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

by Roz Marshall

  It was as if Sandy were playing cat and mouse with the youngster; he'd catch up briefly and then drop back again. But as they approached the last few turns and Mike readied himself in the start, Sandy seemed to let the handbrake off and shot into the lead.

  Mike's green light flashed on, and he pushed off, realising with exultation that they were ahead. By the time he got to the second pole, he had reached full speed, and there was no sign of his rival.

  He glanced over his shoulder to see where Kenny was, and that was his undoing. With his concentration behind rather than ahead, his right ski tracked into a deep rut, and he was thrown out of the race line, nearly overshooting the next turn, and having to skid his skis to avoid missing the gate.

  Now he could see where Kenny was. Ahead.

  He felt like a fool. After all the advice he'd given the others about finishing rather than going fast, he'd fallen foul of a simple terrain glitch. Bloody idiot!

  It was more important than ever for him to get his skis onto their edges so they'd carve a tight line and get as close to the poles as possible. He narrowed his focus, forgetting about Kenny and concentrating on his own race, straining to gain speed and find the most direct route down the course.

  On the final turn, he realised with elation that he'd made up the lost ground, and flattened his skis, crouching into a schuss that would glide him over the finish as fast as possible.

  The roar from his team as he skidded to a halt told him all he needed to know. We won!

  BEN KNEW IT was just superstition, but he had to rub some wax into the base of his skis before every race. Otherwise, if they didn't run well, he'd be blaming his skis, not his own performance. He liked to do some stretches before every race as well, but with this relay format, there wasn't much time in between each contest, so he was having to curtail his usual routine.

  If he'd been back on the circuit, his coach would've been riding him about that, and giving him grief about strength training whilst he was at it. He was keeping fairly fit with all the skiing and a quick run most nights before dinner, but he was pretty sure he was losing muscle mass. I need to win those vouchers, so I can buy some free weights. A 'home gym' would keep him ticking over until the end of the season, and then he could speak to the selectors about maybe getting back on the squad again.

  It wasn't until they'd started doing the race training that he realised how much he missed it. Passing the instructor exam can wait another season or two. He looked over at Sandy. If Santa's still skiing when he's nearly drawing a pension, then there's plenty time for me.

  He'd just picked up his second ski and the wax pad when Cocky Colin, as Callum called him, stopped to talk to him.

  "You all set for the big final, bro?" asked the snowboarder from Ski-Easy.

  Ben looked up at him from under his eyebrows. "Aye." Colin didn't move away, so Ben looked up again. "Are you racing?"

  "Not me, bro, I'm a boarder not a two-planker. I'm sitting it out and leading the cheerleaders this time."

  Ed Griffiths appeared from behind Colin and tilted his jaw at Ben. "Shame you couldn't join us, Ben; you could've learned what it was like to be on a winning team!"

  Ben snorted. "Aye, right!"

  He was saved from having to respond any further by Mike, who put a hand on his arm. "Time to race, Ben." He looked over at Ed and Colin. "And you blokes better rack off if you don't want to miss the start and lose your precious two-gate advantage."

  Ed scowled at them, but turned on his heel and stalked off without saying any more, Colin loping along behind him.

  "Okay, you know what you've got to do, Ben," said Mike.

  Ben nodded, and lifted his skis over to the start, before clipping in and then sliding one ski back into a calf stretch. Time to see if he could help the team to win, and get those vouchers whilst he was at it.

  -::-

  Mike shuffled into the start gate and glanced across at his rival. Ed Griffiths leered at him and made a slashing motion across his neck, mouthing what looked like, "You're dead!"

  Gamesmanship, again! Mike rolled his eyes, then turned his focus to the race piste. Callum was nearing the bottom, and looked to be just slightly ahead of Ferg from Ski-Easy. Sticking his poles into the snow just in front of the start gate timing wand, Mike watched for the green light and sat back on his heels, ready to boost his body through the start as fast as possible. When Callum was about ten yards from the finish, Mike caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and realised that Ed had already started. How is that possible? Callum is ahead.

  But his green light came on and as he powered through the start, his mind cleared and time seemed to slow as he focussed on the race ahead.

  He pushed hard and had already built up some good speed as he turned for the first pole, when he became aware that something felt wrong underfoot, and suddenly he was flying through the air and then landing hard on his side and sprawling on the snow.

  What the hell happened? Quickly, he sat up and assessed the damage. One ski had come off and was marooned on a lump of snow with the back part of the binding sticking up in the air. How did I come out of my bindings so easily? And then he remembered Ed Griffiths lurking behind their group in-between races whilst Colin distracted Ben, and it all became clear. He obviously tampered with my skis and set the bindings to release far too easily. Bastard.

  The blast of a whistle startled him, and he jerked his head up as the world came back into focus again. Looking down the course, he saw that Ed had been stopped two turns further down — he must've got too close and straddled a gate; one ski incorrectly going around the inside of the slalom pole. So all was not lost!

  He looked back up to the top. Since he was last to ski, the only skier left up there was Simon, who, for once, seemed to be on the ball and so was already sliding down the hill towards him. It looked like he'd worked out what happened.

  Mike stood up and as he pulled off his remaining ski, Simon handed him his pair, saying, "Here, dude, your need is greater than mine!"

  Mike clipped quickly into them, throwing a hasty, "Thanks mate!" over his shoulder as he pushed off.

  Ahead, he could see that Ed had managed to climb back up to the gate he'd missed, and was stepping round it to correct his direction. But his opponent had lost all momentum and was making a standing start, whereas Mike was now moving through the course and catching him up.

  Mike narrowed his focus again, concentrating on using the terrain to help him to turn around the poles, and getting the best performance he could out of himself and his borrowed skis. Every turn that he made, he tried to eke every last inch of carve out of his skis; every pole that he passed he tried to get so close that he had to bat the spring-loaded poles out of the way with his forearm guards. He thought the roaring in his ears might be the wind, or perhaps it was the noise of the crowd, but every muscle was straining so hard it might even have been the blood pounding in his veins.

  A glance across showed him that he had caught up and that he and his adversary were now almost neck-and-neck as they approached the flatter part of the run just before the finish.

  Rounding the last pole, he threw himself into an aerodynamic tuck position, crouched down with hands forwards in front of his face and poles tucked under his arms, attempting to get every last possible ounce of speed out of his flattened skis in these final few seconds of the race.

  His thighs were burning and his lungs were bursting as he made a desperate lunge for the line, giving everything he had and straining for the win that had seemed an impossibility less than a minute ago.

  As he crossed the finish, he looked across and saw Ed, and couldn't tell which of them had won — neither seemed to be ahead and it felt like a dead heat. Frantically he looked around for some indication of who had come first, and then he saw Ed's team rushing across to congratulate him. Ed turned and gave a gloating, gap-toothed grin in his direction.

  His shoulders slumped and he turned dejectedly towards the rest of the White Cairns team, wh
o had been waiting at the bottom. Ambient noise returned like someone turning the volume button back up, and he became aware of the cheering of the crowd, and then the loudspeaker making a muddy announcement.

  Next thing he knew, Jude and the others were surrounding him; thumping his back, hugging him or holding up their hands for high-fives. He was mystified. "Why are you… we didn't win," he said with a grimace in Jude's direction.

  "Ed got penalised for false starting!" crowed Marty.

  "But I think you won, anyway," said Ben. "Your dip at the line got you over first. That run was a stoater!"

  They had won! His grimace turned into a wide grin of delight.

  MIKE'S JOY AT their win dissipated like snowflakes in the wind, and he felt his blood run cold when he heard a loud, high-pitched call from somewhere nearby.

  "Mike-y!"

  Monique.

  He turned, and saw her bearing down on their group, waving her arms and smiling manically.

  Their victory suddenly lost some of its shine as he realised that she would probably try and embrace him, and possibly never let go. What do I have to do to make that woman give up?

  Jude, too, had seen her approaching, and turned to him with a look on her face that was somewhere between pity and disgust.

  Inspiration struck. "Sorry, Jude," he muttered; stepped towards her and pulled her into his arms. He slid a hand up behind her neck and kissed her on the lips, as obviously and theatrically as he could manage, hoping that it might finally dissuade Monique from her predatory pursuit of him.

  Jude had tensed at his touch and initially she pulled back imperceptibly. She's maybe worrying about what the others will think. They would certainly have a lot of explaining to do after this, he started to think, but then Jude's arms went round his back and her lips melted against his, and rational thought started to slip away into a haze of pleasurable sensations and faintly-remembered longings.

  -::-

  Jude heard a small cry of distress from Monique, and then there was a pause.

  We need to make this look good. She'd realised what Mike was trying to do almost straight away, and had reluctantly gone with it, but they'd need to be convincing or that awful woman would never stop stalking him. She ran her hands around his waist and lifted her chin slightly.

  His lips moved against hers, and, involuntarily, she found her lips parting and her breath catching in her throat.

  "Callum! You were champion today, pet!" she heard Monique say, as if from a long distance away, but it dragged her back into reality. That's great, maybe she's given up on Mike.

  She pulled back a little and whispered, "I think it's worked."

  Mike's eyes looked slightly unfocussed, but he nodded and stood back, leaving one arm around her for effect.

  Jude bit her lip, realising as she did so that she could still feel the imprint of Mike's kiss on her mouth. She was sure her cheeks would be flushed, and looked round to see if anyone had noticed, only to be met by Lucy's horrified gaze.

  I CAN'T TAKE this. First Dad and some mystery woman, and now Mum and Mike! Lucy was overwhelmed by the emotional roller-coaster of the day — her dad's phone call, losing her race, the team winning overall, and now this — and it felt like someone was clutching at her throat and trying to strangle her. Blindly, she turned away, hunting desperately for her snowboard with eyes that refused to focus properly.

  "Lucy," she felt her mother's arm go around her, "please don't rush off, let me explain."

  She shrugged off the embrace. "I saw what was going on, I don't need an explanation!"

  "There's nothing going on, Lucy." She felt Jude's hand on her arm. "We were just acting — you know all about that from your drama classes — to throw off that horrible woman that was stalking Mike. I told you about her before he came to stay last night — she's the one who followed him to the office the other night so she could hand-deliver a valentine."

  Lucy swiped a tear off her cheek. "Mike's stalker is here?" She looked across at Mike, who was gazing at them with a worried look on his face.

  "Yes, that woman over there — the one that's draped all over poor Callum."

  Lucy saw Callum making frantic attempts to divest himself of his unwanted admirer, and then looked back at Mike, trying to see him, for the first time, as an adult woman might. He's alright, I suppose, for an older guy. Fit. Nice eyes. Going a bit grey though. She turned back to her Mum, knitting her brows as she searched Jude's face. "Are you sure there's nothing going on? It looked quite," she twisted her lip, "real."

  Jude took Lucy's hand and tucked it into her elbow, turning them back to the group. "Absolutely nothing." She nudged Lucy playfully in the ribs. "Where d'you think your acting ability comes from?"

  -::-

  "Hey, any day's skiing where you finish wi' the same number of bones that you started with is a good day!" said Callum, and then he turned to Mike with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Or for some of us, any day when we finish up still having two working skis is a good day!"

  Mike laughed along with the rest of the team as they sat in The Rowan enjoying some après ski and the fruits of their victory. I suppose I deserve that one!

  There was a knocking on the table and everyone fell silent as Jude raised a glass. "I just wanted to say a huge 'thank you' to every single one of you, for all your hard work and for winning today." She looked round the table, making eye contact with each of them. Mike remembered how nervous she'd been about public speaking when they did the recruitment clinic back in December. It's amazing how much her confidence has improved. I wonder if getting back to skiing made a difference? Then she turned her gaze on him. "And special thanks go to our trainer and anchor man, Mike." She held her glass higher. "Mike, we couldn't have done it without you, so I want you to know that you have my heart-felt thanks." Her smile encompassed all of them. "To Mike, and to White Cairns ski team!"

  There was a chorus of agreement and clinking of glasses as they all joined in the toast. Mike was aware of a glow of pride suffusing his body — if he wasn't teetotal he might have blamed alcohol. But there was definitely something different going on here. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that way.

  He scanned round the group, and realised with a shock that he felt fondly about each one of them — even his self-satisfied ex-landlord, Sandy. He missed Debbie being there, with her quick smile and infectious enthusiasm. She was part of the family, and it was sad that she couldn't be there to join in the celebration.

  Family! His mind rewound to that thought. Family. He looked round at them all again. Yes, I guess they are starting to feel like family. I do care about what happens to them. But that alien feeling made him slightly anxious; it was such a long time since he'd felt a part of anything. Hell, it was such a long time since he'd felt anything. Since Emily died, he'd perfected the art of running from his feelings, and it had taken him half-way around the world.

  But now, here in this nowhere-village in Scotland, he'd seen first-hand the love and loyalty of this group of youngsters who'd bust a gut and performed beyond their natural ability, just to help their boss win a race.

  At this thought, he looked up found he was being observed by Jude. She smiled tentatively at him. She's a lot to do with why I like it here, he realised, and felt his heart twist in his chest. She's a special lady, and she's so modest, she doesn't even realise it. That husband of hers must be a real drongo!

  He stood up, clearing his throat loudly and lifting his glass. "The toasts wouldn't be complete without a recognition of our substitute skier and brilliant boss, Jude. She gave us all a chance at the beginning of the season," he raised his eyebrows at them, "and, what most of you don't know is that she had such faith in us winning the race that she committed to buying timing equipment that she couldn't really afford unless we won the race. But because of that we have a new client for race training, thanks to Jude's faith in you, and your hard work in winning the race. So, well done, everyone."

  He raised his glass for the
toast, and looked her in the eye. "To White Cairns Ski School, and to Jude!"

  DEBBIE LOOKED AT her watch. Two minutes past seven. She scanned the ward. Nobody's coming. They must be too busy celebrating or commiserating at the pub. She swallowed, then opened her book again. I'll just have to make do with fictional company.

  Debbie's sojourn on a tropical island was abruptly terminated a few minutes later when a silver cup was plonked on her bed.

  "We won!" said Ben.

  "We nearly didn't," said Callum, "but Mike and Spock saved the day."

  "We won?" Debbie said incredulously, putting down her book. "Wow, that's great! Tell me all about it!"

  Ben and Callum proceeded to give an overview of the day, including some live re-enactments and comic imitations of Mike's tumble and Ed's teeth-gnashing when Ski-Easy lost.

  "And then guess what happened at the finish?" asked Callum.

  There was a silence, and then Debbie said, "So what happened?"

  "Are you no going to guess?"

  "Just tell me, silly, don't be mean!"

  Callum sighed theatrically, then looked dramatically from side to side before whispering, "Mike snogged Jude!"

  "No!" Debbie's eyebrows shot to the top of her forehead. "Seriously?"

  "He was trying to put off some woman who's been his pupil this week and got obsessed with him," interjected Ben.

  "Yeah, and then he fobbed her off onto me and I only just got out alive!" Callum flicked his arms down his sleeves as if brushing off something undesirable.

  "She even followed him home the other night and then delivered a valentine card," added Ben. "I heard she delivered it in person, and that all she was wearing was a fur coat!"

  The mention of valentine cards reminded Debbie of her snowy valentine from that morning, and she looked speculatively at Ben, wondering if his attitude to her was any different to normal. But he was so busy playing straight-man to Callum that there was no hint of anything special in his behaviour towards her. She sighed inwardly. Story of my life. The identity of her secret admirer would have to stay a mystery for a while longer.