It's Got to Be Perfect: the memoirs of a modern-day matchmaker (33 page)

‘Keep your eyes focused on the sign down there. That’s where we’re going.’

‘What, the one that says “Caution Hazard”?’

‘No, the one behind it that says “Happy hour”.’ He smiled before moving off slowly, carving out a route for her to follow.

I stood behind Emily and looked ahead. The bright white of the snow made my eyes water. I pulled down my goggles but even so, I could barely make out what lie ahead.

Mike sprint-skied down the final part of the run, concluding with a dramatic stop just in front of Victoria. He flipped off his skis and swaggered into the bar, a casual glance over his shoulder to check Victoria had witnessed. She followed nonchalantly, pulling up her purple glasses onto her head and unzipping her suit down to her waist. Cassandra and Dr Stud quickly joined them, their child-like giggles echoing up the slopes.

When a haze softened the light, and my eyes could eventually focus, I looked at Mr Marbella and watched his eyes track Emily. Soon clarity replaced confusion. I noticed the way he looked at her: the intensity in his gaze, the slight furrow of his brow, the gentle curl to his lips. My stomach flipped and my hands started trembling. I recognised that look. It was the exact same way Nick used to look at me, the way he looked at me as I devoured the sashimi on our first date, the way I’d caught him staring at me during the months that followed. The look that had waned with time.

Suddenly, though, Mr Marbella’s expression changed. His half-smile dropped and his eyes widened.

‘
Achtung
!’ a voice shouted from behind us, accompanied by rumbling sound though the snow.

I glanced around to see a snowboarder, ploughing down the side of the run, the side that Emily was just turning into. I looked on, my muscles paralysed, my voice mute. Mr Marbella sped towards her, but it was too late and his face contorted as the boarder smacked into Emily and sent her tumbling down the hill.

Before I could blink, Mr Marbella was by her side. He scooped her up and skied down to the bar with her in his arms as though he were the King of the Slopes. The crowd on the terrace outside, who had been drinking and laughing one moment earlier were now silent, their mouths open and their faces creased with concern.

‘Oh my Gaaad!’ wailed Cassandra, rushing over, as Mr Marbella lay Emily down on the decking.

‘Emily, are you okay?’ Mr Marbella asked, stroking her cheek.

‘I’m fine,’ she said, brushing him off and then trying to lift herself up.

‘Ow, that hurts.’

‘They’ve called the medical team, they’ll be here in a minute,’ Dr Stud said.

Mr Marbella frowned. ‘You’re a doctor. Can’t you check her out?’

Cassandra stepped forward, hands on hips. ‘He’s a gynaecologist. I doubt now is an appropriate time for a Pap smear.’

Mr Marbella glared at Dr Stud and then began to feel Emily’s neck, arms and legs. ‘Where does it hurt?’

‘My ankle,’ she replied, collapsing back down, tears filling her eyes.

Mr Marbella’s jaw tensed. He placed Emily’s ankle gently down on the decking and then stood up and looked around the bar. He paced the terrace for a moment until his gaze locked on a tall man shoving a snowboard in the stand. Mr Marbella walked towards him, said something in German and then swung a punch upwards into the man’s jaw. The man swayed for a few seconds and then fell face-first in the snow. The audience gasped. Then Mr Marbella picked up the board and smashed it against the decking, breaking it in two.

‘Uh-oh,’ Mike said as three of the man’s friends began striding towards Mr Marbella, pushing up their sleeves and clenching their fists. Mike put down his pint and walked towards them.

Before Mike could reach them, Mr Marbella, armed with a ski, hit the first over the head. The man dropped to the ground. The second he took down with an upwards flick of the ski to his jaw. When it came to the third, he threw down the ski, gripped the man’s jacket, pulling him towards him. He stood on tip-toes and then smacked his forehead into the man’s face. When the man collapsed into the snow alongside his friends, the crowd roared as though they had just witnessed a gladiator victory at the coliseum.

Mr Marbella pushed through the now chanting mob, towards Emily who was being propped up on a deck chair by one paramedic, while another wrapped a bandage around her ankle.

She rolled her eyes. ‘My hero.’

Mr Marbella turned to me with a smile. ‘Is there no pleasing her?’

She laughed. ‘Was I supposed to be impressed by that lame display of testosterone?’

He smiled. ‘As displays of testosterone go, that was not lame.’

Emily’s eyes twinkled through her smirk.

‘See, she does like me really,’ he said.

‘Yeah, I also like my bulldog, Trevor.’

He laughed. ‘Okay then, Miss Hard-to-get. I’m going to the bar, is it too non-PC of me to offer you a drink?’

‘I’ll have a slippery nipple,’ she said, still smirking.

He raised his eyebrows.

‘A pink, upwards-pointing one if you can get it?’ she said.

He nodded and then walked away with a baffled expression.

After he’d left, I turned to her. ‘How do you know about that?’

She looked down at the decking. ‘I was there.’

‘When?’

‘When Mia interviewed him. I was in the bar.’

I was still frowning.

She leaned forward. ‘I wanted to do my due diligence before meeting you, so I sort of spied on a few of your consultations.’

I laughed, realising that was exactly the kind of thing I would have done.

‘Phew,’ she said. ‘Glad you’re not pissed off.’

‘No, not at all. But why?’

‘Why did I spy?’

‘No, why did you sign up, after overhearing his consultation?’

Just as she was about to reply, Mr Marbella appeared with a tray of slippery nipples.

Several trays later, Mandi and Minky joined us with their chalet guests, by which time the bar’s clientele were dancing on the tables, the benches and various other improvised platforms, consumed in a Euro-pop frenzy. Cassandra and Dr Stud were drawing a crowd with a combination of moves that I suspected St Anton had never witnessed before and I doubted would ever witness again. It was as though two forces had joined to create something unique, something disconcertingly greater than the sum of its parts. Mike was still trailing Victoria like a Beagle after a fox, and Emily, despite her sprained ankle, and the fact that she was confined to a deck chair, was smiling a smile wider than anything the chalet staff could have mustered.

While I was ordering another tray of slippery nipples, Mr Marbella appeared next to me at the bar.

‘Do you think I’m in with a chance?’ he asked.

I scrunched up my mouth. ‘You and Emily?’

He squinted. ‘No, me and Mike.’

I laughed. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s just –’

‘Just what?’

I shook my head. ‘Nothing.’

He lifted his hands. ‘Look I never thought I’d fall for a girl like –’

‘Fall for?’

He flushed.

‘Are you blushing?’

‘No.’ He fanned his face. ‘It’s hot in here.’

I smiled. ‘Yes.’

‘Yes what?’

‘Yes, you’re in with a chance.’

He grinned.

‘But,’ I nodded towards, Zac the 6ft 3in American from Mandi’s chalet who was now helping Emily out of her chair. ‘You know you’ve got competition.’

‘That little twerp?’

‘Little?’

‘He’s a total wanker. I heard him ask the waitress for a threesome.’

‘Maybe he was just ordering a drink? The cocktail menu lists some ambiguous creations.’

‘No,’ he said, his jugular twitching, ‘there’s no way he cares about Emily like …’ He paused. ‘Come on, help me out here.’

‘Okay,’ I said, taking the tray of drinks from the barman. ‘You need to find a way to get rid of Zac, so you can tell her how you feel.’

He grabbed two slippery nipples from the tray and then glared at Zac while nodding slowly.

‘Got it,’ he said. ‘Thanks babes.’

After I’d distributed the rest of the drinks, I grabbed my ski jacket, pushed open the wooden doors and walked out into the night air. Its frosty glaze clung to my face as I stood on the decking and looked up at the mountains. Their peaks were kissed by clouds dense with snow. Snow that would drop tonight, billions of flakes all united in their purpose. The morning would see the ground carpeted again, hazardous terrain softened once more. Away from the destruction and complications of human existence, nature’s default was peace and harmony. Maybe I could hoard things in the Austrian mountains rather than the English countryside? “Crazy bag lady and her canine companions relocate to St Anton.” I could swap chutney for
gluhwein
and maybe learn to play the accordion, though my hoarding of bric-a-brac would be more doily-centred and the dogs might need some fleece-lined coats.

I turned back to the bar and looked through the window. As I watched everyone drinking and laughing, I wondered if I was destined to be the spectator rather than the participant. The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow interrupted my thoughts and I turned to see a jacket-less Victoria staggering towards me.

‘I kissed him,’ she said leaning against me. I pushed her back and she wobbled like a Weeble. ‘I missed Kike.’ She shook her head. ‘I mean I kissed Mike.’

I looked ahead, saying nothing.

‘You’ve got to talk to me at some point,’ she said. ‘It’s physically impossible …’ She paused and then frowned ‘… I mean humanly impossible to ignore someone for an entire week.’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘Hah! Got you.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Now we’re officially talking again.’

I sighed, looking up at the clouds, and hoping they might intervene and drop a large block of ice on her head.

‘He’s the first boy I’ve kissed since Patrick.’

I turned to her. ‘Really?’

‘Oh, you just don’t get it do you?’ Her face scrunched up in an exaggerated frown. ‘You always want to believe the worst of me.’

I noticed my hands were on my hips, but I left them there.

‘You dated Nick, despite the fact that you knew it would hurt me. Despite the fact that you knew I was still in love with him.’

She let out a deep sigh. ‘I needed to do it to prove to you that you did.’

‘What? You’re not making any sense.’

‘I’m a bit drunk.’ She swayed from side to side as though further evidence were required. ‘I needed to prove to you that you still loved him.’

‘By dating him?’

‘I didn’t date him silly. It was a test to see how much you still loved him.’

‘What? I don’t understand. So you didn’t date him?’

‘No.’

‘So Facebook was a lie?’

‘You do it all the time with your clients.’

‘What, lie to them?’

‘Yes, sometimes you do, if you think it will help them.’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘You do.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Do.’

‘Don’t.’

‘Do.’

‘Don’t. Don’t, Don’t!’ I shouted. ‘And what about Robert, what was that all about?’

‘I didn’t want him messing everything up.’

‘So, your plan was to date my ex-boyfriends in order to help me?’

‘No, that’s not what I said.’

‘Well, what are you trying to say?’

‘I was trying to help.’

‘Help? What gives you the right to be meddling in my life?’

‘It’s what you do. You’ve made a profession out of it.’

‘People ask for my help. They want me to meddle. They ask me to meddle.’

‘Would you ever ask for help, though?’ She looked at me, her face almost pressing against mine. ‘Would you?’ She asked again louder this time. ‘No, you wouldn’t, because you’re too proud. Proudy, proudy, proudpants!’

‘Well
your
help I can do without,’ I said, turning my back on her.

‘We’ll see about that.’

She went to flounce off, but her foot was wedged in the snow and she lurched forward. Instinctively I grabbed her arm to stop her from falling.

She looked up at me, her eyes wide. ‘Did you even open it?’

‘Open what?’

‘The letter.’

I let go of her arm. ‘No, not yet.’

She wedged each foot in the snow, presumably to stabilise herself. ‘He thinks you cheated on him.’

My stomach flipped. ‘What?’

‘With the penis.’

‘What penis?’

‘The one you drew.’

My mind raced, flicking through all its phallus-themed files. ‘Oh. The elephant. I wondered where that had gone.’

‘Yes, so did Nick.’

‘It wasn’t me who drew it.’

‘I know. But he said it wasn’t the first time. That he’d found a penis photo on your phone when you met: a closeup with a dog in the background.’

‘I hope you explained that one.’

‘Yes, though not entirely. Anyway I’d just about convinced him. And then photos of you and Robert popped up on Facebook.’

I frowned. ‘Photos?’

She nodded. ‘On Robert’s profile, he tagged you at that wedding, didn’t you see?’

I shook my head.

‘There was one of you with some old guy doing a weird dance, and then one of Robert stroking your hair.’

I sighed. ‘But nothing happened.’

‘I know that,’ she said, pulling her foot from the snow. ‘And he knows it deep down too.’

I looked up at the clouds that had been capping the mountains to see they had lifted, exposing the peaks. I took a long deep breath.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said wrapping my coat around the both of us. ‘I’ve been such an idiot.’

She smiled. ‘I only ever wanted to help you.’

We linked arms as we walked back towards the bar.

‘Anyway, silly, didn’t you wonder why my brother represented you for free?’

I stared at her for a moment. ‘David is your brother?’

‘Although I didn’t count on you matching him with that little glamour girl.’ She laughed. ‘He’s besotted now.’

Our giggles had subsided by the time we walked back into the bar. Then straight away, I noticed Zac leaning against the table, next to Emily, rubbing his head and wobbling from side to side. A sudden realisation hit me like a Mr Marbella ski-slap.

‘Oh no,’ I said, waiting for the fall.

After a couple more wobbles, Zac hit the ground like a felled tree. My gaze shifted to Mr Marbella who was looking on, a sardonic smile creeping out from the corners of his mouth.