Читать книгу What Happens in the Alps... - T Williams A - Страница 15

Chapter 6

When Annie surfaced around nine o’clock on Sunday morning and set about making coffee, she was still thinking about Matt and shaking her head in disbelief. What was it she had said about him to her sister? The morals of a tomcat, and she hadn’t been exaggerating. If he had spent the night with Rita, she just hoped the girl’s subsequent almost inevitable disappointment at then being dumped by him wouldn’t impact on Paolina and then on the school. More to the point, there had been no missing the interest in Paolina’s eyes, so, unless Rita did it first, Annie resolved to find the appropriate moment to enlighten her as to Matt’s true colours.

She glanced out of the window. The sky was a brilliant blue and the sunshine flooding across the car park had already reached her car. As a result, the ice was visibly melting on the windscreen. Her phone started ringing. She had to hunt round the cluttered kitchen before she found it and managed to answer. It was Paolina with a suggestion.

‘Ciao, Annie. It’s such a beautiful day, why don’t we go skiing?’

Annie was about to say no when her eyes slipped out through the window again and she saw the sunlight reflecting on the snow that covered the mountains behind the town. It was a fairy-tale scene and she knew there was only one sensible option. ‘Paolina, I know I should stay home and tidy up a bit; my room looks like a train wreck. But, even though it’s a Sunday and it’ll be busy on the slopes, it’s too fine a day to miss. Yes, let’s go skiing.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘How about if I pick you up from home at ten?’

They reached Montalto at ten-thirty. On the way, Annie tried a couple of times to bring the conversation round to Matt, but Paolina seemed unwilling to talk about him and Annie dropped the subject. The car park was much fuller than the last time Annie had been up there, but there was still ample space. They were able to get straight onto the main chairlift without wasting time in a queue, and by eleven they were up at the middle station. It was there that Annie got her first surprise of the day. Waiting for them by the recently illuminated fir tree chosen as this year’s Christmas tree was none other than Rita from last night. Somehow, Annie had assumed Rita would still be with Matt.

‘Ciao, Rita. Did you have a good time last night?’ As she asked, she could sense Paolina’s impatience to know more.

Rita nodded, a touch of what could have been regret noticeable in her expression. ‘Yes, thanks, Annie.’

Paolina butted straight in. ‘So, come on, how did it go with il bellissimo Matt?’ Evidently, Paolina had no compunction about prying into her friend’s affairs.

‘He was great. We went to a party out by the airport. He insisted on giving me champagne and we did a bit of dancing.’ She glanced across at Paolina, her eyes shining. ‘He’s an amazing dancer. But it wasn’t a very late night. After we’d been there for a while, Matt told me he was feeling very tired and he had to get some sleep, so I was home by eleven.’ The regret was all too clear in her voice now, but Rita didn’t stay despondent for long. Out here in the fresh air, with a cloudless blue sky above them, it simply wasn’t possible. ‘So that’s why I was up early and I sent Paolina the text suggesting coming up here.’

‘Well, I’m really pleased you did.’ Annie gave a silent sigh of relief. Her little sermon to Matt had obviously worked.

‘He’s too old for you anyway, Rita.’ Paolina clearly saw the ten-year age gap as insurmountable. From the expression on Rita’s face, she didn’t agree.

‘He’s only thirty-six. I’m twenty-five, after all.’

‘Well, I’m twenty-six.’ Paolina was clearly making the point that she felt better qualified to vie for Matt’s attentions.

Annie couldn’t forget Matt’s birthday. He was only a week older than she was. Both of them would be thirty-seven early in the New Year. She breathed in deeply, the crisp mountain air cold on her lips. She pulled off a glove, dug in a pocket, pulled out a lip protection stick and ran it over her lips. As she was doing so, they heard a voice calling to them. All three of them turned as a ski instructor swept by at the head of a gaggle of little children in crash helmets, like a Chinese dragon in a festival parade.

‘Ciao ragazze!’ He raised his hand in salute.

Annie recognised him as he went past, rather glad to be included in the greeting as a girl alongside girls a lot younger than her. It was the same ski instructor who had appeared with the sledge to rescue the big black dog. She had felt his eyes on her then and she felt them again now as he sailed past. What was his name? Her eyes were still following him and he had almost disappeared across the slope, trailed by his cortege of six-year-olds, when it came to her. Paul. That was it. The Italian with the French name. She turned to the other two girls and saw from their faces that they knew him.

‘Do you two know him?’ They both nodded.

‘Paul Cornaz. He was at school with us.’ Rita glanced across at Paolina. ‘You had a thing for him for a while, didn’t you?’

Paolina nodded. ‘But he wasn’t interested in me. Every time I tried to talk to him he just clammed up and ignored me. Shame, because he’s got the most amazing thigh muscles.’ She caught Annie’s eye and looked a bit bashful. ‘I’ve got a thing about men’s thighs.’

Annie was surprised to realise that she, on the other hand, had had her eyes trained on another part of the young skier’s body. Clearly, different parts of the male anatomy appealed to different women. She shook her head to clear it of the image of Paul’s muscular bottom and reached for her goggles. As she did so, just to add to her confusion, she saw a tall figure in a blue jacket ski elegantly past and found herself wondering if it might be Alessandro with the bright blue eyes, rather hoping it was. As he, too, disappeared from sight, she pulled her goggles down over her eyes and got a grip.

‘Bè, andiamo?’

They had a spectacular morning, skiing their way around the natural amphitheatre that made up the ski domain of Montalto. Away to the right of them, at the head of the valley, was the bulky mass of Mont Blanc, while back behind them they couldn’t miss the magnificent monolith that was the Matterhorn, or Cervino, as the Italians called it. The two girls skied fluently and naturally, unsurprising as they had started almost at the same time as they started to walk. They did red runs and blue runs, black runs and some powder snow, although the depth of the powder hadn’t built up quite enough by then. It was only a degree or two above zero, but the unbroken sun warmed them through their clothes. By the time they stopped for a late lunchtime sandwich at the mid station restaurant, all three of them were boiling hot. By a stroke of really good luck, as they reached the chalet-style wooden building, a group got up from one of the tables on the terrace and the girls found themselves sitting in the sunshine gazing out over a natural spectacle of rock and snow that was hard to beat. Around them, people were stripped to their shirtsleeves, lapping up the sun even though they were in the depths of December. Annie took off her jacket and relaxed.

‘We’re lucky people.’ Paolina was in no doubt. Annie could only agree.

‘What a day. It’s good to be alive.’ And it was. Annie closed her eyes for a moment, glad of the concealment afforded by her dark glasses. There had been times over the past two years when she had seriously questioned just how much she had to live for, after Steve’s death had smashed her whole world apart. Now, out here, two years on, she could almost feel the shoots of new life growing inside her. Her eyes stung and a tear rolled down her cheek, but this time it wasn’t a tear of abject desperation. Steve had gone, but her own life would go on. She reached up and rubbed it away just as their food arrived. Annie picked up her glass and held it out. ‘Cin cin. It’s been a great day.’

They were accompanied through their meal by a small group of totally fearless sparrows who flitted around beneath and sometimes on the tables, picking up and devouring any crumbs that fell from the plates of the guests. Annie had just finished her toasted sandwich and was beginning to think about a return to her unpacking, when she felt the lightest of touches on her shoulder. She glanced up.

‘Ciao, ragazze.’

It was Paul, the ski instructor. He clumped around the table in his heavy boots, leaning down to kiss Rita and Paolina on the cheeks. As he kissed Paolina, Annie clearly saw her cheeks redden, so, she thought to herself, maybe the schoolgirl crush was still operative. When he got to Annie he pulled off his glove and held out his hand. She reached up and shook it. It was warm and strong.

‘Ciao, Paul. We saw you with your flock of little kids.’ He grinned and Rita grabbed his arm.

‘There’s a spare seat, Paul. Do you want to join us?’

He glanced at his watch and accepted the offer. ‘I’m taking a Russian oligarch and his “niece” for a tour of the pistes in ten minutes’ time. I’d better not be late for him or he’ll have me bumped off.’ He looked over at Annie. ‘Last time I saw you, you had a very cold bottom. Tell me it’s warmed up now.’

Annie saw the expressions on the faces of the other two girls as she struggled to mask the fact that she had been thinking about his bottom only a couple of hours ago. What was happening to her? This interest in men’s bottoms was a very recent development. She cleared her throat and hastily explained to Paolina. ‘Paul came to rescue the dog involved in the hit and run accident last week.’ She returned her eyes to Paul. ‘And, yes, my bottom and the rest of me are as warm as toast after a fine morning’s skiing.’

They sat and chatted and Annie thoroughly enjoyed his company. From the look on Paolina’s face, so did she. Before long, Paul glanced at his watch and stood up. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I have to go and meet my Russians. I hope to see you all again.’

Once he had left, Annie caught Paolina’s eye. ‘You know, Paolina, I rather get the impression Paul fancies you.’

Paolina scoffed, but her cheeks reddened as she did so. ‘Don’t be so silly. He hardly looked at me.’

‘I’m not so sure.’

‘Anyway, I thought he was checking you out, Annie. And talking about your bottom and so on.’

Annie laughed. ‘Nothing going on there, I can assure you. Besides, he’s ten years younger than me for a start.’ Secretly Annie felt rather pleased that the girls should think the young ski instructor might have a thing for an older woman like her.

Paolina shook her head. ‘Well, Matt’s your age, but that wouldn’t stop me.’

‘Or me.’ Rita’s face still bore the ‘what if’ expression from earlier on. ‘But I noticed Paul looking at you, too, Paolina.’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘Annie, can I ask you something? What about you? Are you all alone or have you got a boyfriend or a husband? You’re very pretty, you know.’

Annie took a deep breath. ‘I used to be married, but my husband was killed in a rock climbing accident.’ She stopped to take another breath and was pleasantly surprised to have been able to speak about Steve’s death in an almost normal voice.

‘Oh, how awful.’ Rita and Paolina exchanged glances. ‘When did it happen? Were you married long?’

So Annie told them the story. And, for once, she managed to tell the whole tale without breaking down. She told them about how she and Steve had first met at an excruciating drinks party at the British Council, how they had got married in a little church near her parents’ home in South Devon, how they had lived so happily together in Turin until that awful day. But, this time, as she told the story, she found she was recounting it factually, almost emotionlessly, almost dispassionately. And, as she told it, her eyes swept out over the snowy slopes, up the valley towards the high Alps. The sun was reflecting off the ice on the rocky summits, sending sparkling rays out in an explosion of light that disappeared into the vastness of the cloudless sky. The powerful and almost terrifying beauty of the scenery reached deep inside her and a sense of unexpected serenity spread throughout her whole body. She suddenly found she was smiling across the table at the two girls. ‘I loved him dearly, you know, and he loved me, but the mountains were in his blood.’

‘How awful for him, and for you.’ Rita was appalled. Annie managed to keep the smile on her face.

‘It was awful, really awful, but what’s done is done. I can’t bring him back, however much I’d like to.’

‘Oh, Annie.’ Paolina didn’t know what to say.

‘It’s all right, Paolina. Life goes on. It’s taken me two years to realise it, but I know that now.’ And she meant it.

When it was time to leave, they ran into a problem. First Paolina and then Annie went downstairs to the basement area of the restaurant in search of the toilets. They found them all right, but the queue of desperate-looking women waiting to take their turn was so long, it reached halfway back up the stairs. They looked at each other and Paolina shook her head. ‘Looks like a long wait.’ She gave Annie a little smile. ‘And I’m not sure I can last that long.’ Annie felt the same way, so she came up with a pragmatic suggestion.

‘Into the woods?’

Paolina nodded and they climbed back up to break the news to Rita. They left the terrace and went across to where they had left their skis. Once they were all clipped in again, Annie led them off down the slope. She scanned the trees on either side of the piste until she saw a likely spot. A couple of ski tracks ran into the trees along what was probably a path in summer. She slowed, glanced back at the others and pointed, then skied into the trees for ten or twenty metres until they were safely out of sight of anybody on the main piste.

Paolina wasted no time in stepping out of her skis and disappearing behind a bush. The snow was so deep she had trouble walking in it, but such was her desperation, she struggled through it until she reached her objective. Rita kept guard while Annie sidestepped across to a thicket on the other side of the track. Having seen the trouble that Paolina had had, she decided not to unclip her skis. She took a good look round, pulled down her trousers and squatted, praying that nobody would choose that moment to come skiing down the path.

She had just about finished doing what she had come into the trees to do when, to her horror, she saw something charging straight towards her. She just had time to realise that the big black shape was a very friendly Labrador, when the dog reached her. He was clearly delighted to find her down at his level and he put his paws up on her shoulders and set about licking her face. She put up her hands to fend him off, but he was insistent. Unfortunately, the effect of this weight suddenly pressing against her began to push her backwards. She felt herself moving, slowly at first, but gradually gathering speed, and she realised she was sliding backwards towards the main piste. She ran over a clump of some kind of plant, probably heather, covered in snow, and got a frozen, wet bottom as a result. She had ditched her poles so she scrabbled desperately at the passing branches until, mercifully, she managed to get a grip on something solid enough to arrest her descent. She glanced up and around her. The dog had stopped following her and was sitting in the snow, looking on with what could have been a smile on his face. Another six feet and she would have emerged onto the open mountainside, bare bum on display for all to see. As it was, she was still just about hidden and was able to pull up her trousers without being spotted by anybody. Well, almost anybody.

From behind her she heard hoots of laughter as Rita and Paolina followed her trail in the snow. As Annie got to her feet and zipped herself up, her face glowing with embarrassment, Rita handed over her poles, still unable to utter a word, such was her mirth. Behind her, Paolina concentrated on petting the dog, her shoulders shaking as she creased up with laughter.

‘Well, that’s a lesson learnt.’ Annie was conscious that some of the snow, if not the heather, she had run over was still sticking to her under her clothes and she felt it begin to melt. It was an uncomfortable feeling. ‘Always, always, always take your skis off before having a pee.’

‘Oh, Annie.’ That was all Paolina managed to say. The dog, in the meantime, came lurching through the snow towards Annie and stood up on his hind legs to greet her once more. She looked down at his collar and spotted the same medallion she had seen before.

‘Well, Leo, it would seem you’re fit and well again.’ Instinctively, she looked around, just in case the man with the blue eyes might appear. There was no sign of him and, although this meant he hadn’t been around to witness her recent debacle, she felt a sense of disappointment. ‘Just you watch out next time you decide to cross the piste.’ She grinned at the other two. ‘And I’ll be sure to watch out next time I have to pee in the snow.’

In spite of a strong coffee after her salad that evening, by ten o’clock Annie was feeling really tired and she headed for her temporary bedroom. Without turning on the light, she made her way across to the window and looked out into the night sky. This room was on the west side of the building and the view from the window was amazing. It was a crystal-clear, moonlit night and, to the left, she could see all the way down the valley, the steep sides rising up like walls, while, to the right, her eyes could make out the high Alps beyond which lay the French and Swiss borders. Ahead of her, snaking up the mountainside, was the road to Montalto, with faint clusters of lights marking numerous little hamlets dotted across the mountainside. Headlights showed tiny, distant cars picking their way down from the ski resort to the valley floor. Higher up above them, as Annie’s eyes acclimatised to the dark, she made out sheer, snow-covered peaks that stood out like pale ghosts against the sky. The sky itself was a deep velvety blue, almost a violet colour, studded all over with stars. It was a stunning view and she leant forward, rested her head against the freezing glass, and stared and stared, as memories came flooding through her brain.

Her thoughts turned, as they had done so often over the last two years, to Steve. Somehow she had always feared that his hobby – more of an obsession, really – of mountaineering might be the death of him. She would dearly have loved him to give it up, but she knew it would have been unfair to ask it of him. He had loved the rocks and mountains and, in a way, the manner of his death had been what he would have wanted. His death had been a freak accident when a rock fall tore him and his rope from the cliff face and sent him crashing two hundred metres to instant death. If she had insisted he give up climbing he might still be alive today, but would he be happy? The stars twinkled down at her and memories flooded her brain.

But then, out of the blue, another image entered her head. This was a different face; a face with strikingly bright blue eyes. She blinked a few times, but the image stayed clear and true before her. She shook her head and tried to rid herself of the vision by concentrating her attention on the mountains before her, but all that happened was that she found herself focusing on the distant lights of Montalto, high up on the side of the mountain. Up there, she knew, was where she would find him again. And, she thought to herself with awe, there was no getting away from it. She really did want to see him again: Alessandro Lago, the man with the amazing eyes.