‘Thank you, that looks wonderful,’ I say. Millie gives a brief nod and goes back into the kitchen. I start to eat.
‘I don’t remember much,’ I lie. ‘The weather was abysmal that day, the visibility awful. I do recall that it was my idea to go out, though, not his, and I’ve never got over that.’
Matt puts his hand on my arm. It makes me feel uncomfortable, but it would be weird to pull it away. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,’ he says.
I nod, and for a second I’m surprised to feel tears welling. ‘I don’t think it was anyone’s fault. There was an investigation which concluded that no one was at fault, that it was an accident, pure and simple.’ That’s my story and that’s the one I’m sticking to. I take a mouthful of bacon and force it down. ‘Poor Will. It’s only now I’m older I realize quite how young he was when he died.’
‘Yeah. A terrible thing,’ Matt agrees. There is a reflective pause where no one says anything and my chewing sounds extraordinarily loud.
Matt pushes back his chair. ‘Right. Well, I’m going to leave you to finish your breakfast in peace while I go and check a few things with Millie. I’ll come back at ten thirty to take you to your … various appointments. Does that sound OK?’
I nod. ‘Great. And thank you for your kindness and hospitality. You and your colleagues are making a difficult situation as easy as possible.’
‘Not at all,’ says Matt. ‘We’re a small community here, and something like this affects us all. We all want to do what we can to help.’
He gives me another pat on the arm and a sympathetic smile before heading off to the kitchen.
I get back to my breakfast.
Matt comes back on the dot of ten thirty with a man who introduces himself at Didier Delpont, who is apparently head of the tourist office.
‘I am so sorry for your loss, Monsieur Cassiobury,’ he says, his English grammatically perfect but so heavily accented it sounds almost as if he must be doing it deliberately. He shakes my hand in a way that is almost like a clasp, his other hand on the back of mine as he looks directly into my eyes. It feels too intimate and I don’t know what to say. It’s all happened so quickly, this being the bereaved brother thing.
‘Thank you. Your colleagues here at the resort have all been so kind. I am so very grateful for all your help.’
He finally lets go of my hand, thankfully, and gives a little shrug. ‘It is the least we can do. Your brother was taken by the mountains and we wish to pay our respects. When one of us is lost, we all feel it.’
Us. We were never an us; Will, me, and the resort. We only visited once. It occurs to me that this sentiment has become a theme since my arrival, and I briefly wonder if all this hero’s welcome is to try to prevent me apportioning blame, suing, or similar. The world is so much more litigious than it was two decades ago.
But no. I have no intention of suing, opening the whole thing up again, putting myself under unwanted scrutiny. It would seem my late parents accepted the decision of the investigation at the time, that no one was at fault. As for me, I barely paid any attention to it. As soon as I was out of hospital and well enough to travel, that’s what I did, taking as many drugs as I could to forget about it all, enjoying extreme adventures for a while as I didn’t care whether I lived or died.
As far as anyone here is concerned, it was an accident. These people love the mountains and are genuinely sorry for me. Sad that something so awful happened in their resort, the place that some of them think of as home. I need to do my death tour, be gracious, confirm it’s Will they found, and get out of here as quickly as possible.
‘Monsieur? Is that OK for you?’ the resort guy is asking.
‘Sorry. I was miles away. What was it you said?’
‘That is fine. I know it must be a distressing day for you. I said that first we will take you to where your brother was found, then up to the lift where – well, the lift you took that day. I don’t know if you remember but the run, it’s off-piste and interdit, that is to say forbidden, on a day like today, so we would advise not going any further. But if you are very definite that you would prefer to see it and you are a confident skier perhaps we can arrange a guide if the weather is better later—’
‘No,’ I interrupt. ‘Thank you, but that’s fine. I haven’t skied since the accident and I don’t wish to start again now.’ It comes out snappier than I intended. ‘But I appreciate the offer and I understand that you are trying to make this all as easy as possible for me,’ I add.
Didier nods curtly. ‘As you wish. And then later we are going to meet Guillaume, the pisteur who found your brother. We thought maybe you might have some questions for him.’
I nod. ‘OK. Thank you.’
He nods towards a four by four which is parked nearby and hands me a coat. ‘I brought the car – it is not too far, but I think better than walking. Matt told me you didn’t have a proper coat as you have come from a hot weather climate, so I have brought one for you. I hope it does not offend you. You are very welcome to keep it if you would like, but I understand if there are too many sad memories here for you to do that, so there is no obligation.’
I shrug it on – it’s an enormous coat with the resort’s logo emblazoned in red on the back – and feel instantly slightly better. It’s comforting – like wearing a duvet. I will definitely keep it. ‘Thank you. That’s very thoughtful.’
‘If you are ready, we will go?’ He turns and heads off towards the car. Matt and I follow.
The whole thing feels awkward and wrong. We drive up the hill and out of the village. The road gets snowier and turns into a track. We carry on up until we reach an ancient shepherd’s hut, where Didier stops the car and says, ‘We get out here.’ We are at the edge of a piste just above the village and skiers in colourful gear are whizzing by. I can feel my feet getting wet almost as soon as I step out of the car and the snow soaks through my totally unsuitable shoes. It’s still snowing and the wind is fierce. I shove my hands deep into the pockets of the borrowed coat as I don’t have any gloves, but then I realize this probably looks too casual for the occasion, so I pull them out again and ball them into fists to try to keep warm.
Didier points up the slope and says softly: ‘Your brother was found there – at the other side of the piste. There was a small avalanche that night and we think he came down from his previous resting place with the snow. I believe there were photos taken by the police before he was moved; I don’t know if that’s something you would want to see, but if you have any questions about that you can ask later.’
‘No, that’s fine, thank you.’ The three of us stand there in awkward silence, staring at the ground. I clasp my hands in front of me and close my eyes momentarily as if I might be praying, but really I am thinking about how wet my feet are, how cold my hands are, and wondering how long I have to stand here before we can get back into the nice warm car.
I open my eyes and look at Didier. I wonder if he has been having the same thoughts. It is absolutely freezing out here.
‘Do you have any questions?’ he asks, gently. ‘There is no rush, but we can take you to the lift whenever you are ready.’