A Slippery Slope (3 page)

CHAPTER
FOUR

‘Mum, we’re
here,’ Lucy said, gently shaking Verity.

‘How
long have I been asleep?’ Verity asked, not quite sure where ‘here’ was,
exactly.

‘You
fell asleep a few minutes after we left Chambery airport, so about an hour and
three- quarters. Etienne said we should’ve been here at least half an hour
earlier but after the heavy snowfall today, some of the traffic was struggling
up the mountain roads and it’s taken a lot longer than normal. I’m surprised
his swearing didn’t wake you. Even I learnt a few new words.’

Lucy
grinned and glanced towards the man in question as he retrieved their luggage
from the roof of the minibus.

‘Well
I’m almost sorry I slept through that,’ Verity said. ‘I knew he couldn’t be quite
as perfect, or as angelic as he looks.’

She
stretched her aching limbs, got to her feet and was about to clamber out of the
minibus when Etienne appeared in front of her: fair haired, muscular bodied,
deeply tanned, hunk of gorgeousness that he was.

He
held out his arms and lifted her down as if she weighed no more than a
snowflake, and although it was evening and the sky was dark, she wished she’d
kept her sunglasses on. She was almost blinded by the radiance of his smile.

‘If
you ever tire of being a ski guide-come-instructor-come-minibus driver,
Etienne, you could earn a fortune working for a toothpaste company.’

He
winked at her. ‘Merci bien, Vérité,’ he replied in a perfect French accent,
although he’d already disclosed that he was raised in Kent by his English
mother after his French father had taken a dislike to married life. He’d spent
long holidays with his dad though, he’d said, who’d taught him how to ski and
had encouraged him to move back to Meribel, several years later.

 ‘I’ll
make sure you two are settled in,’ Etienne continued, reverting to English as
he lifted Lucy down from the minibus with equal ease, ‘then I’ll get the rest
of this bunch to their various haunts.’

Verity
and Lucy weren’t the only seasonaires Etienne had met at Chambery airport.
There were eight others, all of whom were regular employees of the
conspicuously absent, Joshua Calder. They would be working at various resorts
in the Three Valleys in one of several,
Calder Chalets
. Verity had
discovered this much before she had succumbed to her much needed sleep. She and
Lucy were the only ‘virgin seasonaires’ this year.

‘Did
I hear you say that Mr Calder is out of the country at present?’ Verity asked,
hoping she hadn’t imagined it.

Despite
Joanna’s assurances that her uncle was very grateful when Verity stepped in to
take her place, Verity was feeling apprehensive. She wondered how her new
employer really felt about having her foisted on him at such short notice.

Throughout
her early teens, she’d dreamt of becoming a chalet girl and living in the Alps.
But life had other plans for her – and she met Tony. Now that she was actually
here, she wondered if it would be a disappointment. Or worse – if
she
would be a disappointment. Her cooking was more
bleurgh
than cordon
bleu, as Tony had told her. Repeatedly.  

‘Yeah,’
Etienne said. ‘He’s spent Thanksgiving in the States with friends, as always,
and he probably won’t be back for another day or two. We don’t usually open
’til mid-December. We’re opening a week early because there’s been so much snow
this November and a group of his regular guests asked him to. He’s done it
before when conditions have been as good as they are now. I often help him out
so it’s no big deal and he’ll be back before the first guests arrive next weekend.
That you can count on.’

Verity
almost sighed with relief. She had a few days’ grace to improve her cooking,
she thought. That should be okay. After all, how hard could it be to make crème
brûlée?

Etienne
grabbed the luggage from the snow-covered forecourt where he’d deposited it a
few minutes earlier.

‘Back
in five,’ he told the rest of the seasonaires seated in the minibus.

‘Goodbye
and good luck,’ Verity wished them.

But
as she linked arms with Lucy and walked across the crisp, white snow towards
the front door of the chalet which would be their home for the next five
months, she had a strong feeling that she was the one who would need the luck.

The
chalet was ‘picture-postcard perfect’. Made of wood and stone, with
heart-shaped cut-outs breaking up the balustrades of the wrap-around wooden
balconies, it was the epitome of most people’s
dream
chalet.

There
were shutters at the windows, which matched the deep, warm oak of the balcony
balustrades and the imposing double front door. The roof and every exposed
metre of balcony, windowsill, window box and bench-seat, were covered with at
least six inches of snow, some of which had fallen today.

The
chalet was in darkness but Verity could picture the windows bathed in a warm,
golden glow of light and a roaring fire with smoke billowing from the big,
square chimney. She couldn’t wait to sit in front of a real log fire again. It
seemed like an eternity since she’d done that.

‘Welcome
to
Chalet Marianne
,’ Etienne said, opening the massive door into an
expansive wood-framed hallway
and depositing their
bags near the foot of a large wooden staircase
. He led the way into a
vaulted sitting room. ‘I’ll light the fire and give you a quick tour. Then I’ll
leave you to get settled. Josh has a welcome slash instruction slash
information pack to explain everything and I’ve left that in the kitchen. Have
a read of it and I can go through anything you’re unsure of, tomorrow.’

 ‘Wow!’
Verity said, following Etienne, her head turning from side to side like a child
in a toyshop, marvelling at the many delights on offer. ‘This place is really
something! And this sitting room is about the same size as my entire house!’

‘Size
isn’t everything,’ Etienne replied, flashing his pearly white teeth in a wide
smile.

‘It
is sometimes,’ Verity said, her eyes scanning the room.

The
fireplace to the right was at least six feet across and made of stone with a
raised hearth and a heavy wooden beam for a mantle. The walls of the room were
wood, which had mellowed over the years to a dark honey tone but the oak floor
was clearly reclaimed from a much older building and was a deep, rich brown.
Two six-seater sumptuous leather sofas sat either side of the fireplace and a
large oak coffee table in the centre of a colourful rug, stood between them. A
couple of armchairs and an odd, red, heart-shaped designer-looking chair
completed the seating arrangements.

Heavy
curtains hung stylishly at the sides of several French doors that opened out
onto one of the wrap-around, snow-covered balconies. Through the strategically
placed, large picture window, Verity could see a large cluster of brightly lit
buildings just a little way off. Earlier, when they were outside, faint strains
of music and the noise of people partying had wafted through the alpine air
from that direction.

‘Is
that Meribel Village?’ she asked, pointing towards the lights.

‘Yes
and no.’ Etienne moved closer to the window. ‘That’s the main village and the
heart of the resort where most of the nightlife et cetera is, but it’s called
Meribel or Meribel Centre, not Meribel Village. You’ll find Meribel Village on
the road heading out of town towards Courchevel. That’s mainly chalets and
hotels and you can’t see it from here. Many people get the two places confused
and find they’re not staying where they thought they were. Further up the
valley in the opposite direction is the higher resort of Meribel Mottaret. It’s
not as pretty as Meribel but there’s some great skiing up there. Can you ski
well?’

‘I
haven’t been skiing for years,’ Verity said, peering out into the darkness at
the welcoming lights of Meribel, ‘but Lucy is an expert snowboarder. She goes
every year. I used to ski when I was younger but then I got married and had
Lucy and ... we couldn’t really afford skiing holidays.’

‘Yeah,
I really screwed things up for you didn’t I?’ Lucy said, only half joking as
she joined them at the window.

Verity
wrapped her arms around her daughter and hugged her tightly. ‘You’re the best
thing that ever happened to me and don’t you ever forget that.’ She planted a
long, lingering kiss on the side of Lucy’s head.

‘Okay!
Mind the hair,’ Lucy joked. ‘So ... the tour, Etienne. Forget about lighting a
fire, we’ll do that. Where’s the bedroom?’

Etienne
raised honey-blonde brows. ‘You’re a fast mover. We’ve only just met but if
you’re offering …’

‘Oh,
very funny. I meant for Mum and me, as if you didn’t know that.’

‘Follow
me,’ he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

He
collected the bags from the hall and,
turning in the
opposite direction to the stairs,
led the way through a spacious
kitchen. Verity was amazed to see that this also had a fireplace, similar to
the one in the sitting room but somewhat smaller. The kitchen led into a short
hallway and that, to a room, which could only be described as compact. There
were two single beds, two wardrobes, two chests of drawers and hardly any space
left to move in. A door on the left led into an en suite bathroom and a door to
the right opened on to one of the balconies.

 ‘I
see Mr Calder keeps the hired help away from the guests,’ Lucy remarked.
‘Although that’s probably a good thing.’

‘It’s
not exactly the Grand Hotel, I agree,’ Etienne said, ‘but I don’t suppose
you’ll be spending much time in here anyway. Meribel’s après ski is second to
none.’

Verity
glanced around the room. ‘Hmm. I think I’m a bit too old for après ski.’

‘Bullshit!
You don’t look a day over twenty-one. Anyway, you’re never too old for après
ski. I’m almost thirty and I can still party like an eighteen-year-old.’

‘Preferably
with
an eighteen-year-old, no doubt. I’m ... a bit older than that,’
Verity said, suddenly remembering that exactly seven days ago she was forty;
along with other memories she didn’t want to deal with tonight.

She
was a little disappointed that she didn’t have a room of her own. As much as
she loved her daughter, it felt a little odd to be sharing a room with her.
She’d have to keep her nightly sobbing to a minimum so as not to disturb Lucy.
Either that or she’d have to pull herself together and put a stop to the tears
once and for all. But it had only been just over a week since she’d discovered
her husband in bed with someone else. These things take time, she reminded
herself.

She
rubbed her eyes as she felt the familiar pricking sensation of threatening
tears. Etienne misread the gesture.

‘You’re
tired after the journey. I’ll leave you to it and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

He
smiled, deposited their bags on the few feet of available space and wished them
a good night. ‘I think you’ll love it here,’ he said, suddenly serious and
looking directly at Lucy. ‘I’m ... I’m looking forward to getting to know you
... both.’

‘I’ll
see you out,’ Lucy replied.

Verity
dropped down onto one of the beds and flopped back, stretching her arms behind
her head. She still wasn’t entirely convinced that she’d made the right
decision to take Joanna’s place and join Lucy as a chalet host – or girl as
they had both decided to call themselves in an attempt to harness a spirit of
adventure.

It
had been a monumental decision, and a rather hasty one, but so had leaving her
job after almost twenty years. And her husband of more than twenty-one –
although that one wasn’t her choice and neither was it her decision. Tony had
made it clear from the texts he’d sent, that he was leaving her. She’d had to
summon up all her courage to borrow Lucy’s phone – after her own was smashed to
smithereens – and text him to say that she needed time to think before they
could “talk”.

She
needed even more courage to text him just a few days later, to tell him that
she was going to France – and that she may be some time. Amazingly, for the
first time in months, he actually called to speak to her but as it was via
Lucy’s phone, Lucy told him that neither of them had anything more to say for
the present. If he wanted to get in touch with them, he should contact Laura.
They all knew he’d only call Verity’s mum in a dire emergency.

‘Well,’
Verity said, ‘I’m here now and I’m going to make the most of it.’

‘I
think you’ve already got an admirer,’ Lucy said, racing back into the room and
diving headlong onto the other bed.

Verity
turned to face her. ‘I think it’s you he’s interested in, not me.’

‘Bullshit
– to quote the delectable Etienne. He was asking lots of questions about you on
the way here whilst you slept soundly.’

‘Oh
God! In front of all the others! You didn’t tell him about your father and
Daniella did you? He’d probably think I’m some lonely, desperate old woman and
I’m gagging for it!’

‘I
didn’t say a thing, don’t worry.’ Lucy lifted her head from the pillow. ‘Well,
that’s not quite true I suppose. I did say that you and Dad were going through
a bad patch and that, as Jo couldn’t make it here, you stepped in to take her
place because a bit of time and space would enable you to think about your
future.’