In her opinion, it was a microcosm of everything– the beauty of the scenery lived hand in glove with the harshness of the environment should you get caught out by bad weather, or by being in the wrong place; beauty and the beast, if you like. And while the exhilaration of the physical activity made her feel as if every nerve ending fizzed with life, it was impossible to forget it was laced with the ever-present possibility for your whole world to tip literally upside down at a moment’s notice.
If you made a mistake– a badly placed ski, or an ill-judged turn– the slope might choose to punish you, or it might let you get away with it. Equally, if you did everything with perfect technique, the mountain could still choose to bring you to your knees, just because it wanted to.
This run had been completed without incident, however. The gods of the mountain were smiling today, and so was she. Picking up the red run, she twisted her way back to the base of the glacier, then stood fidgeting as she queued for a bubble to take her back up to the summit, the adrenalin still coursing through her body.
Most of the skiers on the glacier were focused. Many were up here alone, GoPros attached to helmets to record every downhill moment, earbuds feeding music directly into brains. Everyone was up here for the thrill. Simple as that. Each bubble ride back to the summit laden with anticipation; silent except for a sudden ringtone, a loud, one-way conversation held in unintelligibly rapid French.
At the summit this time, Tania checked her watch. Much as she was loving every moment, she was aware she should get back to Clara. The whole point of this trip was to support their friend. To help her. And as far as Tania was concerned, nothing helped the soul like time spent on the mountain. In the fresh air. Seeing the bigger picture, if that were possible. Clara had spiralled down into such a tight rabbit hole, Tania wasn’t sure anyone would be able to pull her back out again, but she was determined to try. Not that leaving her friend to fend for herself while she spent the day on the slopes had been a great start to Project Clara. Bad friend. Must do better.
She would complete this run down the glacier and head back to the lodge.
Opting for the red run this time, she set off with a series of arcing turns, concentrating on the steep upper section, tucking herself more tightly to gain some speed when the slope opened out. She grinned under her bandanna– she was flying. Halfway down, she slid to a stop at the side of the run to grab her breath. A gaggle of skiers shot past, and she waited until there was a little distance between them before turning her own skis downhill, allowing gravity to take effect, picking up speed until she was hurtling.
In no time, she’d caught up to the group. Picking her moment, as they opted to turn across the slope, she headed straight down and threaded her way between them. She kept her speed up all the way to the Saulire chairlift, sliding her way into the queue.
A large family group at the head of the queue took a chair, followed by a group of boarders, shuffling and jumping their boards to the barrier. She pulled her bandanna down and pushed her goggles onto her helmet, slotting her poles into one hand. A waft of tobacco smoke escaped the lips of one of the lift operators and passed between the moving chairs like a will-o’-the-wisp, catching on a current of air, twisting and disappearing as quickly as it had formed.
When the lifts weren’t busy, it was possible to have the whole chair to yourself, but at times like this, with perfect weather and the clock ticking towards the end of the afternoon, every chair was full. Other skiers jostled for position on either side of her, lining up like racehorses in the starting gates. The barrier ticked open, the line of skiers sliding forward in unison onto the red and black striped ‘magic carpet’ which trundled them into position to await the next chair.
As they sat down and pulled the safety bar into position, the man occupying the seat to the far left of the chair folded his sunglasses and turned to the next group waiting for a chair.
‘See you at the top, you losers,’ he called at them cheerfully, slotting the black-lensed Oakleys into a soft pouch before pocketing the glasses. Glancing across, the open smile he’d been wearing for his queue-bound friends dissolved into a frown as he saw her. It was Mr Explicit. Hot tub guy.
The two teenage girls sitting between them struck up a highly animated conversation in what sounded like Italian. It gave her the chance to look away from him without having to say anything. She studied the trees passing beside the lift, wondering not for the first time how many different types of firs there were on the mountain. Lots, judging by the variety of the pinecones hanging from their branches.
‘I really am sorry.’
She studied a particularly fine tree, flanked by a couple of smaller ones, wondering how long it took for a fir to mature to that size.
‘Will you let me apologise properly?’
She allowed her gaze to travel across to him. He looked awkward but determined, his concentration fixed on her.
‘There’s no need. Forget about it,’ she said.
‘I realised this afternoon that I never even asked your name.’
‘I know.’
‘Would you have told me if I’d asked?’
‘Probably not.’ Disappearing for a week was hardly likely to involve telling the first stranger she met exactly who she was. And anyway, it was none of his business.
He shook his head. ‘You’re not making this easy.’
She laughed. ‘Why should I? Listen, I get that you were hoping I was going to be easy. Really easy. Sorry to disappoint.’
‘Oh, believe me, I’ve already worked out you’re anything but easy …’ He looked frustrated, but his gaze didn’t falter, staying resolutely on her.
‘Probably not worth bothering to find out my name, then.’ Pulling her goggles down to hide her eyes, she shuffled in the seat in preparation for the rise at the top of the chairlift. Tugging impatiently at the safety bar, she made ready for a sharp exit.
What was it about this man which annoyed her so much? It wasn’t like she hadn’t been propositioned before. It wasn’t even like she hadn’t accepted propositions in the past, it wasn’t that which was getting to her. But this man irritated her in a way she’d never felt before. She wanted to get away from him, and yet something held her in this moment, even though she didn’t want to be held. Something at the base of her stomach felt out of kilter. It was almost as if she felt sick.
As soon as the chair hit the top of the lift, she pushed away from the vinyl seat and headed for the run that would take her back to Snow Pine Lodge. Without stopping to sort out her poles or her bandanna– she could do that on the move– she didn’t look in his direction again, she just went. The sooner she got away from him the better. The resort was huge, the chances of running– or skiing– into him again had to be minimal.
Even though she headed straight down, full pelt, she became aware of a figure beside her, keeping pace. It was him. Pulling to a stop again, she ripped her bandanna away from her mouth as he stopped, too. ‘Are you stalking me?’ The words came out hot and fast, and loud. The adrenalin was pumping, only added to in intensity by the feeling she was being chased. Perhaps he knew exactly who she was, and that was why he was following her so doggedly. ‘Will you just go away?’
‘Can we start again? I really would like to buy you a drink.’ He was out of breath, one of the bindings on his ski boots undone and sticking up through the snow. Tugging a hand free from its glove, he raised it to shield his squinting eyes, then pulled his glasses from a pocket and slotted them on instead.
