. I was trying to focus but I was so proud of them. After several attempts at leaning forward, and visualising myself gliding down with the same grace, I went next. I allowed myself to slide just as Lou and Kim had, keeping my skis in their lovely triangle as I ploughed, but then I felt a wobble and next thing, I sped up. I was going too fast to think about pushing out the backs of my skis. I automatically leaned back, which was what you shouldn’t do, and the skis steered themselves to the other side of the slope.

  I threw myself onto the snow. Christoff was there in no time and hauled me up, my legs shaking and skis crossing, then I started to slide down as he let go. He took hold of my arm again.

  ‘Lean your downhill foot in,’ he said showing me with his ski. ‘Put the weight on the inside of your ski and lean up the mountain. Weight on the edge of your skis is like your brakes.’

  I followed instructions. In fact, I knew this from my previous lessons, but the fixation that the snow is slippery compared to the matting on dry slopes wouldn’t leave my head, and we all know logic escapes when you panic. Mine did, anyway.

  ‘Good try. Now, go across there and do the same only this time, follow me and do as I do.’

  It was so simple following his moves. I didn’t even think about it, I just did it. I smirked as I reached the bottom. ‘Yes,’ I cried. I couldn’t wait to get back up the lift and do it again – on my own.

  ‘Well done,’ Christoff said as we reached the lift. I glowed inside and out, my fears beginning to melt away as I was dragged back up by the lift. I watched as Lou reached mid-point, concentrating hard but ploughing again beautifully. I saw Cathy ploughing towards the lift, cautiously as I had done, her stance stiffly upright and eyes fixed to a spot. Kim was at the top, mentally psyching herself up, before leaning forward for the push-off. At my next attempt, I held my breath but set off again with more confidence, even making a lovely wide turn as I willed myself to keep going.

  We did this repeatedly for the next hour or so, just following a trail, practising, getting used to the snow. Tumbling and getting up. Ploughing again. It was fun.

  Christoff gathered us once more together at the top. ‘Well done, ladies. After lunch, I recommend you return here for further practice. You’re doing very well. For those who want to try, I have an exercise. It is to “Pat the Dog”.’ We immediately giggled. ‘I will show you.’

  We watched as he ploughed to the side and lowered his knees at the turn to pat an imaginary dog. ‘Inside ski. Here,’ he said. He turned again, doing the same on the other side. Then side-stepped back up to us.

  ‘You have one go now, but you can practise later too.’

  My tummy was rumbling at this point and I was feeling tired, but as we were heading back to the village for lunch very soon, I gave it my best shot.

  Between us we ploughed down, creating some interesting variations of ‘Pat the Dog’, which took some knee work, but I figured we had the afternoon to practise. For now, I was looking forward to walking down to the restaurant, resting my weary legs and sampling some more of the mouth-watering mountain food.

  We met Angie at the bottom, who – chewing on her usual edamame beans – wiped her hand on her ski pants and clapped. ‘I’m so impressed; you’ve all done so well,’ she told us. ‘And provided me with great entertainment.’ She winked at us, her eyes rolling towards Christoff.

  We proudly removed our skis while discussing our jaunt and gathering our poles as we heaved the skis again to our shoulders. We then headed for the Belleview in the hope of finding a table outside. The sunny Belleview terrace was heaving, but Cathy thought she spotted a party leaving. I was chatting to Lou as we stood waiting, but I could tell she was distracted; judging by her expression something or someone had disturbed her, and she was hobbling around me as if trying to hide. She then pointed to La Poste.

  ‘Actually,’ she said, looking over in the direction of the restaurant, ‘I’m sure Stefano will have outside tables. Let’s go down to the terrace there. We’ll still have a view.’

  Cathy was insistent. ‘No, look – they’re doing coats up.’

  ‘I’m going up here,’ Lou said and strode off rudely.

  I shrugged at the others and followed Lou. ‘This isn’t like you. What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing. Oh, too much drink last night probably. But I’m hungry and we could wait forever
.’

  I was unconvinced but beckoned the others to follow.

  Lou was brushing me off. She’s normally so easy-going and that reaction was uncharacte‌ristically bad-mannered. I’m sure the girls thought it too. I just couldn’t understand why. Fortunately, she had found a table in a great spot. I sat beside her. The sun pulsed down on the La Poste terrace and although it wasn’t sheltered by glass like the Belleview, the temperature was surprisingly pleasant considering it was the end of December and there was still a terrific outlook. I removed my helmet and gloves, instantly feeling cool air on the back of my neck, so I pulled up my snood.

  I was just about to ask Lou what was wrong again when Didier, the waiter we had met the night before, came over to us with menus. We ordered water and wine and he told us he would return to take our choices for lunch. Peering around, I spotted Neil, my knight in shining armour this morning, over at another table. He saw me at the same time. I politely waved, trying not to blush. He was with a group of men, some in similar suits to Christoff. He had obviously been out on the slopes going by his ruddy cheeks. He waved back and gave me a warm smile. That was a man who looked after himself. I liked that about him, and his kind eyes. Kim spotted him too and waved.

  I nudged Lou with my elbow. ‘So, are you going to tell me why you didn’t want to stop at the Belleview?’

  ‘It’s better here, don’t you think?’

  Angie leant across the other side. ‘I have to say, I was surprised. It’s not like you to be uptight, Lou. But you’re right. It’s lovely. And, look, there’s Christoff. I have to say I’m jealous you Flowers got him as an instructor. I was tempted to join you. I’ve seen him here before. He’s really hot.’

  ‘He is,’ Cathy said. ‘That man he’s just sat next to isn’t bad either.’

  Lou and I turned. ‘That’s Neil,’ Kim said. ‘He’s the one who rescued Ginny in the hire shop. Really sweet, wasn’t he, Ginny?’

  Trying to appear nonchalant, I smiled. ‘He was … is.’

  ‘That’s why you chose this place isn’t it, Lou,’ Angie heckled. ‘You saw Christoff heading here.’

  Lou held up her hands. ‘OK. You’ve got me. So now you can all thank me for the eye-candy,’ she said, seemingly glad for an excuse. She opened her lip gloss.

  I left it at that, watching Didier pour wine into our glasses. I picked up the carafe of water and filled each tumbler. After opting for hot tomato and basil soup with crusty bread for lunch and a cheeseboard between us to follow, we launched into chatter about our first attempt at proper snow skiing, comparing notes and variations of the incidents and highlights of the morning, the Swiss wine swimming down our throats too easily.

  Didier returned with a large tray, a kettle of steaming soup along with warm bowls and a basket with the crusty loaf already sliced.

  ‘More wine, Flowers?’ Cathy asked as she drip-fed her empty glass and held up the bottle for Didier. ‘Encore le vin?’

  It was a silly question, wasn’t it? But with five of us it only equated to two small glasses each. Swiss glasses are much smaller than the ones we’re used to at home. The soup was delicious and filling. I was so chilled sitting there. I leant back on my chair feeling the radiating winter sunshine on my skin whilst the girls enthused and of course embellished their stories. It was so lovely to be with them and after the morning on the nursery slope my view of skiing was changing, and my appreciation of their choice and effort deepened. Closing my eyes, I floated off.

  The closest I’d been to a mountain was in the Lake District. Mike and I used to take the children when they were young. We walked for hours of course, but they loved to play around edge of Derwent Water in the late sunshine when we hired a little cottage close to Keswick. It was a warm sunny day like this when Mike and I sat out on the terrace overlooking the lake as Ross and Rachel played – throwing stones across the top of the water, honing their skills to skim and bounce them. Mike and I watched, sitting on an antiquated red sofa with our feet up on a box he made as a stool. His hand covered mine as we sat awash with contentment. I adored those shared golden moments.

  Thoughts of Mike and the anniversary in two days drifted in. My mind churned as it often did with memories and questions. How this time last year he was in the hospice, in and out of consciousness, delirious with drugs and not making any sense. He was muttering all sorts, some familiar things, like that he’d left his blue suit in the car, that tea was nice, or work-related stuff, like I can’t get to the wires, give me a torch or I shouldn’t have sent Brian on that job. Everyday stuff. But still gnawing at me are the less familiar things, like saying ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ then ‘Sorry, love, it’s the only time I’ve ever been unfaithful.’

  ‘What? When?’ I’d asked, my heart stopping and my stomach tumbling. That hurt. Still hurts. To this day I’ve no answer. I searched his phone, his contact books, paperwork. Anything I thought would offer a clue. Asking him, of course, was fruitless. Nothing I said made sense to him either. I tried not to dwell on it. Tried. Tried and tried. But it was hard to ignore something like that. I heard Kim’s voice calling.

  We’d forgotten about the arduous climb as we headed back up to the nursery slope after our cheese and a third bottle of wine. Yes, the Swiss cheeses and crackers soaked it up perfectly. The Gruyere in particular; its solid texture and nutty flavour was just divine. And possibly the one good reason why subsequent exertion is a must. It seemed a shame to leave our sunny lunch spot as we’d discovered the nursery slope was cooler now, shaded by the mountain.

  Without Christoff there, Angie joined us insisting she would lead us down. Once we’d ploughed down, practising our ‘Pat the Dogs’ and falling on our backsides, we were soon warmed up. I was pleased that Cathy was quickly gaining confidence. I knew she was as apprehensive as I was, if not more so, and like me, she seemed to be having fun. I was finding it surprisingly rewarding as well as challenging. I knew I was ploughing, but I felt I was really skiing. I might not have been be parallel skiing yet and didn’t feel brave enough to tackle the bigger slopes, but I couldn’t help feeling I should have given it a go when Mike had asked me years ago.

  After an hour, Angie suggested we save our poor old legs for our lessons the following day. Lou and Kim, both fitter and sportier than Cath and I, protested.

  ‘Oh, no, not yet. I’m really enjoying myself,’ Lou moaned.

  ‘Me too. Just another half hour,’ Kim urged Angie.

  But, to be honest, my thighs and calves were beginning to resemble a rugby player’s. At least, that’s how they felt.

  Angie shrugged, digging one of her poles into the snow. ‘By all means, stay. It’s not for me to tell you what to do. I’d happily carry on, but I know you’ll regret it tomorrow. You’ll overdo it and your legs will tire, believe me.’

  Lou and Kim glanced at one another, Lou expressing a defiant pout and Kim feigning a sad face.

  ‘She’s probably right,’ Kim told her. ‘My thighs are screaming.’

  I let out a sigh, grateful I wasn’t the only one in pain, and decided to back Angie.

  ‘I need to go back to the chalet for a hot bath. Hopefully soothe these hard-worked muscles in some Radox and have a snooze.’ I rubbed my knees. ‘Après-ski will have to wait.’

  ‘Sounds like a sensible plan to me, darling girls,’ Cathy agreed. ‘Rest now. Go out about seven. We’re sure to be hungry later after all the energy we’ve expelled.’

  I wanted to poke Lou in the ribs as I observed the defeated sulk on her face, but I didn’t dare reach with my skis on. ‘Come on, Lulu,’ I teased. ‘We’ve earned some of that yummy Swiss chocolate that’s in the fridge.’

  Her eyes brightened. ‘Oh, you’re right,’ she said making me titter. ‘I can sacrifice the skiing for chocolate. And, I don’t fancy going to the bar again.’

  I pondered this, curious. Something was niggling her.

  Chapter 7

  Cathy

  I couldn’t believe it. I had just had a lovely hot
soak in the bath, a little read, wandered down the stairs to join the girls for a warm mug of tea and a bit of chocolate, and was looking forward to burying my head back in my book when my phone rang. Anthony’s name lit up. I stared as it rang for several seconds. I wished the battery was dead or that I’d left it upstairs out of earshot.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ I said, uncurling my weary legs and making my way to the stairs. ‘Hold on, I’m just going upstairs so that I don’t disturb everyone.’

  As I climbed the stairs, I wasn’t sure that I could cope with another round of moaning and questions. It was draining me. And, to my knowledge, none of the others were receiving constant phone calls.

  ‘How are you?’ I asked as I closed the bedroom door.

  ‘Missing you like mad, my cherub, and eager to know how your first day skiing went?’ Anthony said, sounding chirpier at least.

  I walked over to the French doors, looking at the view. ‘I miss you too, darling and the skiing went much better than I anticipated.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Yes, I’m a little bit slower than the others, but I’d rather that than break something,’ I admitted. ‘Kim was very funny going up the lift, actually. She slid whilst she was trying to stand and get her balance, but our ski instructor is very strong and caught her.’

  ‘Sounds dangerous.’

  ‘Not at all, the snow is very forgiving, and the slope isn’t too steep.’

  There was a pause. ‘So, how old is this strong instructor?’ Anthony asked.

  I opened one of the doors to let in some air. ‘Put it this way, I’m probably old enough to be his mother so don’t go there. What have you been doing?’ I asked before I got the full interrogation.