The Woman From Paris (23 page)

That evening the three of them dined at the Chesa, where David and Tom were greeted like family. They seemed to know most people there, and it took a while to get to their table through the enthusiastic hand shaking and chatting. David introduced Phaedra to everyone, but he never mentioned that she was his half sister. Phaedra was relieved. She didn’t feel ready to share her story with strangers. It would be better for them all if it remained a family secret.

As she was made a great fuss of, it dawned on her that people assumed she was David’s girlfriend. They looked from her to David
and smiled in that knowing way, and it was clear from their admiring glances that they considered them a good match. David put his hand on the small of Phaedra’s back and ushered her to their table in the corner. But she could feel people watching them and talking about them in low voices. To her surprise, she liked the way it made her feel; she liked being linked to David.

The table was in the perfect position to survey the room. The restaurant was almost full, and the waitresses wove between the tables wearing pretty dirndls with tidy white aprons. Phaedra ran her eyes over the alpine designs carved into the wooden beams, absorbed the warm atmosphere of the room, and sighed with pleasure. She was pleased that Julius had persuaded her to accept David’s original invitation to stay at Fairfield. She now felt part of their family—and she hadn’t
ever
felt part of a real family.

They drank wine, ate the delicious dishes, and laughed at Tom’s stories. Then when Tom went out to smoke a cigarette, David and Phaedra were left together, and once again the electricity between them quivered with such force that Phaedra was certain the whole dining room would notice. David smiled across the table. He was unable to hide his feelings. They were growing so fast he wasn’t sure he’d be able to control them, and were it not for the word
sibling
that hung between them like prison bars, it would have been the most natural thing in the world to have held her hand.

David paid the bill—Phaedra noticed that Tom didn’t even offer—then they drove back up the narrow lane to Chalet Marmot. The sky glittered with stars, and the moon lit up the mountains in a phosphorescent silver light so that every tree and rock on the Gotchna could be seen with clarity.

“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” asked Phaedra, as she and David stood on the balcony a little later, hugging mugs of hot chocolate. “The mountain really leaps out at you, and the sky looks so deep. So very far away.” She watched her breath turn to mist on the cold air.

“It’s hard to imagine that Dad died up there,” said David, his face creasing into a frown.

“From here it looks so benign.”

“Terrible to think that something so beautiful can cause so much harm.”

“It was written in the Book of Life, David.”

“I know.”

“It was his destiny to go.”

“Still, it’s tough on all of us.” He took a swig of hot chocolate and swallowed hard.

“It’s those left behind who suffer the most. Your father probably knew very little about it when the avalanche hit him. He probably didn’t feel any pain at all. But we feel it constantly.”

David put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “I’m glad you’re here, Phaedra.”

“So am I,” she replied, blinking away tears. “We’re in this together, and it makes it so much easier to bear.”

David wanted to ask her why she had lied about her age. The question dangled on the tip of his tongue. But fear overcame his curiosity, and he managed to restrain himself. He didn’t want to risk losing her trust by admitting that he’d snooped, or that he had caught her lying. It was obvious that she had lied only to protect them all from the truth: that his father had been unfaithful right at the start of his marriage. Surely he didn’t really need to ask. However, it bothered him like an unsightly plastic bag left lying in a beautiful woodland. As long as he knew it was there, he was unable wholly to enjoy the view. In the end he would have to ask her—but not while she rested against him.

Later, when he lay in bed, he thought about his parents’ marriage. As far as he could see they had been very happy. His mother had worshipped his father in a kind of childlike way, never questioning his actions and allowing him to dominate with the submissive acceptance of a geisha. George, in turn, had always treated her with the greatest respect and defended her with the ferocity of a lion if anyone had ever hurt her. They had never argued or fought, and he remembered tender moments between them, when his father had held her hand or bent down to kiss her cheek. The loving look on his mother’s face was an image he had never forgotten. So if his father had been
unfaithful, did it matter? As far as David knew, it hadn’t affected their marriage. It was morally wrong, but it hadn’t harmed anyone. What the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve for, which was a cliché because it was true. He rolled over and closed his eyes. He knew one thing for sure: if his father had gone to such great lengths to avoid hurting Antoinette, then so would he.

The following morning they breakfasted early and were up at the top of the Gotchna by nine. The air was crisp and cold, the sky a bright, enthusiastic blue, against which the mountain shone brightly. However, the mood among the three of them was somber. Today they’d visit the place where George had died. The anticipation hung over them like a thundercloud.

Phaedra was nervous. Only her gloves prevented her from biting her nails. Apart from a couple of lame jokes in the cable car, Tom was very quiet. David masked his anxiety with efficiency, telling Phaedra the plan for the day and pointing out the famous Wang, which was one of the steepest slopes in Murenburg. “With every turn you fall a few feet,” he explained. “Beautiful in powder but also phenomenally dangerous.” Phaedra looked down at the wide avenue of burgeoning trees that cut through the forest below and realized that this was prime avalanche territory.

Once at the top, Tom smoked a quick cigarette as they clicked into their skis and surveyed the magnificent view of the valley and south-facing Madrisa Mountain opposite, bathed in sunshine. Phaedra wore a pair of white trousers and a navy jacket that emphasized her small waist and feminine hips. She shivered, not from the cold, and watched Tom throw his cigarette butt into the snow. They caught eyes, and for the first time she could see the apprehension on his face. She smiled with empathy, and Tom did his best to smile back. He looked like a boy, and she wanted to rush up and wrap her arms around him. All of a sudden the gravity of what they were about to do hit them like a gust of cold wind. After that, they said nothing. David pushed off, and Phaedra followed, her heart heavy with sorrow, for George must have skied this mountain a thousand times.

That first run together should have filled them with pleasure
because they all skied fast and skillfully. David was impressed with Phaedra’s ability as she carved her turns like a racer, nimbly shifting her weight from side to side, her skis slicing the snow with sharp whooshing sounds. She was elegant and powerful, but above all she was speedy, and the Framptons were well known for being fast. However, they were all too aware of their purpose to give way to the fun, and George’s death remained at the forefront of their minds.

Tom took the T-bar alone, leaving David and Phaedra to go up together. “He’s quiet,” said Phaedra.

“Tom’s an avoider, but there’s no avoiding Dad here.”

“It’s hitting him, isn’t it?”

“It was always going to hit him sooner or later.”

“Poor Tom,” she sighed sympathetically.

“He looks tough—”

“No, he doesn’t,” Phaedra interrupted.

“Resilient, then.”

“No, David, he looks like an avoider.”

“He’s used to drowning his issues in alcohol. Now he’s got nowhere to hide.”

“Which is healthier. He’ll grieve, then let it go and get on with his life. That’s what we all have to do.”

David looked down at her. “You ski well, Phaedra.”

She grinned up at him. “So do you, David.”

“Where did you learn to ski like that?”

“I grew up in Vancouver, remember.”

“I don’t know many women who can ski as fast as you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, not as a chauvinistic comment.”

“I’m stating a fact, not being provocative. Most women I know aren’t as brave as you. Are you as good off the piste as you are on it?”

“Sure.” She shrugged modestly. “I’ll take anything I’m given.”

“You’re going to be tested. Dad died extreme skiing. It’s what he loved to do, pushing the boundaries. He always skied like that, and most of the time he got away with it. I think he was just unlucky.”

“We’ll go carefully.”

“I doubt bad luck will strike twice.”

Phaedra shook her head. “Never say never. I can be reckless, too, but George has made me rein myself in a little.”

“You’ve turned on your bleeper?” he asked, referring to the electronic device used to find one another in the event of an avalanche.

“Of course. Please tell me you know how to use it!”

David grew serious and looked up at the sharp peaks of the Weissfluhgipfel. “I do. But let’s hope I don’t need to.”

They regrouped at the top of the Mahder lift then set off to the Furka, from where they traversed into the Gaudergrat then clicked out of their skis to climb Alp Duranna for the rest of the morning. The sun grew hotter, and Phaedra tied her jacket and helmet around her waist and climbed with her sweater rolled up to her elbows and the zip pulled down to expose her chest. The snow sparkled around her, and the mountains rose into jagged peaks and sheer precipices.

At last they reached the top. They stuck their skis into the snow and sat down to share a bar of chocolate and David’s hip flask of sloe gin. “This is stunning,” Phaedra enthused, gazing at the sea of pale-blue peaks.

“We’re on top of the world,” said David.

“It’s an incredible feeling,” she continued. “Like we’re part of eternity. It makes me feel so small and yet so connected to everything.” She filled her lungs with a deep, luxurious breath.

“Dad would have sat here after his climb,” said David solemnly. “He would have been looking forward to the descent. He would have been excited with all the new snow. I wonder whether he looked out over those peaks as we’re doing now and felt a connection with something bigger than himself? I never asked him what he felt about God.”

Tom took a deep breath and stared out at the vast expanse that seemed to have no end. Miles away, on the far horizon, the mountains melted into mist. Beyond was infinity. As he stared into it, he sensed something profound stir within him. For the first time in his life he became aware of the eternal current, and in some extraordinary way he felt part of it. He hadn’t dared imagine where his father was now. He hadn’t wanted to face the fact that he had gone.
Pretending everything was fine was the only form of self-defense he knew. But now, suddenly, his chest expanded with unexpressed emotion, and he gasped in horror as it welled into his throat and on up until he let out a deep, shuddering groan. He had no control, as if a strange entity had taken possession of his body and he could only observe, powerless, as it raged through him, making him convulse and tremble.

David stared in horror as his brother’s face contorted with pain and he struggled to breathe. Phaedra crawled across the snow and wrapped her arms around him. He yielded without hesitation, burying his face in her jacket. They all sat very still while Tom allowed his grief to pass through him.

“This is good,” Phaedra said once Tom had grown quiet. “It will make you feel so much better. You can’t hold it in forever. That’s the very worst thing you can do. You have to acknowledge it, then release it. Pretending it isn’t there will only make it stronger.”

Tom reached for his knapsack, but David was quick to unzip it and delve inside for his brother’s cigarettes. With shaking hands Tom popped one into his mouth and lit it with the lighter David held out for him. The first drag filled his lungs, and he felt instantly calmed. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay,” said David. “Your reaction was just a little delayed, that’s all.”

Tom gazed down the mountain to where his father had skied to his death. “I miss him,” he said in a small voice. “I miss him very much.”

“I know you do,” David replied. His eyes followed his brother’s, and he, too, gazed down the mountainside. “Somewhere down there is the avalanche.”

“Are you ready to face it, Tom?” Phaedra asked.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” he replied with a sigh, then took another long drag.

“But we have to,” Phaedra continued. “None of us will be able to move on until we’ve paid our respects there.” She pushed herself up. “Come on, boys. The longer we wait, the harder it will be.”

15

I
t had recently snowed, and only a few tracks marred the perfection of the mountainside. Tom couldn’t help but feel reinvigorated as he bounced through powder as light as goose down, and David discovered to his delight that Phaedra was as adept off the piste as on.

Phaedra felt the sun on her face and the wind against her chest where her sweater was still open, and her heart grew wistful at the beauty of it all, because there among the glittering crystals and undulating slopes was surely George, watching the people he loved in the place he had loved so deeply.

After a while and a few breaks to catch their breath, they stopped. Below, the slope disappeared into a very long and steep incline. At that moment the wind seemed to drop, and Tom and David grew quiet. A few rogue clouds had blown in over the peak and now cast them in shadow. Phaedra sensed that they had arrived.

“Let’s ski this one at a time,” said David. “Keep to the right and don’t stop. I’ll go first.” As he launched himself over the lip and on down the slope, he could see to his left the remains of the avalanche that had taken half the mountainside with it. Knowing it was too risky to stop, he continued on until he reached the bottom. The avalanche had started right at the top, leaving a wide ridge about six feet high where the snow had simply broken away like a slice of wedding cake. It must have gathered momentum as it tumbled down, gaining speed and strength as it went, until it reached the bottom, where the terrain flattened out into a little valley before falling once again. There it had heaped itself into a mound of big icy boulders, now covered in a thick layer of snow. It looked so innocuous, like a beast
lying asleep beneath a white quilt. It was hard to imagine that it had once had the ferocity to sweep their father to his death.