‘What a good idea!’ I trill. ‘That would be lovely.’
I turn back to my iPad, quite certain that a lift will close, I’ll get lost or something else will make me miss my lunch date. ‘Cass could come with us too if she’d like,’ I add, making a mental note to make sure that, one way or another, she won’t want to. Judging by the ski lesson I joined her for briefly, she doesn’t enjoy skiing much, so I don’t think it will be difficult. I might book her a nice spa day as a ‘treat’ to make sure.
Millie cuts the cake, places a slice on each plate and hands them round. ‘Hugo, Simon, I understand from head office that you were both keen to meet Cameron, the owner of this chalet and some of the others in the resort. He’s planning to come for dinner this evening – assuming it suits you, that is. Would that work for you all?’
Simon nods, stuffing his face full of cake. ‘Fine,’ he mumbles, crumbs unpleasantly falling out of his mouth as he does so. He swallows the huge mouthful with a large gulp and belches. ‘’S’cuse me. Looking forward to meeting him.’
‘Great!’ Millie says. ‘I’ll let him know. Now, if you have everything you need, I’ll go and get on with preparing dinner.’
‘Better be a good one if the boss is coming, eh?’ Simon quips.
‘Absolutely. Although I hope all the meals I prepare are equally as good?’
‘You’ve got no worries there. We’re only going to say nice things about you,’ Simon adds, staring at Millie’s ample boobs. He may as well have smacked her on the bum. I don’t know how she puts up with it.
‘Thank you. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything else, otherwise I’ll see you for canapés at about eight?’
‘That sounds lovely, Millie, thank you,’ I say, to avoid giving Simon the chance to say anything suggestive.
Hugo turns to look out of the enormous window. ‘It’s really coming down now,’ he says.
Simon claps him on the back. ‘Great!’ he roars. ‘Imagine the powder tomorrow!’
16
December 1998, La Madière, France
‘The most important thing is that we get our stories straight,’ I tell Andy as soon as I put the phone down.
‘What do you mean? I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not getting involved.’
‘You’re already involved. You were with me when we lost them. You helped me search.’
‘And that’s bad because …’
‘It’s not!’ I hiss. ‘But not only have we lost two men, in retrospect, we probably should have alerted the authorities earlier. Given the conditions.’ I wipe my hand over my face. ‘This is serious stuff, Andy.’
‘But you’re the boss, as you never tire of telling me.’
I pull Andy closer to me so that our faces are almost touching. ‘You were with me – I didn’t hear you saying we should call rescue out,’ I growl. ‘Both of us skied too fast at times, we didn’t always put the clients’ needs first. Either of us. We are in this together. OK? I go down, so do you. Neither of us have covered ourselves in glory here. The way we dealt with things wasn’t exactly textbook, was it? Richard saw both of us with the clients. You and I are both on all the business documents, even though I put in pretty much all the money. So you are as liable as me. Understood?’
Andy violently wrenches out of my grasp. ‘Let go of me, OK? Fine. Let’s get our stories straight then.’
17
Daily Mail
30 December, 1998
One of two men missing in La Madière in the French Alps has been found alive following an extensive search. The British man in his twenties was airlifted to Grenoble Hospital yesterday, where he remains in a critical condition.
Another man, believed to be his brother, is still missing. François Delpont, leading the rescue said: ‘We have a large team of experts searching the mountain where the brothers were skiing, but local weather conditions are making the search difficult. We are delighted to have found one man alive and will continue to search for the other as long as is appropriate and the weather conditions allow.
‘The two men were skiing with local guides who are helping our officers to ascertain what happened. No arrests have been made and currently there is nothing to indicate that this was anything other than a tragic accident.’
18
December 1998, La Madière, France
The police interview room is stifling. It’s early in the morning and I’ve been here through the night, stewing, while they find an officer who can speak English to interview me. I’m too stressed to attempt it in French and I need to be 100 per cent clear on what I’m saying.
Officially, it seems I don’t have to stay to be interviewed, but if I say I can’t be bothered to wait around to talk about how two men came to go missing it isn’t going to look good, is it? Eventually, the door opens and a bleary-eyed uniformed man comes in.
I stand up and he offers his hand. I shake it and we both sit down.
‘Thank you for coming in,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry we kept you waiting.’
‘That’s fine. It’s been a long day though and I’m very tired. If you could ask your questions, perhaps we can all get to bed.’
That sounded tetchier than I’d intended. Stay calm. Stick to what we planned, I remind myself.
‘You will have heard the news that one of the men has been found,’ the officer says.
A whoosh of relief shoots through me, very quickly followed by one of panic. Is he alive? Conscious? Is he going to know that we were too slow to alert rescue? Where was he? Did he see us? What did he tell them? Did he say we skied too fast? Is this some kind of trick?
‘No, I didn’t know that!’ I almost shout. ‘Why didn’t someone tell me?’
‘I must apologize,’ the officer says, covering his eyes momentarily and then looking at me again. ‘As you say, it’s been a long night and we have been very busy. The fact that you hadn’t yet been told that he’d been found must have been an oversight.’
Yeah, right. Mind games, more like. ‘So is he …’ A surge of adrenaline pulses through me and for a second I think I’m going to be sick. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s going to tell me he’s dead. I’m sure of it.
‘He is on his way to hospital. The last I heard he had not yet woken up. The medics will be doing all they can, but for now his future is uncertain.’
I nod. Panic continues to course through me. What if he dies? Or if the other one turns up dead? Would that be manslaughter in France? Would I go to prison? Why do I not already know this? Why didn’t I check when I – we – set up the business? It’s not my fault, I remind myself. Not my fault.
‘And the other man?’
He pulls a face. ‘They continue to search, as much as the weather allows, but I fear his chances are now slim, would you not say?’
I shake my head and then nod. I don’t know what to say. My palms are sweating; I wipe them on my trousers.
‘Can you please tell us in your own words what happened from the time you met the two men to the time you called the emergency services?’ the officer asks.