‘Yes!’ said an American woman in the same whiteembossed Louis Vuitton helmet as Emme. ‘I see it!’ She sounded enchanted.
An Irish man spoke.
‘Is it always pink?’
‘No sir, and it’s really barely pink now. Later in the day you get what we call “alpenglow”– it only happens at the right time, in the right conditions.’
‘Wow,’ marvelled the woman.
‘It hits best just after sunset, or just before sunrise, when the sunlight has no direct route to the mountain, and it’s reflected off ice crystals and particles in the atmosphere. It’s mild now, but if anyone wants to get up super early with me tomorrow, we can.’
The novice group looked less enthusiastic at the prospect of skiing in the dark.
But Emme wanted to go with him.
Tristan looked up as the chairlift started up again, and recognised Emme from her new lilac outfit and white helmet.
‘Hey!’ he waved a pole skyward.
She waved a gloved hand, as casually as she could, somewhat embarrassed to be caught by him again, concerned he was going to think she was following him or something.
‘Want to join us?’ he called up helpfully. ‘They’re all newbies!’
‘No, it’s OK thanks!’ It was so dismally embarrassing skiing in front of him the first time, even though she had improved, she didn’t want to have to do it again.
At the top of the chairlift Emme glided off it feeling rather proud of herself for managing it, and thought that ifTristan’s party of beginners could do that blue slope, so could she, especially if she heeded the technique and the advice of Tristan and Milla in her head. And she did it. Cautiously so, but she managed to snake down the mountain, making S-shaped turns both to the right and the left, and feeling proud of her control, even if her knuckles were white in her gloves clutching the poles. She even noticed Tristan’s tracks, his figures and turns, and followed them, feeling they were a safe bet– knowing that he was nothing of the sort.
Emme got to the bottom and wanted to punch the air she was so pleased with herself, but instead she took a selfie to send home. She sent it to Cat too. Emme in front of the Silberschnee, turning pinker by the minute. This place was so fucking Instagrammable.
As Emme put her phone away, Tristan’s group lapped her and he skied over to her, almost kicking snow up in a fan. He stopped with a smile and put his goggles onto his helmet. His brown eyes gleamed in the light. The secrecy of last night’s kiss making them both smile.
‘Wow, you’ve come a long way! Blue slopes on your own!’
‘Thanks.’ She wasn’t sure if he sounded patronising or proud of her, but she settled on the positive.
‘Want to join us for one last loop?’
‘I’m OK, I should get back to town.’
‘Come on, show me how far you’ve come.’
They held each other’s eye as the largest man in the party, a wine buyer from India, slammed into the back of Tristan and he in turn almost knocked Emme off her feet.
‘Yeesh!’ Tristan said, looking a little annoyed, his strongbrow furrowed as he held Emme tight with both arms, almost in a clinch. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
Emme nodded.
‘Yes, thanks.’
Tristan shook his head then remembered his manners. The buyer, Shivam Masrani, was the sommelier to a Maharajah in Maheshwar, and he had a lot of money to spend on Du Kok Estates.
‘Careful now,’ Tristan said, politely but sternly enough to let the man know he was a liability.
Masrani had been the clunkiest skier of the group. Shivam gruffed a little while Tristan untangled his ski tips from Emme’s.
‘One more slope?’ he asked the group as he stood up.
Everyone nodded.
