by Sue Watson
‘No, no, no. You’re not playing the “I’ll be fine game”, with us,’ Kate piped up. ‘You have major issues, Jen… the nursery sent me on a counselling course last October – trust me, I know about these things.’
‘Thank you, Sigmund Freud, but I don’t have issues… all I want to do is sleep. I’m tired from the flight and stressed about losing my suitcase… and I’m absolutely exhausted after my ridiculous collapse tonight.’
‘Ladies, I think we should take it in turns to keep Jen awake… let’s all camp out in the living room tonight,’ Kate kindly piped up.
‘That’s a great idea,’ Jody said, clapping her hands together excitedly. ‘We’ll pretend we’re back in the Brownies and toast marshmallows on the fire and sit round telling each other ghost stories.’
And so, until 5 a.m. (when they dropped off, leaving me to my fate after all) I was kept awake with stories of decapitated ghosts in forests, zombies under beds and chains that rattled on their own – and those are just the ones I can remember. I quite enjoyed myself, and after a while I forgot I had to be up early for work – I just laughed along and even told my own scary stories. I felt like a little kid again – in a good way (to quote Jody).
I finally dropped off about 5.30 a.m. which was why, when the door of our chalet was knocked at 8 a.m. and I opened it to Jon, my gorgeous blue-eyed rescuer from the previous evening, I looked and felt like I was recovering from a fight. I was also still sporting a pink furry all-in-one and a bobble hat and a negligee, with my eyes ringed in black mascara and sleeplessness.
‘Oh I… didn’t expect to see you,’ I started. ‘I don’t usually dress like this for bed – I just didn’t want to die in the night.’
‘Do you always dress like this so you don’t die… in the night?’ He was gesturing at the sequins across my chest and looked understandably confused.
‘No… it’s okay. I’m okay – I’m alive,’ I said in a silly voice which made me wave my hands in the air, and I immediately felt very stupid.
‘Good, I feel all the guilt about last night.’
I looked at him quizzically. Had I missed something that had occurred between us to cause this guilt? Surely I wasn’t that drunk?
‘You fainted because I kept you talking outside in the cold. It’s all my fault. I couldn’t sleep so I asked reception where you were staying and I came to see if you are okay.’
‘That’s very kind of you, but it’s not your fault at all – in effect, you saved me. I was about to head off into the white unknown. It was only because you took me back into the club that I didn’t die in the snow.’ I always rambled when I was nervous, and given there was a slight ‘lost in translation’ element, I had to stop before I said something that might be misconstrued. He looked confused – it was either the language barrier or my insanity – so I tried to seem calm and normal and in the absence of words we both stood in the doorway in awkward silence, me on the inside, him on the outside in the snow.
‘Would you like to come in?’ I asked, not sure what was going on here.
He shook his head.
‘I start work in the coffee shop today. You must pop over and I’ll buy you a coffee to thank you for saving me,’ I heard myself say. I still found him incredibly attractive, even when sober and in the cold light of morning. He nodded, but perhaps he was just being nice?
‘And you ski today?’ he asked.
I nodded my head vigorously. I’d never skied in my life, and I certainly hadn’t planned to take to the slopes on my first full day in Switzerland, but I wanted to impress this beautiful man.
‘Yes, I’ll probably swing by the piste later,’ I said, trying to sound casual. ‘I love to ski,’ I added unnecessarily.
‘Ah yes.’ He smiled and his eyes went a bit dreamy, which was nice to watch. ‘It is the most beautiful feeling in the world… I love the rush – I think that’s what you call it. The white mountains, the pure air, the absolute freedom, like all your worries flow away out of your body as you leave them behind, moving faster and faster away.’
I was slightly mesmerised by this description, and the way he moved his lips, and the way his eyes caught fire as he spoke of the mountains. When he stopped we were both standing in thick, snowy silence, and I was aware I was still gazing from his eyes to his mouth, which must have seemed a little odd.
I composed myself and focussed, only to see he was looking directly at my chest, which was a bit much even for a snowy Adonis. Everyone is so forward with the opposite sex these days, I thought, sounding about ninety-five years old, then realised he wasn’t actually weighing up my breasts but trying to decipher the message across them inviting the onlooker to ‘Come and get it – it’s HOT!’
‘It’s not mine,’ I said.
‘You wear other people’s clothes all the time?’ he asked. ‘Last night you were wearing your sister’s shirt…’
‘Yes, well no, well you see my case got lost and is probably somewhere in Europe by now and… anyway, what were we saying?’ I said, covering my chest with my arms.
‘Skiing… we were talking about the skiing…’
‘Ah yes, I love to ski…’ I lied.
Stupid, I know, but I didn’t want him to know I’d never been skiing because it seemed like it was everything to him. I wanted to reach out to this lovely guy with the beautiful eyes who’d been so worried about me he’d found out where I was staying and taken the trouble to find out if I was okay.
‘I hope you wear the warm clothes for skiing.’ He smiled. ‘You must wear the sensible clothing on the piste.’
‘Yep, don’t worry, I’m quite the ski bum…’ I was trying to fill the silence with my noise and immediately regretted the comment.
‘Bum?’ He was now looking at me confused.
‘No, no…’ This was beginning to feel like a bad sitcom so I brought proceedings to a halt before I could confuse or offend him further.
‘I’m just keen to get going on those slopes.’ This was followed by an exaggerated mime of me skiing. Why?
‘You are funny. You make me laugh,’ he said, moving to leave.
‘Oh… thanks.’ I was a little nonplussed. I would rather have enthralled him with sex appeal and sophistication, but given my performance and my costume, I’d have to take ‘funny’ I suppose.
I thanked him again for checking on me and he nodded and headed off through the snow. He turned once to wave and I waved back, unable to stop smiling as I watched him disappear into infinite whiteness. Someone like him wouldn’t look at me, but I couldn’t help but wonder just what kind of woman would be able to capture his heart. I must have been miles away and was suddenly aware of someone standing behind me; a waft of French perfume and the rustle of silk told me it was Lola.
‘He’s cute,’ she said.
‘Oh he’s way out of my league – he’s gorgeous.’
‘Stop that. You can have anyone you want, Jen. I could have said that about any of the A-listers I’ve bedded,’ she sighed. ‘But I didn’t. I said “I’m fabulous, and if you don’t think so then I’m not interested.”’
She looked at me, waiting for me to say something.
‘Jen, you’re fabulous.’
‘Okay, perhaps I’m just a little bit fabulous.’ I smiled, sipping the coffee she handed me.
‘That’ll do for starters,’ she said, and I gazed out of the window, holding my warm mug close, imagining Jon walking towards me in the snow, a twinkle in his eye and mistletoe in his hand.
Chapter 5
Cows on Skis and Coffee Shop Kardashians
‘So, everyone, don’t forget, our skiing lesson is booked for this afternoon when we’ve finished work – if we can all meet at the ski lodge we can take it from there,’ Jody was saying as she emptied a box of cereal into a large bowl.
‘Look, girls,’ I started. I was about to make a million excuses why I couldn’t ski, but then I thought about Jon and how he’d said it was the most beautiful feeling in the world and I thought, w
hy not? It’s something I’d always wanted to do and we were in Switzerland in a ski resort so it kind of made sense.
‘The idea is that we’ll all go skiing after work and just get acclimatised.’
‘As long as you don’t mind me tagging along… I can’t ski and you’re all friends and have done it before,’ I said.
‘And you are my sister,’ Jody said, and it meant everything to me. I suddenly felt sad for all the years we had missed out on doing simple things like this. We would have had such fun if only I’d been more open to the idea of a sister. I wish I’d been able to see her in a different light, as an ally and a friend rather than an imposter trying to usurp my place.
‘Sorry I gave you and your mum a bit of a hard time,’ I said, putting my arm around her. ‘I didn’t mean it. I wished we’d spent more time together now.’
‘Oh it was a long time ago, Jen. I was in awe of you – I never expected much so if you deigned to take me to the park or buy me some sweets, I was made up.’
‘Did Dad ever say anything to you, when he died,’ I said. ‘Your mum called our house to say he’d gone… she said my name was on his lips but… I put the phone down on her. I was such an idiot at seventeen.’
‘His death was tough. I remember his empty bed in the living room, all his pills lined up waiting to be taken. I remember asking Mum why they hadn’t made him better. I was only eight, but I knew this was more than just being unwell. Jen… he wanted to see you, he always wanted to see you.’
‘No, he didn’t. Mum said he had his new family now – “bright and shiny”, she always said. “We’re old and rusty now, Jen,” she’d say, and she’d cry and I’d plan to ask him to come home next time I saw him… but I rarely did. He let me down so often, Jody.’
She was shaking her head. ‘He didn’t, Jen. Dad came to see you so many times and was either turned away at the door or you and your mum weren’t in.’
‘Really?’ I’d never realised and the thought almost destroyed me. So much going on behind the scenes – adults fighting and scoring, but no one thinking of the casualties, the children. What a terrible waste of time and lost moments we could have shared, and I could have been part of the family I always wanted.
‘I do appreciate you suggesting I come here and including me in everything,’ I said. ‘I feel so lucky to have you, Jody. You’re all I’ve got now, and you could so easily have refused to have anything to do with me.’
‘Jen, I told you – you’re my sis… and that’s all that matters. Everything else is water under the bridge.’
Jody was right – the past was the past and I had to move on, from my parents’ break-up and my own failed relationship. Now I was ready to take on new challenges, taste different things and meet new people.
Part of this renaissance wasn’t just emotional – it could be physical too, so why not try a new sport? Talking to Jon and pretending I could ski had made me think about the sensation of flying down a mountain, my hair behind me, the sun in my face, cold, fresh air in my lungs. I’d seen skiing on the TV. It was exhilarating to watch, and I could only imagine how exciting it would be to try.
‘I’m looking forward to skiing.’ I smiled. ‘Count me in.’
Jody gave my arm a little squeeze. ‘You’ll love it – and I’m so happy that you’re stepping out of your comfort zone, Jen.’
‘Yeah, I know, and I can’t wait to have a go on skis. I want to see the little gingerbread houses from above and take lots of photos so I can make them into Christmas cards.’
‘That’s good, but please don’t try to take snaps while you’re actually coming down the slopes, and Jen… it’s not just about pretty pictures – enjoy the moment and be in it, won’t you?’
I looked at her, puzzled. I’d just told her I wanted to ski, that I was looking forward to it – of course I would enjoy the moment.
‘I mean, don’t be fixating on how it should be – taking pictures, planning to use them as Christmas cards for next Christmas! Just be here now – when you’re up there in all that wonderful white stuff you need to relax, let yourself go… don’t be looking at little Swiss chalets and wondering how you can replicate them in gingerbread.’
I laughed, but what she’d said struck a chord. She was right – I was always trying to take photos, frame the moment, but now it was time to live in it.
‘Sometimes you just don’t get it – you don’t have to go stalking Christmas; if you just stop a minute, sometimes it finds you. A bit like love.’
What she said made sense. ‘Listen to you, being all knowing. I’m impressed by how profound and insightful my little sister is without the alcohol and the crazy clothes,’ I said.
‘Yeah, well, don’t judge a book by its cover – as a librarian you should know that.’ She giggled. ‘Just because I have a good time and let my hair down, it doesn’t mean I’m stupid and incapable of philosophy or analytical thought,’ she said. ‘Though Dad always said you were the clever one!’
‘Did he?’
‘Yeah. He was always saying “our Jenny’s read that book” or “our Jenny got all As in her exams”.’
I was quite touched by what she said, and even more moved to know my dad had spoken about me. I never knew he thought of me as ‘the clever one’, and I liked to think I had a place in his life, his heart.
‘Yes, and for someone so clever, you don’t half cock things up,’ she said, laughing. ‘All those Christmases when you’ve spent a fortune and so much time on getting things right – that’s all about the moment too, love. So stop stalking Christmas!’ She laughed again.
I’d thought Jody had been too obsessed with her own life to be aware of my catalogue of Christmas catastrophes over the years. I’d told her about them all but I’d never been sure she really took it in. But she had and not only that – she’d put them all together into one group with the heading ‘Christmas Disappointments’. As a librarian I suppose I should have cross-referenced those Christmases and seen the writing on the wall. I liked things neat and perfect, labelled and in their place, yet all my Christmases since I’d met Tim had been a let-down. It’s the time of year when all your hopes and dreams congeal into one and when they’re unceremoniously spat on by the person you love, it can be tough to get back from that. Perhaps Jody was right? I should embrace the season, wear the onesie and go looking for Christmas.
‘Get those udders on then… we should be mooooving or we’ll be late for work!’ Jody laughed.
‘Are you sure about me wearing this in the coffee shop?’ I asked.
‘Yesss, it’s Onesie Day – everyone on the resort will be wearing one, Jen.’
What choice did I have? Apart from a little boy’s T-shirts, pyjamas and Rudolph jumpers, I had no other clothes. My new ski suit was somewhere on the outskirts of France now, according to reception, who had kindly called me with this non information earlier. And here was my half-sister, who I wanted to bond with, handing this to me as a gift – how could I refuse? Also I didn’t want to be the odd one out at the resort if all the other staff were wearing onesies to work. So against all my instincts I donned the pink and white furry cow onesie with the bovine face and the velvet udders – which, to my utter horror, swayed as I walked!
The coffee shop was lovely and looked like a gingerbread house standing there in the snow, twinkly lights round the window, a wreath on the door. It could have been a shop in a little, snowy village, but opening the door I saw the inside was very plastic and modern, which was disappointing really. A woman a little older than me stood behind the counter. She looked chic in a black shirt and smart trousers and was smiling as she told me they weren’t quite open yet.
‘Oh, I was told to be here for nine thirty,’ I said. ‘I’m Jennifer Barker – I’m here to work.’
She looked a little taken aback, which for a nanosecond surprised me, and then I realised she was looking at my udders.
‘Oh, you came as a cow?’ she said, straight-faced.
‘Yes, I was told
… it’s International Onesie Day…’
‘By whom?’
‘My… sister?’
‘Ah well, I bow to her superior knowledge – it’s the first I’ve heard of this international day of onesie celebration. Quick, I must don my cat costume before I look silly.’
I was deeply embarrassed and wanted to kill Jody for her misinformation – I should have known.
‘Oh… I’m sorry. It’s just that my sister and her friends, they’re all wearing them…’
She half-smiled. ‘Sometimes the guests have onesie days and the staff join in, but we’re the coffee shop, we have a uniform. I’m Maxine by the way.’ She held out her manicured hand and my huge great cow hoof rose up and attempted a handshake.
I was actually relieved to hear there was a uniform, because this woman was not ready for my daywear taken from a suitcase full of boys’ T-shirts and comedy pyjamas. I felt so foolish standing there like bloody Ermintrude, but Maxine, who turned out to be an ex-stewardess from Barnsley, suddenly laughed out loud. ‘I’m sorry, you just look so… funny.’
I shrugged, which must have made me look even funnier.
‘I don’t have your uniform yet so just wear that today, but on the plus side, the kids will love being served by a cow.’ She walked from behind the counter to join me. I could imagine her on a flight, elegantly serving drinks and flogging perfume – she looked all glamour, but the voice said salt of the earth. ‘Now the most important thing you have to remember every morning is…’ she started, hands on hips.
I took out my notebook (I’d stowed it in the cow’s stomach region); I may have turned up to my first day at work dressed as a big, furry cow, but I was determined to do this properly and be the perfect coffee-shop employee. I couldn’t mess this up.
‘Yes, you really should make a detailed note of what I’m about to say, it’s the most important aspect of your working day,’ Maxine said, a slightly stern edge entering her voice. My heart sank slightly. I hoped she wasn’t going to be a tyrannical boss – after the year I’d had, it was the last thing I needed.