Andy sits down, head in hands. ‘This is bad.’
‘They might be at the chalet,’ I say, hearing the desperation even in my own voice.
‘And if they’re not?’
‘They might be in one of the bars,’ I offer, though I’m already fearing the worst.
‘How are we going to know, though? There are masses of bars! They could be anywhere!’
‘If they’re down, they should have let us know they’re safe, shouldn’t they?’ I persist. I sound pathetic even to my own ears.
‘They should have, but you know what punters are like – they don’t think. And it’s getting dark now.’
‘I think we should give it till six,’ I say.
‘And if they’re not back by then?’
‘Well then, I guess … I guess we have to call rescue.’
‘Who won’t be able to do anything in this weather.’ There’s a pause. ‘If they’re not back, they don’t stand a chance.’
The phone rings.
11
2018, London
Hugo
After Ria spent that first night with me, she never really moved out again. I couldn’t believe my luck. I don’t remember asking her to move in – it happened by degrees. I cleared a drawer out for her stuff because she was staying so often, then a cupboard, then her letters started arriving there ‘because it’s easier as I’m here the whole time anyway’. I didn’t mind in the slightest; I’d never lived with a woman before and seeing her stuff around the place made it feel like a proper home, rather than somewhere I just came to play X-Box and sleep after work.
After a month or so she said she thought it was pointless her paying rent on her flat, so would it be OK if she brought the rest of her stuff over? It was only then I realized I’d never been to her flat. I asked her why.
Her face fell. ‘My weird flatmate’s always there. Plus I’m too embarrassed for you to see it. It’s a hole.’
I took her hand. ‘Why would you be embarrassed? London is expensive, you’re running your own business in tricky times – there’s no shame in finding things a bit of a struggle.’
‘Yeah but you’ve got all this.’ She cast her hand around the flat, indicating my glass wall overlooking Tower Bridge, my state-of-the-art Bang and Olufsen speakers, and the early Damian Hirst that I’d bought last Christmas for the exposed-brick wall above the reclaimed fireplace. ‘I’d feel like the poor relation, taking you to mine. I used to have my own little place, which was nice enough – nothing like this, obviously – but … well, I had to sell it.’
I nodded, assuming she couldn’t keep up with the mortgage payments. It’s not exactly uncommon. I took her in my arms, squeezed her tight and then let her go, feeling a stab of love for her as I saw that tears were brimming in her eyes.
‘I inherited the money to buy this flat, and the business, from my father, as you know,’ I said. ‘I work hard, but all this was pretty much handed to me on a plate. And I doubt I’d have managed to hang on to it if it wasn’t for Olivia and the other people around me who are much better at all this stuff than I am.’ I put an arm around her again and kissed her forehead. ‘You’re building your business up from scratch. In my book, that’s much more impressive than having a smart place to live.’
She smiled weakly. ‘I love you,’ she said, burrowing her head into my chest.
I grinned. It was the first time she’d said it. ‘I love you too,’ I replied. I’d been dying to tell her for ages.
After that, things between Ria and me moved quickly. Olivia disapproved – there were a lot of sly references to gold-digging and the like – but I was in love and Ria loved me, I was sure of it. And even if she didn’t, as far as I could see, Ria was as good as I was ever going to get. For me, that was enough. I loved her. I’d be a good husband to her, she would be a good wife to me and … well, that’s about everything you could want in a marriage, isn’t it? I’d never been as happy as I had since Ria came into my life and there was no way I wanted things to go back to how they were before. I wanted to marry Ria, have children with her, buy her things, and make her happy. That was what I wanted from life and it was none of Olivia’s business.
I was nearly forty by then, Ria almost the same age, so if we wanted children, there was no time to waste. Six weeks after we met, I took her to Paris and proposed at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It might not have been the most original idea, but she said yes, which was all that mattered.
Three months later we got married in Las Vegas – just us, no friends, or family. Ria didn’t want a traditional wedding and I didn’t mind what we did as long as she was happy. She agreed to stop taking the pill and we had lots of sex. For the first few months at least.
Her events planning business went from strength to strength, following a cash injection from me. Meantime, several terrorist events in a row and currency changes meant that things weren’t so good for Redbush Holidays. Which is why I so desperately need Simon to invest – I wish Ria would take that on board and stop behaving so badly.
12
January 2020, La Madière, France
Ria
With Hugo and Simon out skiing, I settle down on the sofa with my iPad to read. When everyone else is out, it’s actually pretty nice here. The leather sofa I’m lounging on, covered in cosy throws and furry cushions, is one of the most comfortable I’ve ever experienced. The rugs are deep and sumptuous and the view is exquisite, Millie has lit the fire and it’s crackling away. It’s a far cry from the caravan holidays I was used to in my childhood, but very much the kind of thing I’ve enjoyed since I met Hugo. My jumper is Brora and my cashmere socks are from The White Company. It would be difficult to feel more cosy and snug, so I’m not remotely tempted to go out skiing in this terrible weather. If only I could stay here alone and not feel like I had to chat to boring Cass, suck up to sad sack Simon, and fend off Hugo’s advances, it would all be pretty sweet.
Half an hour later, there’s a knock at the door. It’s Matt. Arse. If I’d known he was coming round I’d have put some make-up on at least. I smooth my hair and smile. ‘Hey.’
He smiles back. ‘Hi, Ria. I thought I’d pop by and check everything’s OK after all that … business with Cass this morning? Is she all right?’
‘Come in!’ I usher him inside, frowning at the blizzard blowing outside. He stamps his feet on the mat and comes in. ‘Sit down,’ I say, indicating the fabulous sofa. I might find out what brand it is and see if I can persuade Hugo to get us one for home. ‘Yes, I think Cass is fine,’ I continue. ‘She’s in her room. Probably having a nap.’
Matt nods and sits down at one end of the enormous sofa. I sit down at the opposite end, tucking my feet under me. His eyes travel down my body and then back up to my face. I smirk subtly at him.
‘So … um,’ he says, reddening. ‘I saw the boys heading off skiing as I arrived. Simon said they’d booked a guide I think and were hoping to get off-piste?’