Shit.
The slope seemed far steeper than it had from above in the chairlift, but she had to get to the children. Emme was gaining speed and felt frightened. She tried to remember what Tom said, when they went skiing in Wolf Creek. Not as fancy as Aspen but she’d spent two days building up the courage to go down a blue run and under Tom’s tutelage she had managed– although not loved– it. She placed a pole on the snow to try to slow herself down but it dragged behind her. Were it not for the loop on her wrist, she would have lost it.
‘Kids!’ Emme yelled. ‘Stop and wait!’
Fuck.
Emme remembered a tip Tom had given her back in Colorado. One he reminded her of the morning after the wedding, while Emme was helping Tom’s father and sister take down the flowers and decorations in the church. She had just told him she was moving to the Alps for a season. He’d only got wind of her plan to become a nanny two nights ago and now she was moving to Switzerland. Tom laughed and asked if she were serious. Emme tried not to cry, and he realised she was.
‘Wow Em, that’s wild. You don’t even like skiing.’
‘I’m going to learn to love it,’ she said, puffing her chest out a little.
‘We’re going to miss our flight!’ Chrissy urged from thechurch doors, sunglasses on, Mulberry bag slung over her elbow. Tom ignored her, and looked at Emme, a lingering sadness behind his hungover eyes.
‘Remember: always ski into the mountain.’ He diffused the tension with a conspiratorial smile.
‘Tom!’ Chrissy snapped again. ‘Oh, hi Emme,’ she said, noticing Emme clearing up the detritus of her wedding.
Now she remembered his words, while she was whizzing, losing control, reaching a perilous speed. She wished Tom were here now. Or did she?
Always ski into the mountain.
What did that even mean?
The dots of the children were getting smaller. The light was fading. It was heading for 4pm on a Monday in November, Lexy would be checking the BUZZ app and fretting.
‘Kids!’ Emme bellowed.
Suddenly the piste got narrower and even steeper, with skiers flying past from behind Emme on both sides.
Seemingly everyone was trying to get back to the village before the slopes closed. Emme was sweating. She felt both boiling hot and freezing cold, as she hurtled now, towards the piste’s edge.
I’m going to break a bone.
I’m going to plummet over.
I can’t see Harry and Bella.
‘FUCKKKKKKKK!’
Emme threw herself to one side in a violent thrust, which took one of her skis off as she came to a halt. Her errant ski teetered on the slope’s steep edge.
‘Shit shit shit!’ she threw her poles down in frustrationbut they wouldn’t come off her wrists. She started to cry. At least she had stopped hurtling at a frightening velocity. And she didn’t appear to have broken a leg. She could move. She sat up and narrowed her eyes. She could see Harry in red and Bella in pink, now motionless dots at the bottom of the piste– they were waiting for her, thank god.
I have to get to them.
Yet she knew there would be another three or four pistes after this one. Some steeper, perhaps.
‘Hey!’ she bellowed, raising a pole, checking the kids knew where she was. Harry raised one back. ‘Wait there!’ Emme shouted in her loudest voice. She looked up– the mostly empty chairlift continued its gentle hum. Chairs coming up, chairs going down. She was shocked to see one of the chairs had a couple in it, casually heading downwards. She didn’t know youcouldgo down in the chairlift.
Fuck.
Emme sobbed as she tried to stand, wondering how she would retrieve her delinquent ski. Her face was cold, she had snow down the back of her neck and the overpowering smell of other people’s sweat in her ski helmet made her want to be sick.
‘Fucking hate this,’ she snarled to herself.
‘Well perhaps you’d let me help you then…’ said a calm, low voice.
