Yesterday had been his first day back on proper snow for a few years, he had taken it easy. His daughter had lectured him and his son had ordered him to be careful. He wondered when the rules changed so they could tell him instead of him telling them. He’d been skiing since he was twenty four; and now, just past his mid-sixties, he was well aware of what he could or should and couldn’t or shouldn’t do. He assumed they had best intentions. Neither had been able to come this time, and their kids would have loved it, he knew. He had a distinct feeling that their inability to come on a free, fully paid holiday (which was a first – the inability to come) was either pressure from their mother or because they had inherited their mother’s risk averse nature. Maybe they thought he wouldn’t go on his own and would stay safe. He laughingly accused them of intending to buy him a Zimmer frame for Christmas; at least his daughter had joined in the joke and asked if he wanted a seat and little pocket for his change. His son didn’t do humour.

It had been the first Christmas together for many years. When his wife left him, twenty years ago, for another man, the children were just into adult hood; they had said they wouldn’t take sides, which was nice. But it still seemed that his wife got not just the house, but the right to continue holding family Christmases in it. He found a flat and moved in and wondered about the drug sellers below. Still the man his wife had shacked up with seemed a decent enough guy, he had the feeling it was him rather than her that suggested they sell both their houses and buy another, and so freed up the cash for Robert to buy himself a proper flat in an area where the dustbins weren’t set on fire.

He’d not actually met Duncan until the funeral of his (ex) father-in-law. His (ex) wife had suggested he didn’t come, and he’d been tempted to tell her to fuck off; but of course she was grieving for her father. Whatever else she was, she was still human and had lost her dad. He simply said that he wouldn’t cause trouble, that he wanted to pay respects to the man who he had known for years and years whilst they had been married. He kept to his word, didn’t cause trouble. If people were worried when he and Duncan were seen talking, they needn’t have been. Both were curious about the other and grateful that the other was not a violent type, that they agreed on, at least. Turned out, over the years that Duncan was indeed much more what she needed.

He’d gone skiing with ‘the kids’ three years ago and the little grandchildren had loved it. In one spectacular crash into a metal sign, he claimed he’d been winded, but the doctor at home confirmed the three cracked ribs. His children had told him to hang up his boots, but he mended, slowly. Sixty year old bones take a while to fuse together.

So, day one in the French resort was re-acclimatisation. He hadn’t actually missed a year, it had always been something he had done intermittently, and when Joyce announced that she wouldn’t go any more that had introduced an hiatus. When she left, he didn’t take it up for a while, then it was back to every other year. Sometimes with a group (not really his thing), occasionally with the kids until the first grand child arrived. Then three years ago they went and stayed in a chalet and he crashed out in style.

He had stuck to green and blue; or rather ‘the green’ and the blues. Green runs were often low down and icy. Attractive, but often closed. There was one green in the large bowl at the top of the first lift.

The snow was looking patchy.

It had snowed last night and returned the resort to ‘winter wonderland’. So the narrow green through the trees to the bottom was now open. He took it. He’d noticed a small cafe on a walking route or a track, it did not seem to be that easily accessible by ski, though clearly people went because he had seen from the chair lift where they had skied down to rejoin the green run.

He was just mulling over where to have cafe au lait or a vin chaude. He didn’t really approve of alcohol on the slopes, and knew it was probably his Presbyterian background shining through. People had no right to have fun on top of fun. Swinging round right on the track, he came across a woman lying on her back and roaring with laughter. He saw in a second what had happened. She had come round the corner, found the path steepened and attempted to turn in an unfeasibly narrow space, to slow down. Instead, her skis had rammed into a newly built snow drift from last night, then she had fallen backwards. If his wife had done that, it would have seemed the end of the world; even a hint of a smile would have resulted in a mega sulk. She would have hated to be seen to be making such a mess. Ruefully, he realised that he had thought ‘wife’, not ‘ex-wife’; even after twenty years.

He couldn’t see the age of the woman, helmet, googles and coat hid all the easily recognisable features. But a hundred metres away, two children were labouring up the path and so he assumed they were hers and therefore (girl maybe twelve. boy was younger) thirty to forty was a reasonable guess. “Need a hand?”

“I can’t, [chuckle, chuckle], I can’t get up. I can’t move!” She was laughing again. He unclipped his skis and walked round behind her. Ski boots are incredibly stiff, a normal fall would be easier; either turn over onto hands and knees, or move forward into a crouch and up. The other choice here was to unclip the skis, but she wasn’t in favour of that for some reason. She was always worried of snow getting underneath and the binding not clicking properly.

“Perhaps if I put my hands under your arm pits and lift.”

There are two groups of people who would not realise what that would mean – young children who are not yet aware enough to know, and old people who have forgotten. Robert was in the latter camp. He squatted behind her, lifted and had to move in closer for a better lifting stance. In consequence, with her half way up, his arms were under her armpits and wrapped round her. His hands were on her boobs. She realised he wasn’t after a quick grope, and he was genuinely trying to help; so neither said a thing. The girl walking up the slope was more aware, she was just reaching puberty, she had had one experience of a boy touching her chest to feel her boobs, she could see where this strange man’s hands were. Her brother was too young to understand so far.

“Okay, I’m up. Now what? I’m still stuck.”

The two children were nearly there now. “Well, if I pull you from the top, you’ll fall over again. Perhaps if I pull just below your waist? She nodded. What the girl and boy saw was him putting his hands on her thighs, high up on her thighs.

“Oh, it’s been a while since I’ve had a man’s hands there. Oh, hello children. I ran into this snow and this nice man stopped to help.”

She was out. “You look like you need a coffee?” Though how he could see that wasn’t clear, given that she was still all but invisible in her ski-gear.

“Mummy and Daddy will be wondering where we are.” said the girl, not sure whether granny was thinking about them at the moment.

“Oh?” said Robert, “They aren’t your children then?”

“My grandchildren? Disappointed? Thought you were rescuing a damsel and found that it’s the ogress instead?”

“Not at all, I just took you for younger than you must be. Take it as a compliment.”

“I shall, but they are right. I should get on, and Ohh!” A cramp set in. Yes, she needed a break. “Look kids, you could follow this down to the bottom couldn’t you? We’ll follow, or I will, but I’ll go a lot slower.” To both girl and boy this was an adventure. They were going to ski down alone. The girl led off with the boy following, they were keen to get away before anybody changed their minds. It was fun skiing, but not so much fun when either an adult in front was saying ‘keep up’ or one behind was saying ‘careful now, not too fast’. They cut a couple of corners on the green, going ‘off piste’. They came out on the black, where the green crossed it. They looked at each other, they could see that 50 metres below, the green crossed back.

“Shall we? I won’t tell if you don’t.” Out onto the steepest hill they’d ever met. Even the widest snow plough didn’t cut it here, and kids can do really wide snow ploughs. The boy caught the bug first, at a certain speed, snowplough turns become impossible, you just have to yank both skis round. There it was! His first crude parallel turn. Not to be out done, the girl followed. Then they turned back onto the green with grins wider than their snow ploughs.

Up at the crash site, Eleanor – she had introduced herself – was ready to set off. Robert – he had reciprocated – had promised her a stop very soon. He led, and there it was! A narrow path off through the trees. But he could see the roof, it must be this. That was confirmed by a tatty old sign saying ‘Marmottes’ that only now did he notice. This was something he had always hated: being responsible for others on their holidays, especially activity holidays. If it all went wrong, he had to sort them out. If they came out onto a red or black, his wife refused point blank to try. It was tiring and wearing. Alone, if he found himself in trouble or challenged, he only had himself to worry about. Now he was at the top of a narrow track that might not, after all, lead to a nice mountain bar. Marmottes might be the name of a hunting hut, or anything. But he didn’t care, he sensed that the woman with him now would laugh it off if he was wrong.

He wasn’t wrong, they found a wooden bench and table inside. Over a coffee, and then a vin chaude (he nearly said he didn’t approve of drinks on the slopes, but she was paying, and it was nice), they introduced themselves more fully.

She was Eleanor Halbert, fifty-’something’ (“A woman has to have some secrets.” “I’d guess you’re only just fifty” “Oh, you can stay if you’re that nice all the time.” - they were flirting with each other, but it wasn’t serious), mother to Sarah who is married to John, and grandmother to Sam and JJ. “?” “Oh, Sam is Samantha, only her parents call her that, she hates it. JJ is John Junior, he hates that so JJ it is.” She has two other children and three other grand children. “Gemma – Gemima but even I think that was a mistake now – has one, but she’s single and a high flyer, I’ll get no more out of her, I’m sure. Peter probably has a few others he hasn’t mentioned, hahah.” They were skiing because it was half-term, she’d booked the apartment, they had paid for their own flights.

“That’s a bit harsh on the grand children.”

“What? Oh, haha! You know what I mean. I was happy to pay for the apartment, but not for everything. That’s why the two kids aren’t in classes, John can be a bit ... a bit cheap. Oh, does that sound awful?”

“If a parent can’t criticise his children’s partners, then there is no point in existence. And Mr Halbert?”

“Oh, he died five years ago. Bloody well worked himself to death, and it still annoys me. He was working fifteen hour days right up until he had his heart attack. I even caught him taking calls in hospital! So he had another massive one and that was that.”

“Sorry.”

She shrugged, meaning that she hadn’t got over it, but accepted that that was life (or death) “What about you?”

“Do I work long hours? Oh, no I see – I’m retired BTW.”

“Do people say BTW?”

“The people I used to work with do. Bunch of wan- I mean young people full of shit – no that’s no better is it? Anyway. Two children, one grand child. Divorced for twenty years. She – Joyce – left me for another man, it wasn’t anything I did, she said. But it was. I did skiing and sailing and walking and fitness; she did opera and ballet and plays. I did try to get involved in her life, but the longer we stayed together, the harder it was. I finally met Duncan at Joyce’s dad’s funeral, ten years ago. She didn’t want me to go, but I went, I’d known John – Joyce’s dad for long enough to feel I should pay my respects. I have to admit, Duncan is better for Joyce than me. If he hadn’t shacked up with her – they are married now – I’d have said he was gay as a basket of frogs; Oh, not offensive I hope? But anyway, if he was, she probably wouldn’t mind.”

Her turn to go “?”

“Oh I mean, bedroom activities probably minimised. Say no more.”

“Oh, I miss that. Sorry, probably too much information for a first meeting.”

“After the divorce,” he went on, ignoring what she had said, it seemed the best approach, “the children said they wouldn’t take sides. I think they meant it, but I was kind of excluded for a while.”

“She got custody I suppose?”

“Well, of Sheila, yes, Damien – I know, I know, parents have a lot to answer. Joyce said she’d always liked the name and I was too much on Cloud-9 to think it through. Anyway, he was already eighteen. But still it was natural, I suppose, that they spent more time with her not me. She had a nice house, my house, our house. I had a crappy flat in a bad area at first.

I suppose this is something I realised I had to thank Duncan for before I even met him. He instigated selling the house and me getting my share. I’m grateful for that, I started to rebuild a life.”

“Never found another mate though? You were still young enough.”

“I know, just never happened. Not really. I think I was hesitant, too hesitant, when the opportunities arose. I never really noticed them until they had passed by. I’m not one for one night stands or taking advantage of someone. There was one office party ... but never mind.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Well, this young woman came on to me. She was very drunk. She was also very attractive and much younger than me. One of my partners – it was a partnership, still is I guess, I’m a retired partner. What? Oh yes, sorry.” she had started making wind up movements, he was getting off the interesting subject. “Anyway, Harold MacIntire actually said ‘you’re in there.’ And I was, then he spoilt it by adding ‘she’s too drunk to notice’, which was also true. I couldn’t, you know, not if she was so drunk that she’d only be half aware. Anyway I did drive her home, her home I mean. Turned out she still lived with her parents, she was under thirty! They looked horrified when they saw her, and very grateful that I’d made sure she got home safe. Even offered me a cup of coffee. I was probably over the limit, but I drove home to my boring flat and that was that. Next working day, she couldn’t look at me. I told her nothing had happened, but I was flattered that she liked me. She didn’t apparently like me so much when she was sober. Can’t say I blamed her.”

“What about the partner who said you were in there?”

“Oh, yes, I made sure he understood I had been a boring perfect gentleman. He told me I was an idiot. Harold could be very crude, I won’t repeat what he actually said. [Don’t look a gift cunt in the mouth – Robert remembered]”

After, they set off down the snowy track, rejoined the green and on to the bottom, where Sarah, John, JJ and Sam were having chips. JJ was testing out the French mayonnaise and frites thing, and saying he thought it wasn’t bad. They skied over and took off googles and helmets. John smiled and said to Sam “Toyboy?”

“Sorry?” said Robert.

“Oh, sorry, Samantha here said ‘Granny’s got a toyboy’” Samantha was looking furious and embarrassed that what she said was repeated. She hated that parents were so happy to repeat embarrassing things about their children.

“Well, I for one, am greatly flattered by that description, Sam.” Robert said and smiled her.

“So, you’re okay? I would have come up Mum, but I thought you’d be down before I got there.” Eleanor’s daughter was a bit of a fusser. “I said to John that maybe skiing was too much for you now. You could have stayed in the apartment, we wouldn’t have minded.”

Eleanor had already said that she was rather used. She suspected that being in the apartment would mean she would have spent her time doing even more of the cooking and child minding whilst Sarah and John enjoyed themselves. “No, I’m fine, but my leg is a little sore, so I think I’ll take the afternoon off, have a warm soak. You four head off, I’m fine.”

Eleanor and Robert had discussed the afternoon. “I’ll probably take a break. I’m tempted to go for a swim. I could take the grand kids I suppose.”

“Or you could go and have a quiet swim on your own. Unless you want some company? You could take the children another time.”

“Yes ... and yes. If you don’t mind missing skiing? I’d love some company.”

Now, he wasn’t so dense that he hadn’t noticed that Eleanor hadn’t mentioned going swimming. ‘A warm soak’ wasn’t quite the same as swimming, it implied a warm bath, but it would be easy to adapt it to mean a gently active warm soak. He said nothing and then waved as the four went off. “Yes,” she said, “you can look after your children for the afternoon. I’ll pay for it later. I’ll have to buy pizza or something. Don’t get me wrong, I love them to bits, the grand kids I mean – well all of them – but I’m on holiday too aren’t I?”

So they went back to their separate apartments, changed into normal clothes and then met in the square and caught the Navette to the next village, where the Bains Naturelles was to be found. Fed by warm springs it was what had originally made this area a tourist attraction in Victorian times, now it took second place to the skiing. Plenty of people went in early evening, but in the afternoon it was not crowded. “You know, they do massages here too, perhaps that would help your leg?” Robert suggested as they swam gently in the water.

“Oh, no. I don’t want some Russian Masseuse with hams for hands pummelling me.”

“I don’t think it’s like that – you’ve seen too many comedies – this is an elite place, they probably have young attractive men -”

“- or women?”

“Yes, or women, that’s why I wouldn’t do it. Can you imagine ... never mind.”

“I know what you mean. I had a friend who – after rather too many glasses of Beaujolais – admitted that she’d became so relaxed as a very attractive, young man manipulated her body in ways that she wished her husband would; well she relaxed her muscles and an enormous fart erupted. She was devastated.”