Grinning, he knocked the side of his nose with a finger. ‘That would be telling, now wouldn’t it? A man’s got to preserve a little of his mystique, hasn’t he?’ He looked at her for a moment, a frown momentarily crossing his face as if he were making a decision. Then he headed across the kitchen and returned with a sliver of cheese. He held it out for her to take.
She sampled it. ‘Mmm, that’s nice. What is it?’
‘It’s called Comte.’
‘That will be perfect for our cheese adventure,’ she said.
‘Cheese adventure. I like that.’
‘Well don’t tell me anything else about it,’ she said. ‘I want it to be a surprise.’
‘No problem,’ he said.
‘Is Tania around?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen her.’
Clara frowned. Tania’s skis and helmet were here, so she must have returned at some point. Perhaps she was just resting in her room. Perhaps she was in her room, but wasn’t resting … But there had been no sign of any strange skis in the locker, or boots in the boot room, no sign that anyone else was here. No sign that hot tub guy was here. Clara knew Tania was no angel, that a casual fling with a stranger wasn’t outside the realms of possibility, but she also knew that the whole experience with Rory Flannagan had caught her friend up short.
Clara hoped that particular lesson would be well learned. She wanted Tania to find someone special. Someone who deserved her. Someone who would love her bright, vivacious, kind friend for those qualities alone. Someone who would be strong enough to navigate Tania’s family without being swallowed up by their hype. Not just some silly Christmas fling with someone who would fill her brain and her bed for a few days but would ultimately use her identity for his own benefit.
Clara wanted her to find someone who meant as much to Tania as Mike meant to her.
The day she’d met Mike, Clara was in the supermarket. The confectionary aisle, to be precise. In a world of her own, she was searching the lines of sweets for a packet of jelly babies. Her hand closed around the final packet on the shelf and she straightened up to come face to face with a blond man, whose gaze was fixed on her packet of sweets. Turned out his mother also loved them, and that he was on his way to visit her as she recovered from an operation in the local hospital.
It spiked at her that he still had his mother, his obvious love mixed with concern for her clear in his eyes. She’d lost her own a number of years before and was in the process of losing her father to Alzheimer’s. Clara ended up letting him have the packet, and shortly afterwards, when he surprised her with a bag containing nothing but her favourite orange babies as a thank you, she let him have her heart, too.
To say that everything had been perfect from that day forwards wouldn’t be strictly true, like all relationships there had been challenges. But nothing had overwhelmed them or ripped them apart and with Poppy they’d completed their family. Noisy and laughing and messy and fun, the three of them a strong, impenetrable bubble that had given Clara a taste of how she’d always wanted her life to be. Vibrant and alive and very different to the quiet solitude and dusty hallways of her own childhood, with her invalid mother (now long gone) and aged father (who no longer recognised her when she visited him in the residential home) and their constant requests for her to be seen and not heard.
She knew she would never stop loving Mike even though he was gone. She didn’t think she ever could. And she wanted that feeling for Tania– without Tania ever having to experience the crushing sense of desolation which had accompanied Clara’s loss.
She sighed; she could feel that the spiralling blackness was back, creeping with long, gnarled fingers into the forefront of her brain. Squeezing tighter and tighter until she could think of nothing else but that void. Tom was looking at her strangely, it took her a moment to realise that what she’d thought was a sigh had in reality been a groan.
‘Are you OK?’ he said.
She sucked in a big breath. ‘I’m fine. Listen, forget the tea, I think I might open a bottle of something. What’s in the fridge?’
Chapter 12
Rose would happily have stayed in Près du Ciel centre all evening. Mostly because she was enjoying a bit of relaxed time with Madeleine, and because the atmosphere outside the little café/bar they’d settled at was fun. Part of her, though, also wanted to be where Lysander wasn’t, and chances were he’d be back at Snow Pine Lodge by now.
But it was clear Madeleine was ready to head back. The exertions of the past couple of days on the snow had taken their toll. She yawned, tried to hide it with the back of her hand and then apologised.
‘Poke me with a fork,’ Madeleine said. ‘Because I’m done.’
Rose grinned. ‘We can take the bus and walk the last bit back if you like,’ she said. ‘Or we can take the bubble to the first station and ski back.’ She checked her watch. ‘It’ll take about twenty minutes either way.’
Madeleine weighed up her options. ‘More skiing versus carrying skis. Hmmm.’
‘If we take the bubble, there’s a lovely blue run which twists gently back to the lodge. It’s really easy.’
‘At this stage in the game,’ Madeleine said, ‘easy is the only option I’m prepared to consider. Can we do that?’
Twenty minutes later, Rose sighted the post to indicate the cut-through to Snow Pine Lodge and pointed it out. Madeleine snowploughed to get her skis under control and followed. They slid as far along the track as their momentum allowed, then walked their skis the rest of the way.
‘My thighs are literally on fire,’ Madeleine said, unclipping her boots. ‘I’m so glad we’re back.’
Rose frowned but said nothing, hoping beyond hope Lysander wasn’t there. She didn’t want to have to deal with him, didn’t have the first clue what to say. Having run away from the situation last night, the relief had been palpable when she realised he’d already gone by the time she emerged from her room this morning. But it was unlikely she could avoid him completely.
