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

by Roz Marshall

  She walked right into it. "Oh my! What did he say?"

  "He said it sounded like I'd got 'Tom Jones syndrome', and I asked him if that was common?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "He said, 'it's not unusual'."

  "Oh!" She swatted playfully at his arm and giggled. "And here was us thinking you was being serious an' all. You're such a tease!"

  The giggling just sounded wrong, and Callum found himself thinking about mutton and lamb. How much longer do I have to endure this dreadful woman? Surreptitiously he turned his wrist so that he could read his watch. Only half an hour to go. Two runs, maybe. Next time I'll take her up the button tow so I don't have to listen to her stupid prattling.

  Wednesday 15th February

  RACE DAY HAD dawned bright but overcast. The races were running in the afternoon, so morning lessons ran as normal, and then the team assembled for lunch.

  The smell of ski wax pervaded the ski school hut as last-minute preparations were carried out over sandwiches and sips of tea. Mike had already prepared his skis, and he found himself marvelling at the fervid activity. Surprisingly, even Sandy was studiously sharpening the edges of his skis. These guys really care about this. He remembered how disappointed Debbie had been at not being able to race, and how hard everyone had worked in the race training sessions he'd run. Even Zoë had lost her usual lackadaisical demeanour and found a protestant work ethic from somewhere. I guess we've all done our best. Now we just need to see if it's good enough.

  He looked over at Jude. They were all doing it for her, he realised. There was some one-upmanship and macho pride in there, but Jude seemed to really care about all of them, and it made them care about her in return, and want to go the extra mile and try and win the prize for her. Hell, he'd gone the extra mile for her himself — she had that kind of effect on people.

  As if she sensed him thinking about her, she looked across at him and smiled. Her smile was like a shaft of sunlight coruscating on a snowy hillside, and as he enjoyed the warm feeling that gave him, he recognised that not only was she a nice person, but she was also a good leader. Not the kind of leader who is bossy and demanding, but the kind who is more like a shepherd — leading from behind, encouraging, and being a good example so that everyone wanted to be a part of her world. And then it hit him that he, too, was enjoying being a part of her world.

  He grinned back at her. "All ready for your race debut, then, Ms Winters?"

  Her smile faltered and he saw uncertainty flit across her face. Damn! I've unnerved her. He strode quickly across the room and sat beside her. "Sorry," he said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder, "I didn't mean to spook you."

  "It's okay," she said, but he didn't believe her.

  He gave her shoulder a squeeze, then dropped his fist onto the table. "I want you to focus on one thing in this race, Jude." He looked her in the eye. "I want you to see that arrogant bastard — excuse my French — Ed Griffiths' face in front of you, and I want you to imagine that every time you stick your ski pole in the snow you're poking his buggy eyes out, and that with every turn of your skis you're wiping that supercilious smile off his pasty face."

  She sat back, suppressing a smile. "Don't hold back, Mike, tell me how you really feel!" she teased.

  He smiled back. "I'm serious, though. Remember why we're doing this."

  "To beat that supercilious, pasty-faced bastard?" she asked innocently.

  He laughed. Yeah, he was enjoying being a part of her world.

  -::-

  Clusters of skiers and boarders dotted the flatter area at the top of the Creag Dheighe run. A loudspeaker crackled with unintelligible announcements, interspersed with driving rock music or the whoops and hollers of the race commentator. Two parallel courses of slalom poles wove down the piste; as identical as the lumps, bumps and irregularities of the slope would allow.

  Lucy had been told that for parallel slalom, only false starts mattered; once the starter said 'go' the winner was the first to get to the bottom of the course without any errors. She was determined not to incur any penalties. Mike had emphasised the importance of riding cleanly; of weaving her way in and out of the alternate red and blue poles without missing one of the flags. 'It's more important to finish than to be fast', he'd said more than once.

  There were only four snowboard teams entered from the six ski schools — not all of them had enough boarding instructors — so there were only two races in the first round, with the two winning and two losing teams going head-to-head in the next round to determine the final placings. It was their overall points tally that would determine whether they'd win the first prize, and she knew that Mike hoped the boarders would win their first race so that they'd get either first or second place points to help offset the starting penalty the ski team had been given because of Ben.

  Ben. She allowed herself a little moment to savour the sound of his name in her head. It gave her a funny feeling in the middle of her chest every time she heard it.

  Hoping nobody would notice, she stole a glance to her right. Ben was half-crouched, leaning on his ski poles, and studying the course through narrowed eyes, his right hand moving through the air from side-to-side in slow, swooping, S-shapes as he visualised himself skiing down the run.

  Her eyes flicked left and right to check nobody was watching her, and then back to the object of her adoration. He wasn't as good-looking as Marty, but he was nicer to her, and his hair reminded her of Harry from McFly. She just liked looking at him.

  Shuffling forwards so she could see the course, she tried to imagine herself riding through the gates; wondering if it would help if she waved her hand around like Ben was doing?

  Her musing was interrupted by the ringing of her mobile phone. She dug it out of her pocket, saw 'Dad' on the screen, and scrambled to pull her glove off so she could press the green button.

  "Lucykins! I heard you were doing your first race today so I got up especially, so I could wish you good luck." Reception in the mountains was iffy at the best of times, and his voice echoed and popped over the thousands of miles that separated them.

  "Thanks, Dad," she smiled stupidly into the phone, oblivious to the activity that was going on around her. He remembered!

  "You go get 'em girl — I won the instructors' race just a few years ago so be sure and keep it in the family."

  "Oh, but it's a team race, Dad," she started to tell him, and then became aware of Zoë and Marty frantically shouting her name. She looked down the run and realised that the race had started and that Spock was almost at the finish. She wasn't even properly strapped into her board. What will I do?

  Mike must've been standing nearby, because he was suddenly there and motioning Zoë into the start. "You go first instead, Zoë," he said, and, moments later, Zoë was in the start and pushing off for her run. Across in the other start gate, the girl from MacSki Snowsports School was off just a second later.

  Lucy put her phone back to her ear. "Dad, I've gotta go," she garbled, then heard voices in the static.

  "Are you coming back to bed?" she thought she heard a woman's voice asking. Lucy gasped, and hit the red button before fumbling her phone into her pocket, hands suddenly clumsy.

  "C'mon Lucy, it's your turn," said Mike.

  It must've been a crossed line, she thought as she quickly ratcheted the strap on her back boot and hopped over to the start, pulling her glove back on.

  "Hurry!" Mike's voice was anxious, and she saw the other girl from MacSki pushing off. A swift glance down the hill told her that Zoë had already finished, and that she was late starting. Oh no!

  As quickly as she could, she pushed herself through the start and powered over to the first red pole. Behind her, she heard Mike calling, "Keep calm, Lucy!", and out of the corner of her eye, she could see her rival, already more than two turns ahead.

  She realised Mike was right, and tried to focus on the race. I'll sort things out later.

  Gradually, she found the rhythm and flow to the course, and pivoted and carved h
er snowboard from left to right until she was crouching and flattening for maximum speed over the finish line.

  But although she'd made up a little bit of ground, her heart sank as she realised that the other girl had finished a few seconds in front of her. She felt like crying. I've lost! Marty is our only hope.

  Turning, she gazed frantically back up the slope, where Marty was steering the tightest line he could around the slalom poles. He was gaining on his rival inch by inch as they raced down the steep pitch, and she cupped her hands to her mouth, screaming encouragement at him as they flew around the last few turns.

  As they crossed the line, it looked to her to be a dead heat, but she could tell immediately from Marty's dejected body-language and the ebullient fist-pumping of the other boy that they'd lost.

  All the energy drained out of her and she sat down hard on the snow, putting her elbows on her thighs and her head in her hands. Tears stung her eyes and wet her cheeks as the words I lost us the race kept whirling through her brain.

  MIKE SKIDDED HIS skis to a stop, popped out of his bindings and yomped over so he could speak to Lucy. He crouched down and put an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay, Lucy," he said gently.

  "It's not okay, I lost the race," she sobbed. "Dad phoned, and I got distracted, and I lost the race." She looked up at him with blotchy cheeks and wailed, "I'm sorry, Mike," before breaking down in tears again.

  He held her, and let her cry. There was nothing to do in a situation like this except wait.

  After a minute or two, her breathing eased and she looked up at him again. There was a mixture of worry and hope in her expression. "Mike, can I ask you something?"

  "Sure."

  "What time is it in New Zealand just now?"

  That's not the question I'd have expected. He looked at his watch and did a quick mental calculation. "About three thirty in the morning."

  She frowned and bit her lip in a way that reminded him of Jude — she'd obviously picked up some of her mother's mannerisms. "Do people in New Zealand," she paused and looked up at him, "sleep during the night the same as we do? Or do they sleep during the day because of the time difference?"

  "No, they'd be asleep right now; it's dark there when it's light here, and people usually sleep when it's dark."

  She nodded, but she didn't seem any less worried. I wonder what's eating her?

  -::-

  Jude skied over to where Mike was squatting beside Lucy and clipped out of her skis. "Oh, honey, what a shame! D'you need a hug?" She opened her arms.

  Lucy pushed herself up so she was standing on her board, and accepted the embrace. "I'm so sorry, Mum, I've let you down."

  "There, there. Now, I don't want you saying things like that — this is a team race and we all have our parts to play. And the good thing is," she held Lucy's shoulders and pushed the girl away from her, so she could look her in the eye, "we've got another boarding race to go, and then the skiing races. So there's still plenty of chances for us to win," she looked over at Mike, "aren't there, Mike?"

  Mike was clipping his skis back on, and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, she'll be right — it ain't over till the horizontally-challenged lady struts her stuff." He raised his eyebrows. "Anyway, it wasn't really Lucy's fault." He straightened up. "Her Dad phoned just as they were about to get going, and made her late for her start slot."

  "Really?" said Jude, feeling her mouth tighten. Why couldn't he have phoned earlier? She looked at her watch. It must be the middle of the night over there. She squeezed her daughter's shoulders in a quick hug, then said, "Right, let's get back up to the top so you can show them what you're made of in the next race."

  -::-

  The board-off for third place in the snowboard race was an easy win for the White Cairns team — Lucy had pulled herself together and seemed determined to make up for her lapse in the first round; the others rode the course without incident to put them into third place overall.

  The bad news was that Ski-Easy won the snowboard final, and Mike tried to avoid looking at Ed Griffiths, who was displaying his gappy teeth so often that it looked like he was auditioning for a toothpaste advert. It might have been a different story, he thought, if Lucy's dad hadn't phoned at just the wrong moment. He frowned. It may be irrational, since I've never met the bloke, but I'm really starting to dislike him.

  An announcement that the ski races were about to start interrupted the booming rock music that reverberated across the mountain, and Mike took that as his cue to marshall his team. He slid over to the group, and caught their attention. "Okay, guys, let's get ourselves over to the start, in skiing order."

  Because there were more ski instructors than snowboard instructors in the resort, the ski teams were bigger than the boarding teams, with four male and two female competitors, and eight teams entered overall.

  Mike had decided to employ some tactics, and to save their 'secret weapon', Sandy, until the later rounds. He was aware that, as long as they won their first race, they'd face three rounds of the competition, and privately he was worried that the older man might not have enough energy.

  For that first round against Ski Express, Mike tried putting Callum off first to chase down some of their two-gate penalty, followed by himself, Fiona, Jude and Simon, with Ben doing the final leg. But by the time Ben was due to race, Ski Express had contradicted their name allowing White Cairns to draw slightly ahead, so there was nothing for Ben to do except to stay on his feet.

  That's a bit of a waste of an olympic racer, thought Mike, and decided that Ben was better going in the first slot to do what he did best and catch up some of their handicap. He swapped Callum into second place with himself skiing last and Sandy skiing the penultimate leg; hoping that by the time the ladies had skied they would be in the lead and Sandy's tactical turbo-speed could be saved for the final.

  This second race was against Snowbound, one of the other winning teams from the first round. Whoever won this would be in the final against the winners from the other draw, which was looking as if it might be Ski-Easy...

  JUDE'S BUTTERFLIES WERE back. With a vengance. As she waited for her turn in their second race, she could hardly breathe. She hadn't been as worried about her first race, probably because her anger at Allan's untimely phone call disrupting Lucy's race had buoyed her up and carried her down the run as if she were on wings.

  But now she was on a post-adrenaline slump, and the enormity of their task was weighing her down. We don't just need to do well, we need to win!

  Mike was the only one that knew the secret reason they had to win. The Ski Development Trust had needed a response to whether she would be able to supply their race trials and once she'd discovered about the race and its prize, she'd taken a gamble and accepted the work. But if they didn't win, she'd have to find some money to buy the equipment. I'll just have to sell something, she realised.

  Her mind started to perform a mental inventory, cycling through her possessions to identify something of value that might sell. They needed the car to get up and down to the slopes, and to take Lucy to drama classes, so that was out. She needed her computer for work. There were no undiscovered masterpieces hanging on the walls, no leather-bound first editions skulking at the back of a bookcase, no mysterious Ming vases in the lounge, and no cash in the attic.

  Sad to say, the only real thing she had of value was her engagement ring. She bit her lip. Would Allan even notice if I wasn't wearing it? Probably not. The engagement ring it was, then.

  This decision seemed to clear her mind, and she became less aware of the butterflies as she concentrated on the race; conjuring up Alain Baxter's face, and trying to take on his persona once more.

  A flurry of activity at the start drew her attention, and she realised that Ben was in the start gate and that they were about to go. From the back of their line, Mike was saying, "Concentrate, guys. Remember, it's more important to finish than to be fast." And with that, Forbes flapped the starter's flag down and the lead-off man from Snowbound
pushed out of the start.

  Ben jiggled his feet up and down, waiting impatiently for their two-gate penalty to be over, and then suddenly his green light was on and he was away, flying down the piste, screaming round the poles at an impossible rate, and bearing down on their opponent with every turn.

  "Careful, Ben," muttered Mike from behind her as Callum shuffled into the start and hunkered down, ready to go.

  Within seconds, Callum's green light had flashed on, and he too was away, zooming down the icy pitch and dancing around the poles. Fiona was next to go, and she turned to clasp Jude's arm, "Good luck," before she settled herself into her starting position. By the end of his run, Callum had caught up with the Snowbound racer, and was only a ski's length behind.

  Jude's throat was dry, and all she could do was to croak, "Good luck," as Fiona, too, disappeared down the race track.

  Mike touched her arm. "Remember, Jude, don't worry—"

  "Be happy!" she nodded, finding her focus again, and stabbed her ski poles into the snow in front of the start gate as if she were spearing Ed Griffith's eyes. Alain Baxter's drive and determination settled on her like a second skin, and when her green light flashed on, she zoomed out of the gate and into her first turn, skiing as if she were racing for an Olympic medal.

  -::-

  Mike craned his neck to see Jude's first turns, and nodded to himself as he realised that she was bringing her best game. Sweet as. Her rival from Snowbound was good, though, and she'd have a hard job to make up any ground. But hopefully Sandy, their secret weapon, would put them into the lead.

  He clasped the older man on the shoulder, and Sandy grunted acknowledgement as he stomped into the start. Mike looked across at the other lane, and saw young Ollie from Snowbound giving Sandy a disdainful look. He smiled. He won't be looking so snotty when he gets to the finish!

  Jude must've just been beaten by the Snowbound lady, as Sandy's light flashed on a moment after Ollie's. But Ollie had been caught napping and hadn't reckoned with Sandy's flying start, so by the time they got to the first gate the older man was only a hair's breadth behind.