A Winter Affair (9 page)

Eloise had forgotten this short but portentously lethal run and she struggled on, remembering how she used to bash her way down in the past, but now her legs felt like cotton wool and she found it hard to push them.

Someone cut in front of her, catching the tip of her ski, and she stumbled. The person behind her couldn't get out of the way in time and came tumbling down with her. They lay there on the icy snow together while other skiers steered round them, their skis rasping through the ice, perilously close to them.

‘Sorry,' the man who'd fallen on to her, said, ‘you OK?' He helped her up and she felt a stab of pain in her shoulder. It wasn't bad enough for a break, she told herself firmly, she was just bruised.

‘Thanks,' she said, as the man handed her one of her poles and with a nod he was gone. She hadn't even had a chance to apologize, and she was just grateful that he'd been so gracious, she wasn't sure that another skier would have looked so kindly on her getting in their way.

It was dangerous standing here with all the skiers rushing down around her and she started to move, her shoulder in agony as she pushed off. Just my luck, she thought as she cautiously navigated her way down to the flatter surface as the slope straightened out. She'd get some heat on it when she got back to Jacaranda and hopefully she'd be all right.

She neared the bottom of the mountain at last, hardly able to use her injured arm, just a few yards now until she reached the end. A woman wearing bright pink shot past her, almost knocking her over. Eloise swore at her as the pain flared in her shoulder, but she had to keep going as more and more skiers came down at the end of the day.

She reached the cheerful crowd congregating at the finish. Some had skied together or met up with others and were exchanging news, taking off their skis and going home to join friends or family. There was no one waiting for her and she struggled to banish her mournful feelings of self-pity. There'd be no one to commiserate with when she got back to the chalet. Vera would have gone home, and she couldn't mention it to Theo who'd tell Lawrence – he would be furious she'd hurt herself and might ban her from skiing altogether, or even worse, call in Aurelia. It was only because she had hurt herself and yearned for a word of comfort that she felt this way, she told herself firmly.

Stiffly she released her skies and bent down to pick them up to carry them to the jeep. Among the cheerful crowd jostling beside her she caught sight of the woman in pink and beside her a familiar face. It was Harvey.

Head down, Eloise hurried back to the jeep in the crowded car park. She was relieved she was wearing a hat, which she pulled tight down now and she kept her goggles on, hoping Harvey wouldn't catch sight of her, or if he did she'd be just another anonymous skier, or, more likely, he'd be so wrapped up in the woman in pink he would not even notice her.

She had not seen her ex-husband since that painful day in court eight months ago where they'd gone to sort out the division of their assets. The soulless rooms of the divorce court were a stark contrast to the pretty old church and banks of scented flowers of their wedding day. It had felt so right, a perfect backdrop for starting their life together. The beginning of their marriage clothed in such beauty and hope, and then ended in such pain and despair, conducted in a place that held lost dreams and broken hearts.

It was sod's law that Harvey was here at the same time as she was. He loved skiing and Verbier was one of the best resorts, so it made sense that he was here. Was he here for Christmas, or just this week and, more importantly, who was he with?

She forgot the pain in her shoulder, the pain in her heart was far worse. She thought she'd got over him, or was at least well on the way to accepting the end of their marriage. But seeing him here caused a fresh stab of sadness and anxiety.

She wondered if Saskia knew Harvey was here, though why should she? Verbier was now enormous, with chalets and hotels dotted all over the place, and people came in from other nearby resorts to ski the vast slopes. It was possible to spend time here and not even glimpse friends and acquaintances. He might not even be staying here but be in Nendaz or some other resort.

She drove slowly back to Jacaranda. The joy that had filled her while she'd skied in the open spaces, the sharp, clean air and the beauty of the mountains, even on a grey day, evaporated. Seeing Harvey had spoilt it, though surely he didn't know she was here, unless the children had told him? She'd asked them not to say anything about it in case she was mortifyingly sent home before Christmas, but perhaps it had slipped out when the twins were talking to him. It was so hard to change the way you'd always behaved with someone close, especially a beloved parent; she couldn't blame them. On the other hand, it could just be a dreadful coincidence. She could hole up in the chalet, which was thankfully not in the centre of everything, and keep out of his way. But why should she? She wanted to enjoy the mountains and skiing too while she was here. And if the children
had
told him she was here, he knew the way to Jacaranda, in the unlikely event that he'd come to find her.

She reached the chalet and parked the jeep. Her shoulder was hurting more now; she must soak it under a hot shower, or better still she could soak in the bath in one of the rooms on the first floor, if everyone was out.

She put her skis away in the shed and saw there were two other pairs there, still damp from the snow. The skis were not Theo's or Lawrence's; they must belong to two of the guests. She sighed; she wouldn't be able to use the bath now. She went inside, taking off her boots and hanging up her ski jacket. There was a scuffling sound from the floor above where the bedrooms were. She hoped the guests hadn't taken all the hot water or that they would now want tea before she had time to soothe her shoulder under the shower.

She went upstairs quietly in her stockinged feet and saw Celia coming out of a bedroom which was not Celia's bedroom. She and her husband Derek slept on the other side of the landing, Eloise remembered: Celia had come out of Susie and Neil's room. Perhaps both women had returned early and were just gossiping, though by the guilty look on Celia's face, Eloise doubted it.

‘Oh, it's you,' Celia said, her face flushing, her eyes defiant, ‘good day?'

‘Yes thanks and you?' Eloise replied.

Celia's shirt was hanging out of the back of her jeans, her hair was all mussed and she had a sort of glow tinged with guilt that gave her away.

‘Great,' Celia said, not looking at her.

Eloise crossed the landing to the small staircase in the corner that led to the upper floor, and Celia darted into her own bedroom and shut the door. Upstairs, in her room, Eloise lay down on the bed, her heart full. Was everyone at it, cheating on their partners? she wondered in despair. Was Derek somewhere with Susie, and what about Harvey, who was he with, his large-bosomed sex toy or someone else? Painful jealousy curled into her like a snake. She knew now that Harvey was incapable of loving anyone but himself but still it hurt. And Lawrence was he with Aurelia? Everyone but her paired up?

She was reminded of Saskia's comment about Aurelia wanting Jacaranda; she supposed combining the two together – Aurelia's food and Lawrence's lovely, old chalet – could make them a fortune. There were quite a few super luxury chalets out here now, all spruced up with gyms, Jacuzzis and cinemas, but Jacaranda had genuine old-fashioned charm, class you could call it, something the new-builds often didn't achieve. If Aurelia got her teeth into Jacaranda she might be able to make it
the
place the super rich wanted to rent, but she feared she'd change it for the worse, take away its unique atmosphere. She'd probably build on the garden: there was space enough for another chalet, perhaps a small pool and gym, even a cinema, so no one need go out after a day on the mountains, or mix with other people in the village. But it was pointless thinking of it, or caring who was in bed with whom. It was nothing whatever to do with her; she was only the cook, and only here for a short time.

It was seeing Harvey here that had upset her, churned up the painful emotions again, making her feel out of it, unloved and unwanted.

But she must stop feeling sorry for herself, have her shower – in fact she'd have a bath in one of the rooms on the floor below, she decided firmly, and hang what Celia and Neil thought, they could hardly tell her what was right and wrong. She undressed painfully, put on her towelling gown and went down the stairs and into the bathroom, locking the door.

The bath took some time to fill, the water juddering in from the old brass taps, and when she sank down into the warmth, she tried to keep her shoulder under the water to ease it. It worked a little but it was still sore when she was dressed, but she must prepare the dinner.

‘Good day?' Lawrence said later, coming into the kitchen to get the wine ready for the evening meal.

‘Yes, and you?' She winced as she lifted the pan from the stove as the pain from her shoulder bit, turning from him so he wouldn't notice the anguish in her expression.

‘Yes, I skied down to Nendaz,' he said. ‘Where did you go?'

‘Mont Fort. I skied with Saskia, I'm so glad she's here, a friend from the past.' She wasn't going to say she'd spied her ex-husband, she might cry, cause Lawrence to panic, think that she'd be too emotional to cook. She wondered if Lawrence knew him, she couldn't remember if they'd ever met here in Jacaranda all those years ago.

‘Nice for you. Now what's the menu, red or white, or probably both?' He smiled at her and caught her grimace of pain as she turned to face him. ‘What's wrong?' His smile changed into a frown, a worried look in his eyes. ‘Don't tell me you've hurt yourself…'

‘No, I'm just stiff, haven't skied for a few years,' she said hurriedly, bending down to look in the oven on the pretext of seeing how the slow roast duck was progressing.

‘Please be careful, Eloise.' He watched her with concern as she stood up, studying her for a moment, making her feel he was worried about her, soothing her pain before going on, ‘You've got a lot of cooking to do over the Christmas week.'

‘I know,' she muttered, now feeling near tears. She'd told herself that taking this job would be an escape from her pain and loneliness as she adjusted to her new life as a single woman again. But it was out of the fat into the fire, with Harvey being here with goodness knew who and now Lawrence worried that she would not be able to cook for his blessed clients.

Perhaps feeling he'd upset her, Lawrence said with a roughish smile, ‘Like the apron.'

She'd forgotten the words ‘kiss the cook' were blazoned across the front.

The guests, especially Celia and Neil, who were obviously nursing guilty consciences, were especially glowing in their praise of the dinner when Eloise came in to clear the plates. Theo had disappeared on a night out and Vera had the evening off.

‘That duck was delicious, do tell me what was in the recipe,' Celia said, her staring doll-like eyes homing in on Eloise.

‘Oh, it was just roasted slowly with honey and orange and a bit of basil and fresh ginger, glad you liked it,' she said, not looking at her. She put the pudding, a chocolate roulade, and a plate of tuile biscuits, on the table in the space Neil quickly cleared for her.

‘And the stuffing balls, rather like people do with the turkey at Christmas,' Celia went on, slightly frantically. Eloise wondered if Celia was afraid she'd suddenly announce to them all that she'd caught her bed-hopping when she'd come back to the chalet earlier in the day.

Lawrence helped stack the dirty plates and serving dishes on to the tray before going round again with the wine. Worried she might drop the tray with her sore shoulder, Eloise was relieved when Neil jumped up to take it from her and then insisted – despite Lawrence's protests that he'd just finish replenishing the wine glasses before carrying it to the kitchen himself – on ferrying the rest of the used dishes to the kitchen. Eloise thanked him but stayed by the table, handing out clean plates, determined not to be alone with Neil in the kitchen and have to listen to his explanation of his bedroom antics. By their covetous looks at each other she guessed they were frantic to explain, but she didn't want to know. Their sex life was their own business, though it triggered painful memories of Harvey's infidelities. Perhaps many people were like that if they could get away with it. Though Eloise was not going to embark on any new love affairs if one should come her way for a very long time, if ever again.

Neil came meekly back, throwing her a petulant glance, which she ignored, and she left them, returning to the kitchen to stack the plates in the dishwasher. She was grateful that she wouldn't have to see them tomorrow evening; they were all out to supper. Initially she had planned to spend the whole day on the slopes, but after injuring herself today, she didn't want to make her shoulder worse, she told herself, not wanting to admit the real reason for staying at the chalet was that she didn't want to come across Harvey with his pink-clad sexpot. She could imagine their meeting. Harvey would hide his consternation under his charming, boyish smile – the naughty boy who loved her really, only she saw through it now and his charm appeared fake and foolish.

There was plenty to do here anyway, not least the menus for Christmas. She didn't know if the guests would be skiing on Christmas Day itself and how many other meals there'd be to cater for. Perhaps the Christmas guests would have a party, invite people in. She must check it all with Lawrence, but he beat her to it.

He came into the kitchen at the end of dinner and said, ‘That was delicious; everyone enjoyed it, well done, Eloise. Now have you thought about your menus over Christmas? I think we should meet tomorrow to discuss them.'

‘Exactly what I thought,' she agreed, warmed by his praise, though she wondered if the compliments had come from Neil and Celia, intended as a sort of bribe to keep Eloise quiet about their sexy interlude. ‘I'll start buying the things – chestnuts, butter and stuff that will keep. Do the food stores stay open?'