by Roz Marshall
Jude looked at the clock above the door. She shouldn't be in classes yet. "I could try phoning her." At times like this, Allan's spoiling of his only child by giving her a mobile phone at thirteen years old actually seemed like a good idea.
Lachie glanced at the clock and then his postbag, which he'd dropped by the door when they came in. He patted her arm. "I'll go and deliver these last few letters, give you a bitty privacy. I'll pop back in once I'm finished, see what…" he floundered, "see what she said."
She nodded. "Thanks, Lachie."
After he'd gone out, she sat and stared at the phone for a minute, guilt staying her hand.
When Jean had mentioned New Zealand, her first thought had been, not of Allan, but that something had happened to Mike. I'm such a terrible wife. How can I have forgotten our marriage vows so quickly? Her breath caught in her throat as she recalled what those vows said, and she picked up the phone and dialled Lucy's number with trembling fingers.
-::-
New Zealand
As soon as Mike pushed open the door of the shop, Robert was off and running. "Mike, I'm not having this, we'll have to contest the will, it's just not right," he looked at his wife for support, "is it, Lauren?"
It's just as well there're no customers in. Mike held up a hand. "There's no need to do that—"
"Oh, but there is. This is our livelihood you're talking about. This is what we do. And you have to fight for what you care for, I've always believed that."
Mike held up the other hand. "I hear you." He smiled at them both. "And I'm really pleased that you care about the business so much. I've got a proposal for you, which I think you'll like."
Scotland
JUDE SETTLED HERSELF back on the hard wooden bench and tried to contain her curiosity.
When Forbes had phoned that morning, it was yet another strange occurrence in a day of bizarre happenings. He'd probably heard the 'news', like everyone else seemed to have, but asking to buy her lunch at the ski area café seemed like a strange way to offer his condolences, even if 'business' was Forbes' middle name and Allan was actually okay.
Forbes set down a laden tray. "It's chicken soup, today," he said in the clipped voice that made her think of parade grounds and mess halls. "And coronation chicken sandwiches." He shook his head. "You'd think they could be more inventive. I must have a word with the chef." As ski area manager, he had fingers in many pies. Literally, sometimes.
"Don't worry, that's fine," said Jude, "chicken is lovely."
He sat down opposite her. "First of all, Jude, let me say how sorry I am for your loss." He steepled his fingers. "I didn't know Allan very well, but he seemed to be an excellent chap."
Jude held up her hand. "Forbes, let me stop you there. There's been a terrible misunderstanding; nothing's wrong with Allan. I'm sorry if you've been misled."
"Nothing's wrong with Allan?"
"No, I'm afraid Lucy heard about an avalanche in New Zealand and got herself convinced that her father had been caught in it — you know what teenagers can be like." She raised her palms. "And then the word got round the village and suddenly everyone is offering me their sympathy. I was totally confused, until I discovered what had happened."
"Ah! Well, of course, that's good news," said Forbes, without any sign of relief. He busied himself setting out their lunch and tidying away the tray. "Tuck in," he said, motioning at the soup, "before it gets cold."
Obediently, she took a sip of the broth.
Forbes cleared his throat. "What I wanted to talk to you about today — it may no longer be relevant, if Allan is returning — is whether you'd consider selling the land behind your shop in White Cairns?"
"The paddock?" Jude frowned. The patch of land was so insignificant she'd almost forgotten they owned it. "Why would you want that? It's just scrub ground." When Lucy had been a child, they'd considered buying her a pony and grazing it behind the shop. But she'd got into snowboarding rather than horse-riding, so the land had gone unused.
"Yes," he said, "the small field." There was a pause as he took a spoonful of soup, and Jude found herself fascinated by how he somehow managed to avoid getting soup in his bristly moustache. "I want to start a business doing Segway tours of the area — for the tourists, of course — and I need a spot of land to store the equipment and let the punters get the hang of the vehicles before we take them further afield." He waved his spoon in the air, as if to illustrate his point. "Of course I'd need to lay some tarmac and build a shed, so that would limit how much I'm able to offer for the land."
Jude's curiosity was piqued. Perhaps this would alleviate some of her money worries for the summer. "Can I ask how much you were thinking of?"
He dropped his voice, and named a four-figure sum which wouldn't let her retire to a yacht in the Bahamas, but would keep them going for a month or two.
She nodded slowly. "That's very interesting, Forbes." She took another sip of her soup. "Let me think on it for a few days. I'll let you know."
-::-
New Zealand
Over supper, they hashed out the details of the deal.
Lauren would run the business on Mike's behalf and take all the profits it made. Mike would still own the fabric of the buildings, but to all intents and purposes, the business would belong to his sister. If he ever needed or wanted to sell, he'd give them first refusal and at least six month's notice.
Lauren seemed pleased by the proposal, and Robert was full of plans and schemes — some fanciful, some potentially fruitful, and some downright foolish — but Mike just let him talk. Most of it was just bravado and bluster, and his ideas would probably fall by the wayside when there was actual work involved.
Later, when Robert had gone through to watch TV, leaving Mike to help Lauren with the washing-up, she turned to him and rested a sudsy hand on the side of the sink.
"I don't understand, Michael — it's very kind of you to give us the business, but why don't you want it for yourself? How can you afford just to hand it over?"
He stopped polishing a dinner plate and leaned back against the worktop. "Two reasons. One, my heart's not in it. I love to ski, I love to teach. That's what I want to be doing. And two," he shrugged, "I don't need the money; I earn enough for what I need."
Lauren glanced in the direction of the lounge, then dropped her eyes. "You're lucky. It never seems to be enough for Robert."
He put a hand on her arm. "I'm handing the business over to you, Lauren, did you notice that, not to both of you?" She looked up at him. "I wanted to give you some security, some options. You'll run it as a couple, but it'll be your name on the contracts." He looked her in the eye. "Don't forget that."
-::-
Scotland
Jude had intended to wait until dinner to confront Lucy about the avalanche story. However, one look at her daughter's face when she arrived home from school convinced Jude that there was no point in waiting — she looked like she was wound up tight enough to shatter into tiny pieces.
"Come through to the kitchen," she said; a guiding hand on Lucy's back giving her no real option.
Jude sat her down at the kitchen table and busied herself making a pot of tea. Without looking at Lucy, she said, "Now, you said on the phone that you heard about an avalanche in New Zealand and that things just snowballed from there?"
"Yeah, kinda."
She placed a glass of juice on the table in front of her daughter and sat down beside her, clutching a piping-hot mug of tea. "Would you like a biscuit?"
Lucy glanced quickly at her, as if surprised by this olive branch. She nodded.
Jude jumped up and returned with a packet of digestive biscuits. "But I don't understand, Lucy, why would you say your father had died in the avalanche?"
"Because I wish—" Lucy started to say, then clammed up. She pulled a biscuit from the packet and started to break it into tiny pieces.
Jude's mouth went dry. "You wish he had?" she finished for her.
Lucy's silence was an answer i
n itself.
Jude picked up the girl's hand and held it tightly within her own. "Lucy, why would you say something like that?" Her heart was pounding again, and she was sure that Lucy would be able to hear it. But Lucy just averted her eyes and shook her head. "Has someone at school been bullying you or something?"
That made Lucy turn to look at her, and Jude saw that her eyes were wet. "No, it's not that…" A tear started to trickle down Lucy's cheeks, and Jude felt her heart melt. Whatever had happened, Lucy was still her only child, and very precious to her. She opened her arms and Lucy dissolved into her embrace.
A few minutes and a number of damp tissues later, Lucy's sobs had subsided, and she sat up. "Mum," she started, then bit her lip in a way that reminded Jude of herself.
"Yes?" Jude said, in as encouraging a voice as she could muster.
"Remember the ski school race the other week?"
Jude nodded. Where is this going?
"Remember Dad phoned me just before the race?"
Jude remembered only too well. Allan's interruption had made Lucy miss her start and they'd lost the snowboard race. It was only Ben's racing prowess, Mike's team tactics and a hefty dose of luck that had allowed them to finally win overall.
"Well," she bit her lip again and looked up at her mother with troubled eyes. "Just before he put the phone down, I heard a woman's voice in the background."
Relief flooded Jude. Is that all that's bothering her? "Oh, he was probably just in a restaurant, somewhere. It's usually noisy when he phones me, too."
"No, Mum," Lucy explained patiently, "it was the middle of the night — I checked the time difference with Mike." She looked at her hands. "And I heard her say — she said — when was he coming back to bed, or something like that."
She stared at Lucy. It felt like all the breath had left her body at the same time, and the whole world had turned to black and white around her. "Y—you're sure?" she managed to stammer, finally.
Lucy looked at her mother and nodded, her eyes filling with tears again.
Jude felt her own eyes start to brim, and she ran the back of her forefinger under her eyelashes.
"I'm so sorry, Mum," said Lucy, a fat tear running down the side of her nose, "I didn't know whether to tell you or not."
This time it was Lucy who held her arms open for a hug, and Jude was unsure who was comforting who the most.
But, once the emotions subsided, she became sure of one thing — that her suspicions had been correct. Allan was probably never coming back.
In some ways, it was a huge relief to her that the uncertainty was removed. I'll just have to make it on my own, then, she thought, and then realised that she'd already been doing just that, for the last three months. Longer, actually, if you counted the time since Allan had left for New Zealand, rather than from the start of the ski season.
She nodded to herself. I can do this. Her resolve hardened. I will do this. I'll show him!
Saturday 4th March
New Zealand
LAUREN PLACED MIKE'S ski bag on the ground and checked the timetable printed on the bus stop. She looked at her watch. "It should be here in five minutes."
Mike nodded and dropped his rucksack onto the pavement beside the ski bag.
"I still don't understand why you're going to Queenstown, though? There's plenty good skiing up here."
He looked northwards for a moment before turning to her. "It's not for the skiing. It was something Robert said, actually, about fighting for what you care for."
She looked at him quizzically.
"There's something," he stopped himself, and glanced up the road again before continuing, "someone I care about that I need to fight for." He adjusted his shades. "So that's what's taking me to Coronet Peak."
She nodded slowly and seemed about to say something else, when they heard the mechanical thrum of the intercity coach thundering down the highway towards them.
Mike picked up his rucksack and gave her a shoulder hug. "Thanks, sis."
She kissed his cheek. "No, thank you. Thanks for the shop," she looked up at him, "and everything."
The bus pulled in with a loud hiss of air brakes, and he nodded, swinging his ski bag over his shoulder.
Lauren raised her eyebrows. "I hope she's worth fighting for?"
Mike stepped onto the bus, then turned back to her with a smile. "She is." He raised a hand. "Bye, sis."
She gave him a thumbs-up. "Cheerio, Michael. And good luck!"
-::-
Scotland
As Ben drilled in the last few slalom poles, he found himself scanning the hill, looking to see if Neil and Trudy had arrived yet. Then he remembered Neil's coffee habit and checked his watch. There's time for a brew. Good.
In the café, he saw Neil's face light up when he noticed Ben arriving. There's something different about him, today. It took Ben a minute, then he realised that Neil was clean-shaven; he'd forsaken his usual designer stubble. But, Ben noticed, he'd retained his pencil-thin sideburns. "Hi, Trudy," he said to the girl. "Got an interview?" he asked Neil.
Neil frowned.
Ben stroked his chin pointedly. "You're looking a bit smarter than usual."
"Oh," Neil shrugged, "I woke up early. Had more time than I usually do."
"Back in a minute — I'll just get a cuppa."
"We already got you one!" said Trudy, indicating a white mug on the table in front of her.
"Och — thanks!" Ben sat down on her left and tasted the tea. "You even remembered my sugar. Well done!"
"That wasn't me, it was Neil," said Trudy.
Ben raised his mug in Neil's direction. "Cheers."
"Just the people I wanted to speak to," said a lugubrious voice beside them. Ben looked up into the hang-dog face of Ed Griffiths.
"How can we help?" asked Neil, politely.
Ed jerked his chin at Ben."I've heard you're running race training today? For the charity."
Ben nodded. "Aye." Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Callum entering the café.
"And you're the appointed representative of the charity, Mr Crane?" Ed looked pointedly at Neil.
Where's he going with this?
"Yes," said Neil.
Ed addressed his next comments at Neil. "Well, as you know, Mr Crane, I'm the race coach appointed by the Ski Development Trust in the Cairns ski area. So I think that we — Ski-Easy," he indicated the logo on his fluorescent-green jacket, "should be running the race training. Not White Cairns."
Ben felt his heart sink. No race training? He wouldn't get to work with Trudy anymore. He darted a glance across the table. And he wouldn't get to ski with Neil again.
"I think you should get your facts straight before you come stirring things up of a morning," said an amused voice behind him.
"What're you talking about?" spluttered Ed, rounding on Callum. "I won the coach thing fair and square."
"Did you? So it was just a coincidence that immediately afterwards you were buying Vicki Ingram a slap-up meal and then disappearing off who-knows-where with her once you'd eaten?"
As Ed's mouth opened and closed wordlessly, Ben thought that he was doing a good impersonation of a goldfish.
"And," continued Callum, "the trust awarded the race training contract to Jude long before the coach development scheme started. So they're unrelated." Ed looked like he was about to say something, but Callum held up a finger imperiously.
For a small bloke, he sure has balls, thought Ben.
"And finally," said Callum, in a voice that brooked no argument, "it's a coach development scheme. To develop you into a coach. You're no more a race coach right now than I am. Ben's the best-qualified of all of us, actually, because at least he's pitched-up at the top of the Hahnenkamm and made it to the bottom in one piece." He raised an eyebrow and glanced at Ben. "Mostly."
Ed huffed and spluttered, but appeared to have no answer to this, so he turned on his heel and stomped out.
"Thanks, Callum," smiled Ben, realising that the
feeling of dread had lifted.
"Callum," Neil asked, "what was that you said about seeing Ed with Vicki?"
Callum shrugged. "The night after the coach training I saw them having a meal in The Skean Dhu. I don't know if they left together, I just made that bit up — but he didn't deny it, did he?"
Neil's eyes narrowed and he twirled the tiny gold hoop in his ear. "Thanks, Callum," he said, distractedly.
NEIL SLIPPED HIS mobile phone into his pocket and couldn't help smiling to himself. Ben's going to like this!
He took the tows up the hill and skied over to the race piste, where he spotted Ben by the start gate, leaning on his ski poles and watching the trainees.
When Ben noticed Neil, he stood up with a welcoming grin. "Is that you arrived for the back shift?"
Neil grinned back and ignored the jibe. "I've got some good news."
"What gives?"
"I just spoke to the boss and told him about Ed and Vicki."
Ben's eyes widened.
"We can't do anything about Ed getting the training, as that would be going against Vicki's judgement, but," Neil couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto his face, "he agreed to my recommendation that you be co-opted onto the coaching scheme."
Ben didn't reply immediately, and hunched over his poles again, staring at the ground. "Uh, thanks, Neil, it's really kind of you to do that."
Neil could hear the 'but' screaming down the hill like a banshee in a blizzard.
"But I haven't decided yet whether to carry on with teaching or go back to racing." He shrugged apologetically. "Sorry."
Disappointment deflated Neil like a punctured football, but he tried not to let it show. "Well, you need to stop prevaricating then, and phone your trainer. Find out where you stand."
-::-
Neil set the pint glasses down on the dark-varnished table and cursed when beer slopped from one of them and ran down to soak into the beermat.
Ben grabbed his drink and took a long draught, smacking his lips appreciatively and setting the glass back down. "How come you're not rushing back to Dundee tonight, then?"