She was still stood there, phone against her ear, when the spell was broken by footsteps on the wooden stairs.
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
A male voice, with a Scottish burr edging the words. Clara swung around and pocketed her phone.
‘I thought you’d all gone out for the day. I popped back to set this up and get some prep done for tonight.’ The man dumped a small fir tree at the top of the stairs and turned off the tap Clara had forgotten she’d left running. He smiled at her. ‘I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Tom. I’m your chef for the week.’ He glanced at the tree. ‘Well, maybe chef and general festive dogsbody might be a better description.’
‘Oh, right. Hello. Bit of a slow start for me this morning, I’m afraid.’ Shrugging, she ignored the tree. ‘I’m Clara.’
He gestured towards the towel wrapped around her hand. ‘Anything I can help you with?’ His gaze flicked across the first-aid kit; its contents strewn along the freshly wiped-down work surface. Next to it sat the blood-soaked, dog-eared plaster she hadn’t got around to putting into the bin.
‘No. Thanks. I cut my hand, that’s all.’
‘I’ve done first-aid training,’ he said, then grinned. ‘Makes me sound like a total Boy Scout.’ He took a step in her direction. ‘Seriously, though. Let me look. Let me help patch you up.’
It’ll take a hell of a lot more than a plaster and a smile to patch me up, Clara thought.
When Tania reached the restaurant at which they’d agreed to meet for lunch, she could see Rose and Madeleine already seated at a table outside, discarded mugs in front of them. She slid to a stop, removed her skis and headed up the slope onto the wooden decking with a spring in her step. The snow on the highest runs had been superb, and she intended to head over to the glacier after lunch. It had been past eleven by the time they made it onto the slopes and although she had skied hard for an hour and a half it wouldn’t take long for her to feel the pent-up adrenalin again, as it alternated between warming her muscles and making them feel strangely numb. It had always been the same, ever since she was a kid.
The discomfort of awkward ski boots, which made everybody else moan and complain, only served to heighten Tania’s sense of excitement. Her muscle memory slotted nothing but positive emotions alongside the physical sensations. While others shifted uncomfortably under the weight and the hard lines of the skis propped against their shoulders on the first bubble lift ride of the day, it was all she could do not to yank the doors open and throw herself out, James Bond-style, to get first go at the powder between the trees below.
She glanced across at Madeleine– she had questioned the sense of inviting someone with no skiing experience on the trip. But Rose had been insistent. Madeleine was great fun, she’d said. She was willing to give skiing a go, apparently, and if it didn’t work out, would be equally happy to relax in the lodge instead. However, it looked as though Madeleine had survived her first few hours on the snow after all.
‘Have you eaten?’ Tania asked, shoving her gloves onto the table before removing her goggles and helmet. She slid them alongside the gloves and sank into a chair, running a hand through her hair and tipping her face towards the sun as she did so. Aching legs and cold cheeks, crystals of snow filling the clear air? Her idea of heaven.
‘Not yet. We thought we’d wait for you,’ Rose said.
Tania was on her feet again. ‘Come on then, let’s get in the queue. I don’t want to waste time.’ She headed for the entrance to the restaurant, the building a perfectly proportioned alpine chalet, constructed from huge and darkly seasoned whole timbers which gave the place an aura of overwhelming solidity. The kind of building that gave the feeling it had been here forever and would remain forever, regardless of the harsh nature of the mountain seasons.
The Cocoon was also one of the less pretentious of the mountain pit stops. Another reason it was one of Tania’s favourites. There was no doubt the restaurants positioned at the very tops of the bubble lifts and the cable car, on the crests of the mountains, commanded outrageously beautiful views. And the food served in them was delicious, often cordon bleu. But the prices they charged were also outrageous; they were the kind of places people would visit once during their ski trip, even if the bill-payer did need to suppress a sob whenl’additionarrived.
They were also the kind of places her stepmother would insist she and her father should frequent, and that was reason enough for Tania to lose interest in going anywhere near them.
The no-nonsense, queue up with a tray, school dinner approach at the Cocoon worked just as well, in Tania’s opinion. Better, probably, if you timed it right and the queue wasn’t long. Quicker. More time for skiing.
She pushed through the doors, sidestepped a slippery-looking patch of melted ice on the floorboards and headed for the pile of trays. With her line of sight on the menu board, trying to decide whether to go for a croque monsieur ortartiflette, she didn’t notice the man walking in the opposite direction. He wasn’t paying attention either, preoccupied with fixing one glove to the other with a carabiner. They collided shoulder to shoulder, Tania jerking to attention with a reflexive ‘pardon’ and taking a step backwards before it dawned on her that she recognised him.
It was Mr Explicit from the bar the previous evening. Mr ‘Let’s have sex in a hot tub’.
From the changing expression on his face, it was clear he also recognised who it was he’d collided with.
‘Oh. Hello again,’ he said.
Was that a hint of embarrassment she could hear in his voice? A crease formed between his dark eyes, and he ran a hand across a jawline which hadn’t seen a razor this morning.
‘It’s “hello” for the first time, I think you’ll find. I don’t remember any mention of a “hello” last night,’ she said, her eyebrows jacking to emphasise her point.
He cleared his throat. ‘Ah. Yes. Well … in my defence, I did offer to buy you a drink.’
‘Well done,’ she said, leaning forward to reach past him for a tray.
‘The offer still stands,’ he said, picking up a couple of trays and handing her one of them.
‘Which offer?’ she asked, challenging him again.
He paused for a beat, then said, ‘Both of them?’ The crease between his eyes deepened for a moment before he smiled, a sudden flash of brilliant sunshine in an otherwise brooding skyline. He closed it down just as quickly and shrugged. ‘Sorry. I’d had a few too many last night. The phrasing might have been off, but the sentiment wasn’t.’
‘Still totally inappropriate,’ she said, gesturing for him to join the queue and allowing herself a final glance up at him. ‘Please. Carry on. I’m waiting for my friends.’
