by Karen Swan
He was silent. She knew he was right. She thought back to Alex and Isabella and how she’d imagined their arguments to be passionate and exciting. But this just felt soul-destroying.
‘Jack, what is it? What’s wrong?’ she sighed. ‘You’ve been off with me for days.’
‘Nothing.’ There was a long pause. ‘I . . . Look, I’m tired and you’re drunk. I’ll speak to you tomorrow when we’re both feeling better.’
‘Okay,’ she replied quietly.
‘Night,’ he said curtly.
She pressed ‘disconnect’, feeling frustrated, smaller and less blonde again.
The doors on the balcony below her slid open and she saw everyone pile on to the terrace, laughing and shrieking as they kicked off a midnight snowball fight. They were always playing, this group, always finding fun and the lighter side of life. She felt ten years younger when she was with them all. Laura watched unseen above them, her eyes on Alex’s back as he aimed a perfect hit at Orlando’s head. She watched the way Rob crept up behind Cat, snaking his arms around her slender waist as he planted a surprise kiss on her neck that didn’t have quite the desired effect and made her leap away. She watched as David grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it down the back of Sam’s dress, making her howl with rage.
Laura stayed where she was. She felt the pull to go down there and join them, but she knew that was exactly why she shouldn’t. Speaking to Jack had been the reminder she needed. She had given herself a day out from her own life, but that was all it could be. Nothing more. She wasn’t like any of them, no matter how much she might wish it to be true. She might be staying in a multi-million-pound chalet, but playfulness was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The music was on max by the time she reappeared fifteen minutes later – loud, thumping dance tunes that were more redolent of Ibiza in August than Verbier in December.
‘Where’ve you been?’ Kitty asked her as she jived to David Guetta, heaving her very ample bosom up and down.
‘Sorry. I was talking to Jack.’ She smiled, taking in the parcels that had been put on to the coffee table, all in the same-sized boxes and wrapped in identical paper. Sam had been adamant that anonymity must be preserved, and Laura, for one, had been more than happy to stick by that rule. She didn’t want Sam to know that she was her Secret Santa.
‘Right,’ Kitty said, motioning at everyone to come over so she could read the names on them – written in capitals to disguise handwriting – and dole them out.
‘Okay, we’ll open in a clockwise direction,’ Sam ordered.
‘Not that you’re OCD or anything,’ David joked, earning himself a slap on the arm.
‘Isabella, you go first,’ she went on.
Laura looked to her left, watching Isabella gasp and pull out a tiny red mesh thong that she twirled on her fingers, one eye arched suggestively at Alex. Laura looked away, knowing Isabella was beginning the first tentative moves towards rapprochement and suspecting she’d probably hear them through the walls later.
‘Good God!’ Kitty exclaimed, shocked. ‘That would fit my daughter’s Barbie!’
David was next, pulling out a glow-in-the-dark cock-ring. ‘Uh . . . uh . . .’ he stammered, blushing beetroot as Sam grabbed it in hysterics, crying, ‘Oh no, it’s far too big!’
Orlando opened his with trepidation, but he needn’t have worried. Inside was a vintage collection of VHS fitness videos by Jane Fonda, Elle Macpherson and Cindy Crawford. He clutched them delightedly to his chest. ‘You guys . . .’ he beamed.
‘Kitty, your go,’ Alex said, sitting on the arm of the sofa.
Kitty took a deep breath.
‘You don’t have to inflate the box, Kits,’ Sam said, making Kitty instantly splutter and blow the air back out again.
She pulled out a big red cape with a distinctive ‘S’ logo on it. ‘Superman?’ she said, puzzled, putting it on over her dress.
‘Or Supermum,’ David suggested, giving away his identity and earning himself, this time, a big lipsticky kiss on the cheek.
‘Who’s next? Right, Rob, your go,’ Orlando said, picking up the MC duties.
Rob raised an eyebrow as he opened his, obviously worried that he too was going to find something that glowed in the dark. ‘A magnum of Moët? This did not cost less than five euros!’
‘But you’re such a generous host,’ Kitty blurted out before slapping her hand over her mouth and shooting a frightened look at Sam.
Rob laughed, leaning over and giving her a big hug. Kitty wrapped her arms around his neck tightly and patted his back fondly.
‘Ugh! You lot are bloody useless!’ Sam shouted. ‘That’s two of you who’ve messed up now! What’s the point of me putting all these rules in place if—’
‘Shut up and open your present, dear,’ David said calmly, eliciting a titter of giggles.
Sam rolled her eyes dramatically and started opening her box. ‘So long as it goes, “Glug.”’
Laura held herself dead still, scared to do anything at all that might give her away, such as breathing, blinking . . . Sam pulled out a battered copy of the book How to Win Friends and Influence People. Sam did not smile. ‘Who in this room thinks I can’t be charming?’ she demanded in an ominously quiet voice. ‘I am perfectly charming. Totally. Never a problem making friends. Never.’
‘I think it’s supposed to be ironic,’ David said in a placating tone.
‘I think it could well be meant to be instructive, actually,’ Alex chipped in.
‘Was it you?’ Sam gasped, glaring at him, but Alex just held his hands up. Laura had a feeling he’d bought the red thong.
‘You’re the one insisting on this being a classified exercise, darling,’ David riposted with infuriating calm.
‘Alex, your turn,’ Isabella said, smiling sweetly. She was definitely on the path to forgiveness – whatever it was she had to forgive.
Alex’s face fell as he pulled out a silver-plated golf tee. ‘Oh! It’s, er . . . it’s very . . . Wanna swap, David?’
‘Absolutely!’ David cried, almost throwing the luminous aberration at him. ‘What a result!’
‘Indeed,’ Alex grinned.
‘See? I wasn’t lying,’ Sam drawled. ‘He knew it wouldn’t fit eith—’ But before she could finish, David had walked over to her and pulled her back by the hair, silencing her with a kiss that made everyone fall silent. Even Alex, who was getting ready to strut around like Cock o’ the North. Maybe he and Isabella didn’t have the monopoly on passion after all.
‘Who’s . . . who’s left?’ Kitty asked, fanning herself with the edge of her cape, no doubt shocked to have glimpsed that side of David. Everyone looked around, counting heads.
‘Oh, Laura,’ Orlando said.
Hesitantly, Laura opened hers, hoping to God her Santa hadn’t found the same shop as David’s and bought tassels or something. A hush descended as she peered in.
An envelope was lying inside. She opened it. What could it be? A book token? An iTunes voucher?
‘FWQ one-event licence,’ she read out, her eyes instantly meeting Rob’s. He was the only one here who knew. And Mark had told him at lunchtime. There’d been plenty of opportunity for him to buy it for tonight. Plus it cost bang on five euros.
‘What’s that?’ Kitty asked, baffled.
‘Freeride World Qualifier,’ Laura sighed. Now they would all know. ‘It’s a joke.’
‘Is it?’ Rob challenged. ‘Or maybe it’s a dare.’
Laura’s eyes flashed at his words.
‘I still don’t get it,’ Kitty whispered to Orlando.
‘Freeriding is extreme off-piste skiing,’ Laura explained. ‘You basically walk up a mountain and push yourself off. There’s a start gate at the top and a finish gate at the bottom. You make up the bit in between yourself.’
‘Oh well, I’ll join you tomorrow morning, then,’ Sam muttered sarcastically.
‘The closing tournament’s in Verbier on the twenty-
eighth of March,’ Rob said provocatively. ‘It’ll go to France and Russia before coming here for the finals.’
‘I don’t know why we bothered making this secret!’ Sam spluttered crossly. ‘I mean, the lot of you are useless.’
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like it?’ Laura said, holding the licence out to Rob and ignoring Sam completely.
‘I’m not good enough. Besides, it’s got your name on it,’ he shrugged. Laura looked at it. Sure enough, it had.
She pocketed it silently, wanting the subject dropped. Any second now the others were all going to start asking about the full extent of her skiing experience. Extreme off-piste, Laura? She could feel Rob was watching her and was itching to tell her story for her.
‘Is it my turn?’ Cat asked, and all eyes swivelled back to her, their default resting place.
She opened her box delicately. ‘Oh! I haven’t seen one of these for years.’ She pulled out an old second-hand Polaroid camera. ‘Who bought me this?’
‘No! Don’t say a fucking word!’ Sam hollered, pointing at them all accusingly. ‘Any of you.’
Everyone shook their heads. They wouldn’t dare.
‘Come on, let’s dance,’ Orlando said, putting down his DVDs and shuffling through the Spotify playlist to Pixie Lott. ‘I want all you girls in a line. I am going to show you some moves to follow.’
‘This is a party, not a Zumba class, Orly,’ Cat scolded lightly, but Orlando just picked her up and spun her round, causing her to flash a glimpse of champagne La Perla.
‘You girls shall be my backing dancers,’ he said.
‘Just a sec, Orlando,’ Rob interrupted, taking Laura by the elbow and leading her away from the line. ‘I wanted to run something by you. While you were upstairs I booked the helicopter for two hours tomorrow morning. Seven o’clock. I want to do the north face of Petit Combin. I’ve never done it before. It’s rocky in parts and pretty dangerous.’ He looked at her intently. ‘I want you to come with me. No one else has the experience.’
‘You’re mad!’ she exclaimed punchily.
‘Probably.’
‘I’m here to work, Rob. You have flown me out here to interview your friends, not—’
‘Yes, but that was before I knew you can ski like a ninja.’
‘Do they ski?’ she asked, puzzled.
Rob burst out laughing, a sudden unexpected sound that made her shiver and she felt an urge to brush her palm over his stubbly cheeks. She knew she shouldn’t have done that party trick and necked that beer. ‘No idea!’ he grinned.
‘What makes you think I want to spend my Sunday morning bombing down a treacherous cliff where I could be killed by an avalanche or fall off a rock face at any—?’ But before she’d even finished the sentence, the gleam in her eyes matched his.
He grinned at her devilishly. ‘I know. It sounds good, doesn’t it?’
Chapter Twenty-Three
The clouds had fallen to earth during the night, blanketing the ground with another half-foot of snow and leaving the sky a clear, rinsed blue. Laura winced as the sub-zero temperatures hit her sleep-coddled body, still rosy from sleep. Rob helped the driver attach their skis to the car roof.
Everyone else was still sleeping, of course. The party the previous night had gone on till four, with Orlando hosting dance-offs all night. Cat, it transpired, moved like Beyoncé with silky hips and shimmying shoulders. Kitty appeared to specialize in ska; Isabella had a Shakira hip action that had practically hypnotized the boys; Sam seemed to be more influenced by Jessie J – all foot stomps and fierce faces. Alex had showed off his breakdancing skills, including a terrifying-looking head-spin that made a mess of his beautiful hair. Laura had laughed like a drain when he’d gone into the ‘worm’. What looked cool in an underground car park with a pack of teenagers looked somewhat ridiculous among a bunch of thirty-somethings in black tie. She’d stopped laughing pretty abruptly, though, when Alex had caught her eye and thrown her a look of such simmering intensity she had thought he was going to chase her up the stairs there and then.
Laura climbed into the car and turned on the heated seats, blowing on her hands. She watched Rob packing the rest of the kit – a rucksack with emergency supplies, poles, boots . . . She could see from the way he moved how excited he was – his body was taut and moving rapidly, already on high alert. The adrenalin was pumping through him – that and last night’s vodka.
‘Let’s go,’ he said with bright eyes, sliding into the seat beside her.
Strange, she thought, how they’d gone from being stiff and formal with each other in their business relationship to provocatively daring in a social one.
The car purred up the drive (well, as much as a car can purr with snow chains on) and they left their exhausted, toxic housemates behind them as they fed into the virgin snows. Only the snow-packers were about, orange lights flashing, as they bashed and compacted the fresh falls. They were pulling up at the heliport within eight minutes.
Laura looked at the helicopter sitting in its circle, the pilot inside running through his tests. She felt a stab of fear as she realized the enormity of what they were about to do: attack one of the most notorious mountain faces in the region on two and a half hours’ sleep and a hangover. Usually she couldn’t even do the laundry on a hangover. She looked over at Rob as he shook hands with the pilot. He’d been as half cut as everyone else last night, although that had only been apparent by how he hadn’t behaved. Unlike the others, who stumbled over their own feet (David) or slurred their words (Orlando, disintegrating into an appalling Italian-English hybrid language that was as undecipherable to Isabella as to the others), Rob had been given away only by the brightness in his eyes and an unrestrained vigour that wasn’t characteristic of his usual reserved manner. Out of his suit, out here, he was an entirely different man: an adrenalin junkie, an athlete pushing himself to his limits.
She fastened her helmet as Rob waved to her from the helicopter to climb in. The blades were starting up and she had to crouch low to run past. He buckled her into her seat with a speedy ease – betraying just how much this wasn’t his first time in one of these – before sitting opposite her, staring at her intently. He was as finely tuned this morning as a Ferrari.
She tensed as the helicopter lifted up, pushing her head back against the seat for a moment before daring to turn and look out. Verbier shrank before her, iced and pristine like a Christmas cake.
‘So, how do you want to do this?’ Rob shouted across at her.
‘Do what?’
‘Get out of this thing.’ He gestured to the helicopter they were sitting in.
‘Through the doors, please. Not the ejector seat,’ she shouted back.
He laughed, so thoroughly amused that she started giggling too.
He leaned in towards her and she met him halfway. There was a gleam in his eyes and it thrilled her to think she had put it there. ‘I mean, do you want us to land first? Or do you want to hit the ground skiing?’ he asked.
Laura looked into those copper eyes. She could see what he wanted her to say. He thought he’d found a kindred spirit in her – someone whose skill could match his appetite. ‘I don’t think I can jump, Rob.’
‘I think you can. I think you just don’t want to.’ His voice was velvety, coaxing her on.
‘Okay, I don’t want to, then. I’m worried enough about my survival as it is.’
‘I wouldn’t have suggested it if I thought it would put you in danger.’ He smiled and took her hand in his. ‘I’ll look after you, Laura. I promise.’
Laura stared at him. Rightly or wrongly, she trusted him. She nodded.
Rob gave a thumbs-up sign to the pilot and slid her skis over to her. She fastened her boots with shaking hands.
‘Can you carry one of these?’ he asked, holding up a small black rucksack.
Laura nodded, slid her arms through the straps and checked the chinstrap on her helmet.
‘Okay, do you want to go first, or shall I?’ he ask
ed, placing a hand on her arm. Laura hoped he couldn’t feel her quaking with fear through her jacket. It was official. She was clinically insane. She had thought it was bad enough to be off-pisting one of the most extreme faces in the Alps on two and a half hours’ sleep; now she had gone and made the scenario so much worse by agreeing to jump out of a helicopter first! What was wrong with her? What would Jack say? Actually, she didn’t want to think about it. Not right now. What she was about to do was so far removed from the Laura he knew and loved, he simply wouldn’t believe it.
‘You first. I’ll follow.’
‘Okay,’ he nodded as the helicopter began to drop height, circling over a shallow plain just below the rocky outcrop of the summit.
Rob slid open the door and straightened himself up. Getting ready to go.
‘Wait!’ Laura clamped a hand on his arm suddenly, struggling against the icy winds, which broke over her like waves. ‘Don’t we . . . don’t we need a guide or something? I mean, how will we find our way down from here?’ she gabbled, panicking.
He slid back into the helicopter. ‘I’ve been coming here since I was three. I know these mountains better than most of the guides. I pay a discretionary premium not to have one come with us. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.’
‘But . . . but what if there’s an avalanche?’
‘There’s an avalanche probe in your backpack.’ He shrugged. ‘Or just ski faster.’
‘Ski f—?’
He put both his hands on her arms, squeezing her and looking straight into her eyes. ‘Trust me.’
She nodded dumbly.
‘Count to three after I go, then jump. Okay?’
He winked at her, turned away and in the next instant was gone. Just like that. Laura gasped as she watched him land a second later, perfectly balanced, easing straight into wide, meandering S-bends, keeping his speed down as he waited for her and looking back to check that she actually was going to follow him out.