Chapter 7

Day 5 – Thursday

Thursday dawned bright, sunny, clear and perishingly cold. It is always a mystery to many English how mountains can be sunny and colder than if it is overcast. The lessons went well, except that Rupert opted to skip his. The instructor didn’t mind, didn’t care actually. Georges Santemue was not unusual as a ski instructor. He did it so he could ski the mountains for free, and so he could occasionally (maybe every third week) find some woman willing to let him demonstrate his bedroom technique too. In fact, his skiing was a lot more skillful than his love making. What this all adds up to is that he couldn’t care less if people paid for lessons and then dropped out. Rupert wanted to practise on runs without having to wait for slower skiers, and without having to listen to some garbled English that was meant to tell him how to get into proper parallel skiing.

“Be careful Rupert. See you at lunchtime.” Was Abigail’s comment when she heard. She wasn’t planning to be held back by anybody. She was the first onto a newly pisted red run that she had done with her father the day before. He was finding that his body was no longer indestructible and he wanted an easier day so he told his wife that she needed to be helped along. She didn’t know this; she’d been very happy taking it very very easy, but still, she didn’t object. She was mulling over having a vin chaude when they stopped for coffee. It would be safer if he was with her (half-convinced that one glass of warm red wine and she’d go crazy and hit the slopes like a mad woman), or that they might stop early again. She was less concerned about the cost of the ski passes not being given full use.

Abi got up to the run. Looked down it, smiled and said out loud “Hit it, bitch!”. Which wasn’t her usual mode of communication. With that a couple who had just got off the chairlift behind her, and were wondering how many sweeping turns to put in, saw a girl launch herself off the slope – literally. She dug her poles in in front of her and as she started forward she kept her arms stiff and both skis jumped into air briefly before landing; already at a speed that the couple were thinking was their maximum velocity. She shot down, putting in small curves and leaving what looked like a vapour trail. Two kilometres later, she screeched to a halt as the red joined a blue. Screeched was genuine, she let out a screech of delight “YEEEEEAAAAA!”. Then she set off sedately at a sensible pace with young wannabees thinking they were the bees knees overtaking her. One crashed out and would tell everybody he just lost it or hit a stone or some excuse. It was never because he wasn’t competent enough.

Linda appeared for her class with a beatific smile. She was happy about something, her mother hoped it wasn’t what she feared it was. But it wasn’t, she was still a virgin, but she was a very experienced virgin. Lucy appeared too, and her mother knew that that look meant it WAS what she feared it was. “Oh well, she’s of age. She looks happy enough.” Which was a better reaction than ‘you, boy! You fucking well fucked by fucking daughter!’ which was what her father had said to Keith, and hadn’t actually been true. She smiled at the memory. Keith usually had a red rosey complexion (like Lancashite, she’d said to him, being from Yorkshire herself), but at that moment, he’d been the epitome of a white rose of York.

Rupert found himself in a lift queue with Lucy’s class. He adjusted his position so she joined him. She had a broad smile when she saw him. The four person lift had two others beside them chattering away in French. She hadn’t enough experience to know that everybody except the British on ski holidays speak two languages: their own and English (usually). She leant over and (assuming the others wouldn’t understand) said “I like sex.” The disembarkation point was coming, Rupert just said “I’m glad.” As they all stood up to slide off, the woman beside him looked round and said to Lucy “Moi aussi. J’aime le sex.” and skied away. Lucy looked shocked and then laughed. She’d never see the people again. She waved and skied to her group.

Rupert found himself looking down a wide red run. Wide and not too steep. Why not? He set off down the wide slope, 100 metres on, he discovered why it was red. The wide run narrowed, and narrowed as it entered the trees. Now it was a U-shaped valley and he discovered with a laugh that he could go back and forth up one side, turn, down and up the other. It was fun, at the end of the valley there was drop. A steep drop. If it had been mogulled, it would have been a black. But it was flat. Flat, but very steep. He talked to himself all the way down telling himself when to turn. It was the most scary thing he had ever done. At the bottom, his smile was a mile wide. Scary but real fun. He carried on down and then went up and did a blue run to the square. “Hi. Guess what! I did the scariest red run ever! It was great fun.” Abigail floated over and didn’t say anything about her bullet run down her red. Don’t rain on his parade.

So they had lunch and then all went off together to ski some easy, or easier, runs.

Friday would require the equipment to be returned, the apartments cleaned. So Thursday would be the last long day. Over and over, they did ‘one more run’. It was just too tempting. When they finally got the last lift, the five were tired out. Well three were, Lucy was actually quite fit and still on something like cloud nine from her previous night of sex. Abigail was still floating down the runs like they were a walk in the park – which to her, they were. She mentioned to Mary how she had hit the red that morning. “Wow! Will you do it again? Can I watch from somewhere.” And that was how the group came to agree that the next day they would all go up and Abi and Rupert, and anybody else who wanted to, would do the red, and the rest would carry on round the edge of the snow bowl and see them at the bottom.

Then it was a mad scramble to dress for dinner. Ami put on her short skirt (with thick tights), Rupert changed his socks, Mary put on the shirt she had reserved for travelling, Lucy and Linda regretted that they hadn’t anything special to wear and Abigail just put on jeans and teeshirt. The teeshirt didn’t hide that fact that her bra was thin and allowed nipples to poke up. She was advised to put on a sweatshirt by her mother, knowing that her father wouldn’t know where to look. Abi leant in to Rupert as they walked to the restaurant. “Don’t drink too much.” She was the only one of his three special friends not to have received his particular special treatment. Well, tonight she wanted him. End of. If he failed to get it up, he’d be sorry (not just sorry to have missed four nights of sex in a row, but sorry because she would make his life a misery).

The evening was the kind that families always hope to have, but rarely do. Usually someone was grumpy, or says something to annoy Great Aunt Agi, or someone drinks too much, or the atmosphere just never quite reaches the pitch it should. None of these pitfalls happened.

The sitting room was taken by Abi and Rupert. Mary and Amelie lay in the double bed and kissed; then they each pleased themselves rather than each other.