by Adele Parks
‘Why didn’t you bring Greta along? Doesn’t she ski?’ asked Jase innocently.
‘Yes, she does, actually,’ admitted Lloyd. ‘I didn’t bring her along because I didn’t think she was welcome,’ he blurted.
‘It’s not that we have anything against you or Greta,’ said Kate untruthfully. In fact, she was wary of Greta. As a rule she didn’t like women who went out with married men. Ted was a married man. She generally preferred to mix with married women. ‘Ted and I haven’t seen you as much because we thought it was awkward. In truth, we liked Sophie.’ She jutted out her chin in defiance.
‘Yes, I liked Sophie, too,’ added Jason, jumping on the bandwagon that looked vaguely like the moral high ground. It was true that he’d always thought she had great tits and nice cheekbones.
A general buzz went around the crowd. Everyone agreed that they did like Sophie. Mia forgot that she had thought she was rather common. She’d worn her ambition on her sleeve. She was an archetypal working-class, comprehensive-educated girl, with a chip on her shoulder the size of a Henry Moore sculpture. She’d been so desperate to prove herself. Which, Mia supposed, she had, when she made her business a success and received that award from whichever magazine she received it from. (Mia couldn’t quite remember, despite Sophie going on about nothing but for several weeks.) She’d been nauseating when she’d gone to that ceremony at the Ritz, just because it was on some crappy satellite TV channel. She had no idea how to be gracious. Her sort never did. But Mia did like her now. Now that she’d seen her crumble into tiny, spiky shards of glass. The chip crumbling along with the rest of her.
‘Why isn’t Sophie here, then?’ asked Lloyd reasonably. His grin was ridiculously wide and slack. He thought he was being extremely clever and that he’d just tripped them up in a complex interrogation.
‘Because we were being tactful towards you, mate,’ explained Rich carefully.
‘Right,’ said Lloyd, allowing his disbelief to show. The loud music blasted around Lloyd’s head, drowning out common sense. He couldn’t really understand why he was saying these things. He’d wanted to be agreeable, yet this was social suicide. He laughed into his whisky, drained it, then poured another. Rich noticed that his whisky glass was empty, too. He refilled it.
‘Sorry, mate, that we didn’t specifically invite Greta. Maybe we should have been more welcoming. We should have had you over for dinner by now. As soon as we get back we’ll arrange it. But I think I did feel funny about having Greta over for dinner, so soon after Sophie.’
‘So you are saying you stopped seeing me in deference to Sophie?’ challenged Lloyd.
‘I don’t know, maybe. Yes.’ Rich felt quite proud of himself for computing and confessing something so emotionally complex. Lloyd chose to throw cold water.
‘If only that were true. If only you were making a moral judgement on my behaviour. But you are not. The reason you don’t see either me or Sophie is not because I behaved badly, or even because she’s boring and always crying into her Chardonnay nowadays. It’s because we don’t fit any longer.’ Lloyd shouted this, and was drawing attention from other clubbers and drinkers. It was lucky he was British and the French expected little better of English tourists. ‘We’re not throwing barbecues in the summer or dinner parties at any time. We don’t make polite conversation. We’re not perfect, successful or even happy. We hurt, and we bleed our hurt all over the place.’
Lloyd waved his hand about, to demonstrate the point that he metaphorically bled profusely, and sent glasses crashing and smashing to the floor.
‘We’re not reliable dinner guests. She dates younger men, and that’s embarrassing for you. We don’t fit any more; we can’t get in to your exclusive club. We don’t fit, so we don’t count.’
Lloyd threw himself back into his seat and, for an awful moment, it looked as though he was going to cry. Everyone wished he would shut up, including himself.
‘Now, come on. Let me get this straight. You are giving us a hard time about not inviting Sophie. Not being nice to Sophie. That takes the biscuit. You treated her like shit, mate. You dumped her. You were together for six years, married for three of those. Then you grew bored and you gave her and your kid the old heave-ho.’ Rich thought it was time to point out the obvious.
‘I didn’t give my daughter the heave-ho,’ shouted Lloyd.
‘You did. You could have worked harder at it for her sake,’ argued Rich. He was really irritated that Lloyd was ruining his night like this.
‘We are really sensible about time access to Joanna. I see her every Sunday.’
‘She’s a baby, not a timeshare in the Costa del Sol,’ snapped Kate.
‘He needs some air,’ said Tash. ‘He’s drunk a lot.’ She stood up and kindly led Lloyd outside before he could expose himself further. She felt uncomfortable because she had a feeling that his drunken ramblings were the worst kind – they were correct. As Tash led him away, Lloyd could hear the recriminations he’d left in his wake.
‘What Lloyd did was wrong. He left a wife and child,’ said Kate.
‘Well, strictly speaking, Sophie threw Checkers out. He didn’t have any choice in the matter,’ pointed out Mia.
‘She was right to throw him out. He had an affair,’ added Rich.
‘I admit it was daft of him. He hurt himself but –’ Ted interjected.
‘He hurt her, not himself. People should say what they mean, or else what is the point?’ bit out Kate.
‘It is quite possible that there isn’t one,’ shouted Lloyd over his shoulder, as Tash continued to shepherd him away. She was trying her best to get him to stay upright so that he didn’t upset any more drinks or people. ‘And would you all stop talking about me as though I’m not here,’ slurred Lloyd, clearly disgruntled.
‘Oh yes, sorry, mate. Habit,’ apologized Jason.
22. It’s Cold Outside
Tash and Lloyd stood outside the bar and didn’t know what to say to one another. The freezing air was so cold it scratched at Tash’s eyeballs and bit her cheeks, but, on the plus side, it seemed to help sober up Lloyd. They both wondered what to do next, and they both wondered if Lloyd was going to throw up. It was snowing heavily, shrouding everything in a thick, white mist. Tiny, silver fairy lights twinkled magically on roofs and fences, illuminating the wood with a warm amber glow.
‘I’m sorry about that.’ Lloyd pointed towards the bar.
Tash shrugged, ‘No problem.’
‘I’ve drunk too much.’
‘I should say,’ Tash smiled. ‘It’s nothing. God, we’ve all been lashed, then lashed out, said things we didn’t mean.’
‘I did mean it, though,’ said Lloyd defiantly.
‘Right.’ Tash moved her weight from her left foot to her right and concentrated on making patterns in the snow.
‘Well, I think I did. I don’t know. I’m not sure about–’ Lloyd searched for the word.
‘Anything?’ filled in Tash.
Lloyd nodded, ‘I guess. Still, I am sorry. It’s not the kind of stuff you want to listen to six days before your wedding, though, is it?’
Tash checked her watch. ‘It’s technically only five days to my wedding.’
‘The countdown begins.’ He smiled and tried to look bright and sober; he felt he owed this nice woman that much.
Tash grinned back. ‘Should we walk back to the hotel? It’s only five minutes, but we can get a horse and sleigh if you don’t think you can’t–’
‘No, I’ll manage. The walk will do me good,’ smiled Lloyd.
Tash looked at him properly for the first time. As she’d only just met him and it had been such a busy day, she hadn’t really had a chance to take him in. Rich hadn’t been particularly forthcoming in his description of Lloyd. He’d simply revealed that he was initially focused and recently divorced. It didn’t give her much to go on. Tash had got the impression that Lloyd was so much more ordinary than all of Rich’s other mates. That sounded rude. She didn’t mean to be rude.<
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She’d expected someone so typically run-of-the-mill that he had become a caricature in her head. Lloyd was a man who had been jealous of his wife’s success and the time she spent on their baby, and therefore had an affair with a younger, blonder, less demanding woman, to secure a bit of attention. In the flesh, however, Lloyd was much more complicated than the caricature that Tash had allowed to settle in her mind. He was bleeding, just as he’d said. His face was tense with regret and pain. His eyes were wary, almost hunted. This man was clearly confused and at a complete loss as to how he ended up exactly where he was. Tash didn’t know enough about his marital experience to know if he was a complete tosser or not. All she knew was that this man needed friends. Tash found herself wishing Rich had been a better friend to Lloyd. Which surprised her – she always thought of Rich as an excellent buddy.
They walked to the hotel in silence, then Tash walked Lloyd to his room as she feared that he’d have a relapse and wouldn’t be able to put his key in the lock.
‘Thanks for the escort,’ said Lloyd when they reached the door to his room.
‘No problem.’ Tash turned to leave, then stopped. She turned back to him, the tired, drunken man struggling with the mechanics of a basic door lock. ‘Look, I don’t know how to say this without sounding corny, but, if you need someone to talk to, if you need a friend, then I’m happy to be it.’
‘Thank you,’ smiled Lloyd, ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’
Rich got back to their room only minutes after Tash. She had taken her boots off and was in the bathroom removing her make-up. Rich crept up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. He started to nibble her ear.
‘It’s been a long day.’
‘Hasn’t it,’ she agreed.
‘I’m sorry about Lloyd. What a wanker. He really spoilt a very good evening,’ said Rich, as he broke away from Tash and sat on the bed to pull his sneakers off. He was feeling more than peeved. He hated people who couldn’t hold their drink. He didn’t need this. Jayne being here, crashing the party was bad enough. He didn’t want to listen to Lloyd’s self-indulgent, drunken rants. Didn’t Lloyd know this was supposed to be a celebration? It was this miserable self-pity that had made Rich steer away from him over the past year. People falling in love didn’t usually like to look at the carnage of a divorce.
‘Don’t worry. He apologized, too,’ said Tash.
Rich wasn’t listening. He really had to talk to Tash about Jayne. He’d meant to earlier this evening, but then they’d gotten cheeky instead, and afterwards it just hadn’t seemed like the right moment. He could have said something tonight, he supposed. It wasn’t as though Jayne’s name didn’t come up in conversation – the opposite was true. Tash had almost continually sung her praises. She’d gone on and on about how sweet Jayne was, how attractive and what fun. Clearly Tash had made Jayne her new best friend, but that had somehow made it harder for him to say anything, not easier.
Clearly now wasn’t the moment. Not now that Lloyd had dampened the festivities. Rich wondered if it would be best to keep quiet altogether. If the matter ever came to light, he could always say that he had not considered it significant enough to mention.
‘Actually, I feel a bit sorry for him. He seems lonely,’ said Tash, interrupting Rich’s thoughts.
‘He brought it on himself,’ muttered Rich. He didn’t have any sympathy to share. Rich had quickly stripped himself naked and hopped into bed.
‘Yeah, well, everyone makes mistakes,’ said Tash, as she started to pull off her multiple layers of clothes. ‘Not that I’m condoning his behaviour. Be clear, I love you too much to be able to forgive you if you were ever unfaithful. I’d chop your bollocks off. Surely that is threat enough to keep you on the straight and narrow.’ Tash was now naked, and she climbed into bed next to Rich. ‘And if I ever had a dalliance, I give you full permission to break the heels off all my shoes.’ She smiled with the confidence of a woman about to marry the man she loves; she couldn’t really imagine the situation they were joking about. More seriously, she added, ‘It’s not infectious, you know.’
‘What isn’t?’
‘Divorce, unhappiness. You can’t catch it from him.’
‘I hope not,’ he mumbled, as he stretched to turn out the bedside light.
Sunday
23. Slippery Slope
The conditions were perfect for skiing and boarding. The cobalt-blue sky was split with white-hot sun rays. The spectacular mountains were covered with deep, fresh snow. The forecasts had proved spot on; there had been a huge dump of snow last night. There were long, wide ski runs overflowing with fresh powder, and risky, narrow tracks winding between fir trees that were weighed down with white blankets. Tash was feeling excited; Kate was feeling nervous; Jayne was feeling confident; Mia and the boys were feeling competitive.
‘Are you going to throw some tricks?’
‘What are the parks like here?’
‘There are hips, quarters, tables, gaps, spines. You name it.’
‘Guaranteed thrills.’
‘Maybe we should hire one of those crews that video you in action, then we can have serious debriefs at the end of the day. It’s the only real way to improve technique.’
‘You haven’t got wrist protectors on.’
‘I never fall, mate.’
‘I’ll do a couple of black runs just to get the lay of the land, and then I think I’ll get over to Switzerland for some hot chocolate.’
And so on. You could almost taste the testosterone.
Snow sports require a lot of preparation. Dressing in the morning was like preparing for battle. The boarder girls wore knee, wrist and bum protection, even though they bemoaned the fact that the question ‘Does my bum look big in this?’ had never been so redundant. Thermals, salapex or trousers, jackets, snoods, gloves, boots and goggles were essential wear. It took an age to get everyone dressed and out on the slopes, only to find that they’d forgotten the piste map, then water bottles, and then the walkie-talkies, so Lloyd, Rich and Jason took it in turns to run back to the hotel to retrieve the forgotten items. Despite a very early breakfast, it was past eleven o’clock before they reached the top of the slopes.
‘At least we didn’t have to queue for a shuttle every morning like we did in Chamonix,’ said Mia.
‘Was that where we had to reserve the cable car?’ asked Jason.
‘Yes, dull bloody wait. But it was worth it. Wonderful snow, the best. It was as though we were the only people on the mountain.’ Mia smiled at the memory.
‘It felt as though we were the only people on the planet,’ laughed Jason.
‘It felt as though we were ruling the fucking planet,’ added Lloyd.
Lloyd was trying to be particularly lively and pleasant. He’d dashed about at breakfast, refilling everyone’s coffee cup, securing extra croissants. He’d helped to tighten everyone’s boots and adjust goggles. He was trying to compensate for his drunken outburst last night. No one referred to his ranting, and he was grateful. He wasn’t absolutely sure exactly what he’d said last night, but he rather feared he’d been a bit of a bore. Bloody Sophie, she’d put the idea in his head that the gang had been neglectful of him, and then he’d gone and spewed her idea all over their party. It wasn’t good form. He felt embarrassed, and was grateful for the gang’s tactful silence on the matter. He wished Tash wouldn’t keep giving him those obvious looks of concern. She was a lovely girl, he wouldn’t want you to get him wrong, but what’s said on tour stays on tour. He was drunk; he didn’t mean that stuff. Well, he did. A little bit. He meant some of it. Last night he’d meant all of it. But that was the drink talking. Wasn’t it?
Lloyd shook his head. It was impossible to think straight with a hangover. He needed to get skiing. That would clear the cobwebs. He wondered just how cross Greta really was. He had no idea. And Sophie? God, he couldn’t even think about Sophie. He’d made such an arse of himself. What had he been thinking of asking Sophie to come here? A recipe for dis
aster. Not what he wanted. Not really.
Lloyd, Kate and Ted had decided to stick to skiing. Jason was a great skier, but he wanted to learn to board – and Mia realized that this was largely to impress Jayne. So she, who was also a long-term skier, said that she wanted to learn to board, too – largely to keep up with Jason. Jayne, Rich and Tash didn’t even consider skiing, preferring instead the adventure and challenge of boarding.
At the top of the run, Mia watched with envy as Jayne effortlessly stepped on to her board, fastened her bindings in one swift movement and set off down the slope.
‘She’s a natural,’ laughed Lloyd. The entire group kept their eyes on the slight girl as she gracefully carved her way through the fresh snow.
‘No, she’s a master,’ marvelled Rich. ‘Look at her technique. It’s spot on.’
‘She’s always been a great sportswoman,’ commented Ted.
‘I’m going to catch her up,’ said Tash. Pulling her goggles down over her eyes, she set off down the slope. All eyes were on her now. While she was a devoted and competent boarder, it was obvious to everyone that Tash’s enthusiasm and speed supplemented a lack of technique and control. Rich was surprised; he’d always considered Tash an extremely good boarder. She was gutsy and tireless. But he had to admit she looked clumsy in comparison to Jayne. He shook his head. It was a harmless comparison, one he’d made subconsciously, but he didn’t like it.
Ted, Kate and Lloyd set off down the slope, too. They skied past, through and next to one another with a quiet, steady confidence that was a result of their learning and skiing together for years. Mia watched them go, a little bit of her wishing that she hadn’t taken up Rich’s offer to teach her to board. She hated learning anything new. Learning something, by definition, meant that you weren’t very good at it.