Secrets in the Snow, Volume 1: Early season stories from the White Cairns Ski School drama series

by Roz Marshall

  "Callum's a given," he started, "and Simon would be choice, he's so versatile, even if he is a bit of a space cadet."

  "Who else?" she prompted, popping a small piece of sandwich in her mouth.

  "Zoë would be a safe choice as a boarder; for the skiers, Ben is the best, though his teaching will need some work. So that leaves us needing one boarder if you count Simon as a skier, or vice versa."

  She nodded slowly. "We could look at it another way — who's the best of the rest?"

  "Probably Debbie for skiing, rather than Pamela, as I think she'd fit better in the team, although she's not as good a skier as some of the others." He shrugged. "There's not a lot to choose between Colin and Marty, they've both got their good and bad points."

  "I liked Marty a bit better. Colin seemed a little, erm…" she gestured with a piece of sandwich, grasping for the right word, "pretentious. So, Debbie or Marty, that's our choice?"

  "Debbie seems to really want the job."

  She smiled. "Yeah, but Marty is so cool he'd never show it even if he was desperate."

  He smiled back. "True!"

  She took a bite of her sandwich. Debbie or Marty? Marty or Debbie? Unconsciously, she waved the sandwich left to right, right to left as she mused.

  -::-

  "So we've got seven out of our eight. Callum, Simon, Zoë and Ben plus you, Sandy and Fiona."

  "Yeah, Fiona said they had eight last year."

  "They had eight last year," she repeated. Paused. "Last year. But last year isn't this year." She looked across at him. "I didn't have time to tell you — I bumped into one of the teachers from Beechfields, a local private school. They're looking for someone to supply ski lessons this season. If I can win their business, we'll need more instructors."

  "Choice! Or if not that school, I guess we might be able to drum up some business from other schools?"

  She pursed her lips and made her decision. "Let's take both of them, then." There was a loud laugh from across the room, and she looked over. Colin. Her face fell. "But I'll need to break the news to Colin and Pamela."

  "Don't worry, I'll do that."

  She shook her head. Was being a boss always this hard? She hated confrontation, but it wasn't fair to expect someone else to do it. "No, it's my decision, and my responsibility to tell them."

  He looked at his watch. "We're a bit tight for time, though." He turned those blue eyes on her again. "How about we do one each, that would be quicker?"

  "Hmmm," she paused, still worrying that she was shirking her obligations. His logic was hard to resist though. "Well, okay, thank you. Shall I tell Pamela, then, and you can speak to Colin?"

  "Okay," he nodded, "I'll do it now."

  -::-

  Jude stood up and poured two cups of coffee at the catering table. She felt butterflies in her stomach. How ridiculous, being nervous about talking to another human being. But she'd never done something like this before; she hoped she could find the right words.

  Pamela was sitting on her own, reading a book. Jude went over and motioned at the next seat, "Mind if I sit here?" Out of the corner of her eye she could see Mike speaking to Colin, who just shrugged and walked off. That seemed painless.

  Pamela grunted in reply, and closed her book. Jude offered her the spare coffee. "I brought you a coffee," she said, unnecessarily.

  "What's this, the softly-softly approach?"

  Jude was taken aback by the girl's belligerent attitude. "Well, erm, I wanted to have a word with you." She put the spare cup on the empty seat behind them.

  "I've not got the job, have I?"

  Pamela's perception was making her task easier in some ways. But she'd wanted to try and break it gently, offer some constructive feedback. That was going to be hard now, the girl would just think she was trying to sugar-coat it. "Well, no, I'm sorry. As you know, we only had a limited number of places, and I'm sorry, but..."

  "No need for platitudes," Pamela interrupted, "I get the picture." She stuffed her book into her rucksack, grabbed her jacket and swung the rucksack over her shoulder as she stood up. But as she turned, the rucksack caught the chair behind her and toppled it over, knocking the cup of coffee to the carpet with a crash.

  The sudden silence was like someone had hit the 'mute' button for the room. Everyone stared open-mouthed as Pamela stomped out of the room, grabbing her ski bag from the pile at the side as she went, and yanking the door shut behind her.

  They all looked from the closed door to the upturned chair, and Jude sitting shell-shocked beside it.

  Jude felt a flush start to move up her neck, and put a hand to her throat, wondering whether she could get away with making a bolt for the door as well.

  -::-

  Debbie was first to react. Her cheeks had flamed bright pink, as if it were she who'd been embarrassed, not Jude, but she quietly righted the overturned chair and picked up the cup and saucer, then whispered to Jude, "I do things like that all the time!”

  Jude mouthed her thanks and smiled at the girl, suddenly glad they’d decided to give her a chance. She was relieved that Mike had already spoken to Colin — Pamela's reaction would have ruined any chance of telling the boy confidentially. But, looking on the bright side, it seemed to validate the decision not to hire Pamela — she didn't want difficult people on their staff.

  She was still trying to work out what to do next when the door crept open. Surely Pamela hasn't come back?

  However, the head that inched round the door was decidedly male. "Ah," he said, "I have got the right place." He came properly into the room, and she saw gelled brown hair and rimless glasses above a ski patrol jacket. Of course! Forbes had said he was going to send someone over to do the safety talk.

  She stood up. "You must be Doug?"

  "Yes." He brandished a sheaf of papers, and was about to say something else when he was interrupted by Callum.

  "Doug! How the hell are you?" His forehead creased as he noticed the uniform. "Working for Ski Patrol?"

  Doug looked surprised to see Callum. "Obviously," he said, motioning at the logo on his jacket.

  "That's lucky, after failing your Grade Three." He raised an eyebrow, but didn't smile. "Well done for that!"

  Behind them, Jude saw the door starting to open again.

  Doug's eyes narrowed, "Thanks," he replied through his teeth, lifting a hand to adjust his glasses. Then he turned to Jude. "Mrs Winters?"

  "Thanks for coming," she motioned him over to the table at the front. "We're ready for you now, I think, if you just want to start?"

  Over his shoulder, she noticed that Forbes had come in, and raised a hand in greeting.

  Sunday 11th December

  THE PHONE STARTED ringing in the hall, and Jude excused herself to go and answer it.

  She was feeling light-hearted and happy — her idea of inviting the instructor team round for an informal dinner seemed to have been a great success. As they'd only met yesterday, they were still getting to know each other, but everyone seemed to be getting on well, laughing at Callum's jokes, drinking too much wine and filling up on the big pot of curry that she'd made.

  She was stifling a yawn when she picked up the phone. Late nights working on ski school proposals didn't agree with her. Hopefully she wouldn't have to do that too often. "Hello, Jude speaking."

  There was a static-filled gap, then, "Jude! Judykins! How's my best girl?"

  Allan! Finally he'd phoned! "Allan! It's so good to hear from you! How are you? Where are you? I've been so worried!"

  "Oh, eh," he expelled some breath, "some shanty town in the back country — I'm not even sure what it's called. Don't you worry your pretty little head, though, we'll be back in Queenstown in a couple of weeks." He laughed, "I've been running round like a blue wotsit, working my backside off, hardly a moment to myself. It's been manic!"

  "That's erm, great?" Was that the right response? "We've missed you here, though."

  "Hah! I bet you've been having a party without me! No hubby looking
over your shoulder the whole time, checking up on you — you've probably been spending the whole day in your PJs, watching daytime TV and eating biscuits!"

  "No," she started to reply, but he steamrollered over what she was going to say.

  "Where's my Lucykins? Is she missing her daddy? Let me speak to my baby!"

  Silently, she rolled her eyes, and refrained from reminding him that at thirteen, Lucy was hardly a baby any longer. Then she grimaced, guiltily. Just as well it’s not a video phone. "I'll just get her." She put her hand over the mouthpiece and shouted, "Lucy! That's your dad on the phone."

  "Allan, before Lucy gets here, can I just ask — the bank statement came in the other day, and we're overdrawn. It's good to hear that you've been busy working. Have you been able to deposit any money? We're due an oil delivery soon and an insurance notification thing came in as well."

  "Ah, Judy, Judy, Jude, you know you're no good with money, just leave it to me, I'll get it sorted." He switched subjects, "Oh — and did I tell you? I've got some more work here, for the summer — good work — as a wilderness guide at Coronet Peak. So you'll be able to watch daytime TV all winter, as well! Wish I could be a lady of leisure, but some of us have to work for a living!" Summer in New Zealand was winter-time in Scotland. Most seasonaire skiers lived in permanent winter, working in Europe from December to May, then decamping to the southern hemisphere and the ski resorts of Australia or New Zealand for their winter season, before returning to Europe at the end of the year. Trust Allan to be different!

  "But, what about the ski school?" she started to say, when Lucy came charging through, squealing with delight. "Oh, here's Lucy — I'll speak to you after." She handed the phone to Lucy, whispering, "Let me speak to him when you're finished!"

  Lucy nodded as she took the phone. "Dad! I've missed you so much!"

  Jude walked to the end of the hall in a bit of a daze. He would be away all winter? She'd thought she'd only have to run the ski school for a few weeks. How will I manage on my own? She opened the back door and let herself out into the garden.

  -::-

  In the living room, bodies were sprawled on every available seat and cushion, faces flushed by the warmth of the log fire and the effects of the wine. Zoë was busy collecting empty plates and taking them through to the kitchen, whilst Mike stood at the sideboard, topping up glasses. They were discussing what they'd been doing before they came to White Cairns.

  Zoë spluttered at Debbie's answer, "You're a cleaner?" She turned to the others. "Have you seen the state of our room? After just a day!" After the hiring clinic, most of the instructors had banded together and rented a large house down near the station, but they were having to share rooms.

  Debbie looked embarrassed, and Callum suggested, "Perhaps it's a case of 'cobbler's children'?" He raised an eyebrow and turned to Zoë. "What about you, Posh Spice?"

  He thought Zoë looked a bit uneasy as she replied, "Oh, er, I don't work. I'm on a gap year." She picked up some more plates. "But I've been offered a job in the city. I might do that rather than uni."

  "I work in London," interjected Simon. They all turned to look at him.

  Callum was surprised that he could even hold down a proper job. "What d'you do there?" he asked. “A ‘Mr Spock’ tribute act?”

  Simon ignored the Star Trek jibe and shrugged, "Programming. Contracts."

  "There's good money in IT," said Mike.

  "What about you, MC?" Callum asked, "How come a Grade One is free to work at short notice in the back of beyond, when there's not even any snow?"

  Mike raised his eyebrows, and Callum wondered if he'd been too blunt, as usual. "Oh," Mike rubbed his chin, "I've been bumming my way around the world; Scotland was somewhere I hadn't skied yet."

  Debbie asked, "But how does a ski instructor make enough money to travel the world?" Then, as if she realised how cheeky that sounded, she added, "We don't get paid that much!"

  "Yes, but what you don't realise, my dear, is that Grade Ones get paid much more than us mere mortals," Sandy explained. "Some of us have to work all summer making cooked breakfasts and cleaning bathrooms just to make ends meet."

  Debbie wrinkled her nose, "Oh yeah, the B and B!" She turned to Ben, who was sitting next to her. "And Ben, you've just retired from racing, is that right?"

  Ben nodded. "I'm gonna try and get qualified to teach." He winked at her, "Maybe I'll be a Grade One someday!"

  "Cool," said Debbie, smiling back at him, then turned to Marty. "What about you, Marty?"

  "I teach part-time at Bearsden Dry Slope in Glasgow." Callum was surprised to see Marty colour slightly as he added, "And, um, I'm trying to get my portfolio together for modelling."

  "Wow!" said Debbie, her eyes widening, but there were some guffaws and cat-calls from the rest of the room.

  Callum saw Mike glance out of the window with a slight frown, then turn and start walking towards the door as he said over the laughter, "Callum, I think the only one we've not heard from is you?"

  Callum grinned, "Oh, I don't do anything exciting,” he raised an eyebrow, “I’m a cubicle chimp at a call centre." With the reaction Marty's revelation had just received, he certainly wasn't about to tell the whole truth.

  -::-

  Outside, the sky was the navy-black colour only found in the countryside, far from sodium-lit conurbations that reflect light upwards and drown the stars. But there in the Highlands, tiny polkadots of light spangled everywhere overhead, wisps of high cloud shimmered in the moonlight and even the stardust of the Milky Way was visible, sweeping into a bank of grey cloud out to the west.

  It was cold enough to take your breath away, but Jude was oblivious. She wandered, unseeing, across the lawn and sat on the wooden swing that hung under an old oak tree.

  Her mind was a jumble of worries mixed with questions, mingled with confusion and stirred by self-doubt. She'd been trying so hard to cope without Allan, to do the right thing; but this was so far outside of her comfort zone. How could he think she could run a ski school for a whole season? She was just a mother and an artist of limited talent. Her eyes stung with un-shed tears, and her throat started to feel thick. She swallowed. She had to stay strong, at least until her guests had gone.

  The noise of the back door clicking shut startled her, and she saw a dark shape walk across the grass. As the silhouette crossed the patch of light shining from the lounge window, she realised that it was Mike.

  "I brought you a jacket," he held out an anorak, "it's cold out here."

  "Oh, thanks," she said automatically, ignoring the jacket. She stood up. "But I really should be getting back inside, I'm waiting on..."

  As she said that, she could see Lucy through the panes of the back door, pressing a button on the phone and putting it down before skipping back into the lounge. "Oh!" She sat down again.

  -::-

  Mike draped the jacket round her shoulders and squatted beside her.

  Her face was faintly illuminated by the lights from the house, and he looked into her eyes and asked, "Is everything okay?"

  She looked down at her hands, twirling her engagement ring, not answering immediately.

  Then she glanced up at him. "You know how I asked you to cover for Allan for a few weeks till he got back?"

  He nodded. "Yeah."

  "Well, how would you feel about staying in Scotland a bit longer?” She chewed her lip. “Maybe till the end of the season?"

  A whole season? He stood up and walked distractedly around the tree. He hadn’t stayed in the same place for longer than a month, for over two years. If he were an Ozzie, they’d have called it walkabout. Imperceptibly, he shook his head. Wanderlust was a part of his make-up, now, and he didn’t know if he could stop in the same place for long, without feeling claustrophobic or succumbing to itchy feet.

  SHE TWISTED IN the swing so that she could see him properly, and he stopped walking, leaned against the trunk and studied her. "You're asking a rolling stone like me to settle down here fo
r a whole winter?"

  Her shoulders slumped, "I just thought..." He could see a pinprick of light reflecting off a teardrop welling in the corner of her eye. "Allan's got a job there for the whole season now, so I need someone to help me here, I can’t do it on my own. I just thought maybe you'd..." She looked down at her hands again. "But never mind, I'll get someone else."

  Her vulnerability reminded him of Emily, and, despite himself, he felt his protective instincts surfacing. When he saw the teardrop splash silently into her lap his decision was made.

  He squatted beside her again and took one of her hands in his, carefully, the way he'd hold an injured bird. "Don't worry, I'll stay." He gave her hand a small squeeze, and another teardrop splashed onto his thumb.

  "Sorry," she mumbled, and wiped at his thumb with her other hand.

  "You're freezing!" he said, taking her free hand and pulling her up as he stood up himself. "C'mon, let's get you back into the house."

  As she stood up, she lost her balance and stumbled against him. "Sorry!" she said again, as he instinctively put an arm around her to stop her falling over.

  "My fault," he started to say, expecting her to pull out of his grasp, but she stayed still for a moment, as if she were taking comfort from the reassuring strength of his arms. He was aware of a faint smell of coconut, and her hair tickling his chin. He stopped breathing for a moment.

  -::-

  In the lounge, Debbie settled herself into a large floor-cushion as Sandy started to pass on some gossip he’d heard that morning. "You'll never imagine what I heard from Lachie today, down the village?” He paused, and scratched his beard. “You remember that boarder from the other day — the one who fancied himself—"

  "You mean Cocky Colin?" suggested Callum.

  "Yes, I think that was his name, the one with his hair in his eyes all the time. Anyway, I heard that he went and got himself a job with the opposition — with Ski-Easy."