by Julie Howlin
After a hearty breakfast courtesy of Sophie and Emma, I set off with Rob to the ski school meeting point.
In the run up to this holiday, I’d had visions of him patiently teaching me how to ski and picking me up when I fell over, but apparently it doesn’t work like that - if you can’t ski, you go to ski school while the people who already know how to do it go off and have a good time without you. I was feeling rather nervous by now. What if I turned out to be utterly useless? I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or not to discover that Keith and Louise, the couple from the chalet, were in my class. I was grateful for the familiar faces but if I was going to turn out to be a complete dunce, I’d rather not have people I knew watching me and telling tales over dinner. Rob kissed me goodbye and went off with the Crest of the Wave Gang to seek out some ‘challenging blacks’.
Our instructor was called Marie-France, a petite, delicate looking brunette, whose diminutive stature belied an incredible stamina and strength. She made us limber up and then started to explain, in perfect English, the mechanics of the snow plough turn. I needn’t have worried about being useless. We were all pretty useless. Rob’s prediction that I’d spend more time on my arse than on my skis seemed pretty accurate. Keith and Louise turned out to be good fun and most of the time we spent on our arses was also spent laughing.
By the end of the second day we were all getting the idea. My body seemed to get the hang of what it was supposed to do and I made it to the bottom of the nursery slope without a single tumble. Marie-France decided we were therefore ready to make the ‘quantum leap up zee mountain’ and led us over to the chairlift.
Miraculously, I managed to get on and off this new contraption without falling over, which was progress on the first time I’d got on a button lift and assumed I was supposed to sit on it rather than just rest it between my legs. That had provided the group with five minutes of hilarious entertainment. I was pretty proud of myself when I was still on my feet after getting off the chair.
‘We ski down to the trees down there, you see?’ Marie-France indicated the spot with her pole. It looked like further than I had ever skied in one go without falling over. ‘Follow me!’
Here goes nothing, I thought and launched myself off after her. After nearly losing it on the first turn, I managed to stay upright - I don’t know how - and then found it was all coming together. Taking it carefully, I was starting to enjoy myself. I’m sure I heard Marie-France calling, ‘Go faster! Go faster!’
What harm could it do? I put on a bit of speed. I thought I heard a man’s voice behind me calling, ‘Yahoo! You’re doing great, Tabitha!’ I guessed Rob and the others must have caught up with us. That meant I needed to look good. Show off a bit. I was sure I could execute a very stylish turn and then another...
I would have pulled it off, I think, had it not been for that woman in black slacks and the quilted gold jacket with a fur hood who decided to cut me up. I tried to swerve to avoid her and toppled over. Then gravity kicked in and I was rolling. And rolling. And rolling. When I eventually came to a stop, I had snow in my boots, in my gloves, inside my jacket, in my hair, and in every bodily orifice that had been exposed to the elements. Both my skis had come off somewhere along the line, and with a sinking feeling I knew I would have to walk up the slope to get them back.
The woman who had caused the accident came to a perfect stop in front of me. She was laughing. There was no snow anywhere on her, I noticed. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, in English.
‘I think so,’ I said, feeling my legs and arms to make sure there were no bones sticking out. ‘I’m fine.’ No thanks to you, I added to myself. Then I tried to get up, and realised it wasn’t as easy as I’d expected. My nemesis shoved her poles into the soft snow, shuffled over and held out a hand to me. I took it, and only then got a proper look at her face. Alison bloody Harman. I’d made a total fool of myself in front of Alison bloody Harman. She was still laughing, too. I swear if I hadn’t dropped both poles on the way down I would have hit her with one.
As it was, I could only graciously accept her helping hand and wonder exactly why she brought out such ungracious feelings in me. Okay, so she could ski better than me, but so could Marie-France. So could Rob and most of the rest of the chalet, and I didn’t resent them for it. I’d been learning that falling over was all part of the fun and now, I’d have my very own wipe out story to tell at dinner. I wasn’t hurt, and she had stopped to help me up. I hardly knew the woman. What had she ever done except be around on a couple of occasions when I’d made a fool of myself? Oh, and give me a filthy look once. Which had been understandable, actually since I’d probably ruined her nice evening out with...
I was startled by the sound of a skier scraping to a stop beside me. I was relieved and grateful to see that he was carrying both my skis and poles. ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘That will save me a walk.’
‘You were doing very well for your first week on skis,’ he said.
I was about to ask him if it was really that obvious I was a beginner when I realised who he had to be. Alison was hardly likely to be skiing on her own. My suspicions were confirmed when he pushed off his hood and removed his goggles.
‘Jamie,’ I said, feeling even more embarrassed at having failed to show off. ‘I had no idea you were coming here. In fact, I’m not sure you even mentioned you were into skiing.’
‘Oh, I am,’ he said, with a grin. ‘Totally. Now, do you need some help getting your skis back on? I’ll catch you up, Ali.’ I could sense Alison was seething at having to leave Jamie with me. She couldn’t be jealous, surely? She was the one with the engagement ring on her finger, after all.
I thought putting skis back on would be easy, but for some reason the bindings wouldn’t catch. I was beginning to feel very silly. I’d managed to put the blasted things on every morning, and after lunch - why not now? ‘You’ve got ice on your boot,’ Jamie said, answering my question. ‘Here, let me scrape it off for you.’ He let me lean on him as he attacked the bottom of my boot with one of his poles and snapped my bindings back into place. ‘Now try,’ he said. It worked.
‘We’re staying at the Olympic Hotel,’ he said. ‘If you fancy joining us for some aprés ski one night, give me a call. I’ve got my mobile with me.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, feeling sure Alison would not be anything like as keen. It might be best to stay well away from them.
Jamie raised a ski pole in salute as he took off down the mountain after Alison. I picked my way carefully down to Marie-France and the others, and we made our way back down to the village. Keith and Louise decided they were brave enough to go back up and try the run one more time by themselves, but I decided I’d had enough for one day and made my way back to our chalet for a big slice of cake. I passed the Olympic Hotel, which looked very swanky, and wondered which room Jamie was in.
Then I looked up at the sky - it was darkening rapidly; a big, black cloud was hanging ominously overhead. I suddenly felt uneasy, and quickened my pace.
Back at the chalet, after hot chocolate, a shower, and a cuddle from Rob I was beginning to feel human again, but very tired. We lay down on the bed for a nap before dinner.
I sat up, quickly, feeling disorientated. It was dark - it had still been daylight when I’d closed my eyes, so I had no idea how long I’d been asleep, but I’d had a troubling dream. A man, wrapped up against the weather, with only his steely blue eyes visible, was getting into a cable car. He had a ski school voucher in one hand, and a ski instructor Mitzi Doll in the other. I woke with a start.
‘Something wrong?’ Rob asked sleepily.
‘Bad dream,’ I said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’ He rolled over and soon started to snore, but I lay looking at the cracks in the ceiling. Could the killer be actually here? That seemed far too coincidental - Jamie turning up in the same resort at the same time as us was freaky enough. The killer hadn't got nearly far enough down his list to be looking for a ski instructor just yet. I decided that I couldn't bo
ther Jamie on his holiday with a dream that had probably been triggered by some reaction to seeing him. Since one of my dreams had been so wrong that it had killed someone, I was no longer prepared to make a fool of myself because of one.
I glanced at my bedside clock and saw that it was eight o'clock. Time for dinner. I woke Rob and we went downstairs. After another slap up meal, wine and conversation, I'd completely forgotten my dream.
**
Everyone wanted to go to the Underground bar where there was live music. I went along with them. I still had an uneasy feeling, foreboding, like something was going to happen. When I mentioned this to Rob, he ruffled my hair. ‘Sounds like you're still a bit shaken from that fall you had. What you need is a few cocktails inside you.’ I hoped he was right.
The feeling wouldn’t go away. The bar was busy, and the Crest of the Wave Gang were in full flow with stories about people freezing to death on chairlifts and falling down crevasses.
I noticed Marie-France at the bar, talking to a dark-haired man in black jeans and an Aran sweater. There was a bottle of wine between them. I noticed the man filling her glass several times. I also noticed that he only poured a tiny drop for himself. She’s going to be hung-over in the morning, I thought, and turned back to my group.
‘Pretty shit hot skis you've got, Rob,’ one of the gang was saying. ‘And that suit. Must have cost you a fortune.’ Rob just shrugged and bought another round.
Rob was my boss, and he earned a lot more than I did, but all the same, I’d noticed how he always seemed to be throwing money around - even a manager’s salary at a two bit company like wegotanythingyouwant.co.uk couldn’t be that good. We were in a five star chalet - he had not let me pay for anything, not the holiday, not the ski hire, lift passes, not even lunch or a drink. And it wasn’t just this holiday. Rob seemed in his element talking about surfing in Hawaii, sailing in the Greek Islands, a safari in Africa, Christmas shopping in New York. How did he afford it all? Not to mention his huge high definition TV, all that gym equipment and fabulous hi-fi he had at home. He must have some other source of income, I decided. No doubt it would all become clear when I’d been dating him a bit longer. In the meantime, I should just enjoy it.
I sipped my drink and listened to the music, smiling to myself. I was on a skiing holiday, with a rich and indulgent boyfriend. Life was great, actually, so why was I thinking something was wrong? It was too good to be true. All this couldn’t possibly be happening to unlucky in love, ordinary, always two hundred pounds overdrawn Tabitha Drake. I’d better make the most of it, because soon I’d wake up in my dingy flat and realise I’d dreamed the whole thing.
When we left the bar, it was snowing. Rob and I walked hand in hand with our tongues out, catching the thick flakes as they fell, laughing. It was like paradise. Except for the nagging feeling I was getting that it really was too good to be true. That feeling would not go away.
33 lost in france
Next morning, I set out with Keith and Louise for another day’s ski school, having been told by the others that the overnight snowfall meant it would be fantastic up there today. We waited at the meeting point for Marie-France.
‘She’s a bit late this morning,’ Keith remarked, tapping his watch. ‘Five minutes.’
‘Bit hung-over after last night, I expect,’ said Brian, another of our classmates. ‘She was having a good time in the Underground, getting it on with some bloke. It’s usually the women who get off with their ski instructors, not the guys.’
After ten minutes, all the other classes were gone, but there was still no sign of our teacher. Brian and Keith went to ask at the office what was happening. They came back with bad news. ‘She hasn’t showed up for work,’ said Keith. ‘She’s not phoned in, and they don’t have any spare instructors. Looks like we’re on our own today.’
We all agreed we could probably manage the last run from yesterday by ourselves. We decided we'd try and criticise each other’s technique as best we could. I figured I’d be okay. Jamie and Alison Harman would have gone elsewhere today and wouldn’t be there to put me off.
I really enjoyed the day. I had a few falls, nothing serious. In fact, today I was the one who decided to go up one more time when everyone else decided to give up.
Sitting on the lift on my own, with nobody to talk to, my dream came back to me. What if something had happened to Marie-France? I shivered. We'd all assumed she was only hung-over, but what if... Perhaps I should have told someone about my dream. I should have called Jamie.
When I got off the lift the light was fading fast. The clouds were gathering again, preparing to dump more snow. As I prepared to set off, I realised there were very few people around and there was quite an eerie quality to the fading sunlight. I shivered, and it was not entirely down to the cold.
‘You are ready?’ I turned and saw Marie-France, leaning on her poles and watching me, as she always did. She was fine. No need to worry.
‘Where were you today?’ I asked.
She ignored my question. ‘Follow me down, yes? A deeferent way. I show you.’
I shrugged. ‘Okay,’ I said. Why she hadn't been at work wasn't any of my business, but I couldn’t help wondering why she’d appeared and started coaching me so late in the day.
She set off, at not too fast a pace, doing the long, lazy turns she always did, pausing to look back and make sure I was following.
I set off, trying to follow her tracks as closely as I could. Snow was falling now and it was as if the whole world was muffled. We came to a familiar fork in the piste. Normally, we took the right-hand path which led back to the village, but Marie-France set off to the left. ‘Does this way get us back to La Tania?’ I called. I wasn’t at all sure it did, and I knew the lifts were closing soon. It might be a long walk back. Marie-France didn’t reply, but motioned for me to follow. She was a ski instructor, I reasoned. She must know where she was going. It got darker and darker, and the snow got thicker. I could barely see Marie-France ahead of me. She kept stopping and letting me catch up. We were going further and further away from the village, we’d got to the point where there was no lift back up. Not knowing how to get back from here, I knew I had better not lose her.
Suddenly I looked and she had vanished. I couldn’t see her at all. I tried not to panic. All I had to do was keep following her tracks. I skied up to the point where I had seen her last, and looked for them. The snow was falling so fast that I could not see where Marie-France had gone. Her tracks had already vanished in the falling snow.
‘MARIE-FRANCE!’ I yelled. ‘WAIT!’ My voice echoed around me, but otherwise everything was silent. Through the flurries of snow, I could make out the piste ahead. If Marie-France was ahead of me I should be able to see her, but the piste was deserted. She must have gone into the trees - I pushed off towards them.
It wasn’t easy, trying to make my way through thick, unpisted snow drifts. My progress was very slow. I fell twice and struggled to get up. Had Marie-France gone completely crazy, leading me into conditions completely unsuited to a beginner? Where was she? I was cold and wet and very frightened. And very lost. I wondered if I would survive the night out here.
I kept moving, tears running down my face. Now I’d lost Marie-France, I had no way of knowing if I was going the right way. Then I saw a patch of red in the snow ahead, with a luminous strip - the ski school uniform. It looked as if Marie-France had fallen. I almost cried with relief at having found her, but my relief soon evaporated. She wasn’t moving - she hadn’t got up, which meant she must be injured, so I was going to have to get down somehow by myself and get help.
‘Marie-France?’ I called. ‘Are you hurt?’
I pushed myself towards her with my poles. My skis took off as I hit an incline I hadn’t seen, and I collided with the huddled form of Marie-France on the ground, falling on top of her. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Are you okay?’ She didn’t answer. She just lay there, staring at me. A lot of snow had fallen on Marie-France in a short tim
e which seemed odd to me, as it was sheltered here under the trees.
‘Have you hurt your leg?’ I asked, turning to inspect her lower body to see if I could work out how badly hurt she was. Then I noticed she was not wearing her skis. Or even her ski boots. She was wearing street boots. For a second this puzzled me. I looked at her face properly and it was suddenly all too obvious. I touched her skin just to be sure. It was as cold as ice. Nestled in the snow beside her was a ski instructor Mitzi Doll with no head.
I struggled to my feet in terror. I was alone with a dead body in a silent French forest, miles from the chalet, in the dark. I had absolutely no idea how to get back to the village. I fumbled in my pockets and found my phone. I wondered how I was going to explain to Rob how to find me when I had no idea where I was. Looking at the phone, it all became academic, anyway - no signal.
Desperately, I looked around for Marie-France's spirit. She'd led me here - now she could lead me home. Nothing. ‘Marie-France!’ I yelled. ‘Please come back! I'm lost! I promise I'll tell someone you're here - but I'm no good to you if I freeze to death out here!’
I had a horrible thought. A killer returning to the scene of his crime. What if he was here now, watching me? He'd kill me, too, rather than let me get back to the village and raise the alarm.
Don’t be silly, I told myself. He dumped her here last night and went away. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to hang around here in the cold, would he? Perhaps if I get back on the piste, my phone will work. I can call Rob and get help.