Five Ladies Go Skiing

by Karen Aldous

  ‘I was just interested, that’s all. You’ll have to send me over some photos.’

  ‘Darling, I’m trying to focus on the skiing. I’m not likely to get my phone out whilst I’m on the snow. Maybe when I feel more confident. Anyway, have you been busy?’

  ‘I went online and found the live webcam. I looked for you. The village looks nice.’

  ‘I doubt the webcam is on the nursery slope, but yes the village is lovely, and the people are friendly.’

  ‘How was your meal last night?’

  ‘Oh, it was beautiful, and so much of it. I think about six or seven courses. Ginny really seemed to be enjoying herself for once. We had a lovely evening, dancing too.’

  ‘Who were you dancing with?’ I heard him slurping his drink.

  ‘Well, the girls of course. You know how we all love Abba.’

  ‘Sounds like you’re all having a rave.’

  ‘We’re just having a bit of fun, darling, and making sure Ginny enjoys her week. So, will I get an answer to my question?’

  ‘Well, there’s not much fun here to report. I did the crossword, sudoku. Walked along to the shop for another paper. Didn’t meet anyone unless you count grouchy Gingerman walking his dog as someone. I went on the internet as I said, looking at the webcam there. Do you know there are more divorces in the over-sixties than any other age group nowadays?’

  I coughed. ‘Really! What newspaper was that, darling? Are there lots of divorce lawyer ads?’

  ‘It was on the internet.’

  ‘So the article had lawyer ads? Darling, you shouldn’t believe everything you read. Besides, if marriages are failing after sixty, maybe it says something about the length of marriage now we’re living longer. Men and women wanting to do their own thing.’

  He took another slurp. ‘Is that what you think?’

  ‘Women are more independent now, don’t you think? They have their own means. I don’t know, darling, you’ve read more about it than me. What does it say?’

  ‘You have your own means, cherub, but you’re not thinking of divorce, are you?’

  I wasn’t, but Anthony’s paranoia was beginning to make me. It wasn’t the time to discuss this. If I was to upset him with my thoughts currently, I could open Pandora’s box. ‘Anthony, I’m missing you, like I said. Stop fretting and find something to do. Haven’t you got a book you can read? I fear your brain is idling and you need to occupy it rather than sit and worry.’

  I stepped outside onto the wooden balcony; the cool air was refreshing.

  Anthony continued. ‘Do you know that you’re becoming more selfish? I know you don’t care about me anymore. You never spend time with me. You’re always locking yourself away and ignoring me like I’m a pesky child.’

  My free hand reached for my mouth, my fingers pressing on my lips. What was he saying? I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it wouldn’t shift. I couldn’t speak. I listened. First I heard him gulp, then he raised his voice.

  ‘Well? It’s true, isn’t it?’

  My voice rose. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re drunk, Anthony.’

  ‘You don’t know what to say because it’s true, Cath.’

  The anger inside me grew and I spoke louder. ‘Just because I’m writing doesn’t equate to ignoring you. Anthony, I talk to you when you come in even if I’m working.’

  ‘You do, Cath; that’s only because I make the effort to come and talk to you. When do you come and talk to me? I wouldn’t see you all day if I didn’t come in to your study. Bring you tea, lunch. Don’t you understand that I want your company, your attention?’

  ‘Then why choose now to talk to me about it? Why haven’t you spoken to me before? We could have discussed it before I came away. You want to ruin my week? Well, you won’t. You are the one who is selfish. Just because I’m married to you, it doesn’t mean to say I have to entertain you. What if I was working full-time at the school still? You would have to find something to do.’

  ‘I only retired because you wanted me to. You wanted to travel, remember? You wanted us to travel together and do things together, Cath. Now you want to shut yourself away and I’m left with nothing.’

  Tears burst out of me as I recollected his enthusiasm. ‘You told me you wanted to retire too. In fact, you wanted to travel, do voluntary work and pursue building log cabins or sheds or something – build yourself a workshop at the back of the garden whilst you were doing a carpentry course,’ I reminded him, wiping my eyes. ‘We were down in Whitstable for the day with Ginny, Mike, Lou and Terry, and we were all talking about what we would do when we sold up or retired, and you were buzzing with excitement. They all heard you. And me. I said I was going to pursue my writing. You can’t blame me for your own failings. I’ve never stopped you doing what you want to do. If you choose to sit around bored, that’s not my problem.’ I found myself calming, satisfied that I’d managed to hold my emotions together as I’d conveyed my argument.

  ‘Once, very convenient,’ he retorted.

  ‘Anthony, this conversation can wait. I’m sorry you’re not happy but I’m not going to continue now. It’s not the time nor the place. We’ll speak some more when I’m home.’

  ‘I expect you’re going out on another jolly then.’

  I sighed heavily. ‘Hardly going to be jolly now you’ve spoiled my mood. I’m going. Bye, Anthony. Speak when I’m home.’

  After pressing my thumb on the phone, I threw it on the bed and then myself, hurt and angry. I couldn’t solve Anthony’s problem, and neither would he with drink. I certainly hadn’t realised his frustration but to release it on me now, while I was in Switzerland … He was the one being selfish.

  Kim

  I was sitting in the lounge with my feet up reading another of Liane Moriarty’s books on my Kindle. I’d read one on the flight over from Oz, The Husband’s Secret, and was so enjoying Big Little Lies, when someone’s ringtone shrilled through me.

  ‘Who’s calling her now?’ I asked Lou as Cathy reached the top of the stairs and closed the door to her room. ‘She was on it for ages last night. Must be costing someone a fortune.’

  ‘Anthony, I think. I presume. I don’t know,’ Lou said, shrugging as she put down her paperback. ‘Maybe he’s missing her.’

  Angie snorted from behind a magazine. ‘He seems a different man since he’s retired and been back from travelling. He spent so many years mollycoddling celebrity clients that now he’s mollycoddling Cathy. I don’t think he’s coping without her there.’

  ‘Yes, she’s finding it all a bit intense,’ Lou sighed. ‘It was all right last year when they spent most of it travelling but she’s struggled having him at home full-time, particularly when she’s trying to write. She took her laptop up to the village library in the summer. I don’t know what she’ll do if it closes. Sit in one of the village pubs, I suspect.’

  Tucking my socked feet on to the sofa, I switched off my Kindle and remembered Cathy saying that she was writing short stories and had even had one published. She said she had also started a sort of Eat Pray Love type novel. About a woman going off to far-off destinations to find herself. I was keen to know where her writing would take her. Living in Australia meant I couldn’t keep up with everything that the Flowers get up to. It was a great opportunity to catch up now though. ‘Doesn’t Anthony have a hobby?’

  Lou twisted her mouth and shook her head. ‘Cathy says he’s up each day at six, has read The Times and completed the crossword by nine then spends his days fussing around her before his four o’clock nap. Other than that, he cleans their cars once a week.’

  ‘Not much fun, is it?’ I said, getting back to my Kindle, then jumped. At first, I thought I saw a marmot out of the corner of my eye, and almost freaked, then I saw it was Ginny coming down the stairs in grey fluffy slippers and dressing gown, her eyes heavy from a sleep. ‘Who is Cathy talking to? She sounds upset.’

  ‘Hmm.’ I lowered my Kindle onto my lap again. ‘We were just wonder
ing. We thought it might be Anthony.’

  Ginny slouched into an armchair. ‘Something’s up. I hope nothing awful has happened.’

  ‘Probably Anthony missing her? Home alone, he can’t deal with her being away,’ Angie said.

  Ginny glanced at Lou with a grimace. ‘I don’t think he would make a big issue of it. Though you don’t know, do you. He has been acting strange. I heard her crying and shouting. Well, I think that’s what I heard.’

  ‘Yes, we could hear it too,’ Lou said looking concerned.

  Ginny put her finger on her lips and spoke softly. ‘Shush. Probably best we wait. Let her volunteer.’

  I wanted to say, a problem shared … blah blah, and that we’re all to be trusted. From experience I knew people often wanted to talk about the things that were worrying them. Jeez, some of the things that my patients told me weren’t for the faint-hearted, some bent over where they’ve carried a burden for so long, so I’ve witnessed first-hand the relief and transformation some of them have gone through and, typically, that was when they found their best solutions.

  Having said that, I was as guilty as the next person, not confronting Will anymore about moving back to England or saying anything to Ginny about Mike. I hated hurting people unnecessarily. It wasn’t in my nature. The thing was, Will understood I wanted to be nearer to Avril and Mai, but I worried that if he was to discover that I want to help Ginny get through her grief, repay her for the help she’s given me in the past, it may create further tension between us. He would naturally feel I was putting Ginny before him. And telling Ginny about Mike, which I do have to face this week, would have so many possible damaging consequences for our friendship. Again, she would question my loyalty, and losing Ginny and all my friends would devastate me. Did that make me a hypocrite?

  Munching on a bean, Angie picked up her phone and swiped it. ‘It’s six-thirty-five,’ she said and ran her tongue over her teeth. ‘We should be getting ready to go out to dinner.’

  ‘With all that crunching I’m surprised you’re hungry, Ang. Let’s wait ’til Cathy’s finished,’ Lou said. ‘I don’t want to disturb her.’ She glanced over at the kitchen. ‘Why don’t we have a glass of wine? There’s still a bottle and a half on the breakfast bar. We can also decide where to go.’

  By half seven we were all glammed up and ready, having opted for Les Fougeres, another restaurant in the village. Despite make-up and her hair half-covering her face, I noticed Cathy’s bloodshot eyes, glaringly obvious evidence she had been crying, when she and Lou came down to the lounge last. I wasn’t sure if she had said anything to Lou, but we each smiled stiffly. The elephant in the room. Like me, were my friends masking their own problems in order to help Ginny through this week?

  I brushed Cathy’s shoulder. ‘You OK?’ I asked, feeling we were all being ridiculous. ‘Is Anthony all right?’

  Cathy forced a smile. ‘Yes. Absolutely fine. I’m famished though.’

  I sighed. Whatever it was, she wasn’t sharing. ‘Good, so am I and no doubt everyone else. Let’s go eat.’

  It was easy to smile back at Cathy but behind those eyes I detected sorrow and that widening of the lips didn’t convince me. Same as Lou earlier, hiding something. Instinctively I knew that she wasn’t prepared to tell me. Sometimes you just knew when your friends were circumventing. What were they afraid to admit? Me included. Why didn’t I have the faith to trust them with the secret I harboured? I looked over at Ginny cheerfully chatting to Ang, looking relaxed and happy, probably for the first time in months, possibly years. Was I going to risk destroying her recovery too, even before it had properly begun?

  Chapter 8

  Ginny

  Les Fougeres restaurant was busy, though not as rammed as La Poste the previous evening. But, like La Poste, the warmth and atmosphere were welcoming. Les Fougeres was a traditional-style chalet from the outside but sat happily with its more contemporary interior with larger windows and higher ceilings. As we shuffled in we received a brief wave and a smile from a barman standing at a renovated wood-panelled bar to our right with matching wooden tables and less cramped seating. Fewer benches, more chairs and a warm glow from a flickering fire.

  A tall lady with bright mahogany hair eyed us for several seconds before picking up a wad of padded leatherette menus from a restored tall dresser and approaching us. She appeared quite scary.

  ‘Bonsoir, Madam. Une table pour cinq personnes, s’il vous plaît?’ Lou said, ever the brazen one.

  ‘Ah, you English?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes, welcome. Come with me,’ she said clutching the menus with both hands and racing off with jumbo strides as she led us to a table. ‘What would you like to drink? The wine menu is on the table or I can get you beers or …’

  ‘Do you have Gamay?’ Angie asked.

  ‘Of course, we have Gamay,’ the woman said, gaping at us with a disgruntled expression that we should dare suggest she didn’t. ‘Five glasses?’

  ‘Yes please,’ I said. ‘And a carafe of water. Please.’

  ‘Yes. OK.’ She handed out the menus as abruptly as she spoke and then turned to the side and pointed to a chalkboard. ‘We have specials on the board there if you want more choice. The venison is favourite here. Sergio, my husband, does the best venison in the canton. You will not be disappointed,’ she said before strutting off to the bar.

  We gazed at one another and tittered quietly, and I felt a sense of relief because we had an excuse to speak again. I think we were all waiting for Cathy to break the silence on the walk down.

  ‘That’s a pretty bold statement. Poor Sergio, I wonder if he knows he does the best venison for miles around,’ Lou said dryly, which made us all cackle.

  ‘I imagine he’s afraid to argue with her,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe it’s all he’s good at!’ Angie added crumbling at her own joke but stirring up more laughter. Even from Cathy.

  Rubbing her hands, Cathy’s shoulders melted back into her chair. She picked up a menu. ‘I wonder if Sergio looks like Ken. An older version naturally. She reminds me of my old Barbie when I put cochineal in her hair – all legs and boobs.’

  Laughter echoed around the table.

  ‘Aw, I remember her. Yes, that hair,’ I squealed at Cathy, picturing the image of her childhood doll. ‘That poor Barbie doll, you were so mean. I was into Sindy. I had three, and a Paul. Remember Paul? My three Sindys had to share him. Seems sinister now, doesn’t it? God, we were so innocent.’

  Lou tapped my arm, her eyes gleaming. ‘Yes. What a great childhood though. I’m not sure girls have that now. We used to bring them over to yours, didn’t we? Cathy and me. We used to take them up to your bedroom, or in your playhouse. I remember leaving my Sindy in your playhouse. Penny, her name was. I couldn’t sleep all night worrying she would get cold or eaten by your dog. I had two Tressys, too. Do you remember the Tressy clothes? I loved the Tressy clothes. And the hair that grew, though never went back in! My blonde Tressy was called Debbie – and Barbara, no Barb, was my brunette.’

  Cathy smiled heartily. ‘Yes, what magical times we had with our Sindys and Tressys. My mother didn’t take to Barbie because she was American, but I bought one eventually, out of my own pocket money, just out of spite. She was the new posh girl in my class. I would always line her up with all my other dolls as one of my pupils, but she was my class monitor. She was so good, in fact, I got her a boyfriend. Ken.’

  ‘Sweet memories,’ Angie agreed. ‘I suppose I was with you in spirit even if I was living in Greenwich at the time. I only had Sindy and Tressy. Barbie didn’t have Sindy’s class. And I was out in the park most of the time. Probably too old to be seen playing with dollies by then.’

  ’I agree, Sindy had class and definitely my favourite,’ I said trying to remember when my parents bought Kim’s sister a Barbie for her ninth birthday. ‘But Barbie did become increasingly popular. Probably because of all the advertising and accessories we started to see on TV.’ I turned to Angie.
‘Would you have lost your street cred then, Ang?’

  Angie began. ‘Er, yeah! I’m two years older than you girls, don’t forget. I did an extra year at school to resit … my maths … so when I … Bonsoir, Christoff.’

  I cranked my head round to follow her gaze. I’d lost her attention as our ski instructor and two others marched in, followed closely by Neil, who looked straight at me and smiled. I felt a little flutter coiling in my stomach and smiled back, sure I was blushing. He was just being friendly, I realised, but was surprised that my body reacted as it did. The tall waitress returned, poised with her notebook

  I reopened the menu whilst the men took seats at the other end of our long table. ‘Anyway, we need to choose what we are having for dinner,’ I said, glad that Christoff was attracting the girls’ attention enough that they hadn’t noticed or commented on my blush. I scanned the menu. ‘Actually, I quite fancy the venison in the wild mushroom and truffle sauce, especially if it’s the best in the canton.’

  Angie and Cathy glanced at each other, sucking lemons in disgust.

  Lou and Kim agreed on the special venison whilst Cathy and Angie opted for a roast aubergine baked with Gorgonzola. I looked along the table where Angie was now shuffling up to Christoff whilst the other guys took their seats.

  ‘If you want a recommendation, the venison here is superb,’ Neil said as he took off his jacket and placed it on the back of his chair. I found myself staring as he pulled down a burgundy cashmere sweater over his dark navy jeans.

  ‘That’s good to hear. Thank you, we thought we’d try it,’ I said, feeling embarrassed again and reaching for my phone in my pocket. I switched on my roaming.

  Kim

  The tall woman took our order and I wasn’t sure if Ginny was still flustered and seeking distraction or was on Google looking at images of Sindy dolls, touched by the nostalgia of our conversation and talk of childhood days, like I was. I suspected the former, but when Ginny mentioned her Sindys I was immediately transported back to when she took me up to her bedroom that first day I arrived at her home. We were both eleven, but still enjoyed playing with dolls.