Home > Liars(4)

Liars(4)
Author: Anita Waller

I have been wearing the hat you crocheted for me and I love the big flower on the side. Molly is so jealous and it’s the one thing I refuse to share. I will keep it forever. Anyway, I need to tell you how we ended up as chalet maids in the most beautiful place on earth. You should see it, Wendy, the Alps are spectacular with little windmills and chapels dotted about. It really is like a Christmas card scene, or Heidi. We loved that film, didn’t we? That day in the Roxy cinema, I never would have believed that in the future I’d be living in Shirley Temple-land.

Do you remember I mentioned Jen and Helen who we shared our caravan with? It turned out that they were more than good friends, if you get my drift. We were almost finished picking mistletoe when Jen and Helen went off together and neither me nor Molly fancied spending Christmas in a cold caravan so it was a choice between going home, or moving on. That’s when we had the crazy idea to get on a coach and head for Switzerland. Molly had heard there were plenty of jobs to be had in the ski resorts as seasonaires (chalet maids) – and Bob’s your uncle, here we are.

It’s really hard work though. The people in the resort are mostly rich and expect their every whim to be taken care of. We get up at dawn to prepare breakfast then once they head for the slopes, we make the beds and clean the chalet. They’ve got a thing about cake and eat sodding tons of it so we have to bake one for tea – every bloody day! After that we get a few hours off and how fab is this – along with free board and lodgings we get a ski pass too. You won’t believe it but I can actually ski – yes me!

I was rubbish at first but I’m getting the hang of it. No broken bones yet, but a sore bum now and then. It’s a long day because we have to go back to the chalet about 4pm and serve them tea and cakey, then at 7pm we make dinner. As you know, I can’t cook for toffee but I’m learning from Molly who used to work in a café, thank God. The Swiss food is really nice though – have you ever had fondue? You should serve it at one of your fancy dinner parties, or rosti or raclette. I know, I’ll send you the recipes and you can say your cultured friend in Switzerland recommended them – that’s bound to impress your posh guests.

By the way, I did take on board your warnings about getting up the tub so before I left France, I went to the doctor and he put me on the pill. It’s so much more convenient and I don’t have to rely on a man (or johnnies) either. I have taken control of my own body and it feels good. Are you on the pill? Or are you trying to make babies? Honestly, Wendy, you should get it. One little tablet in the morning sets you free. I’ve put it to good use while I’ve been here, I can tell you.

The ski instructors are hot and gagging for it (but so am I) and I’m currently having a fling with Luc, nothing serious because frankly there’s no time. It’s more a case of getting extremely merry on glühwein (beer to you Sheffielders) and then a bit of how’s yer father then a few hours’ kip. Not exactly romantic but far more exciting than a fumble under the dingy railway arches.

The season lasts five months and ends in April so we have made a proper plan and will be heading south and hitch-hiking to Spain. I really wanted to spend the summer in France because I’m desperate to see the lavender fields in Provence. I planned to send you some because I know how much you love it. One day I promise I will. Molly thinks it’s more sensible to get bar work in Spain and then, once winter comes, we can head up to the Pyrenees and do the ski season there. There are so many places I want to go – across to Greece, maybe Turkey and Egypt, who knows. For now, I’m happy up to my knees in snow and cake and glühwein.

But that’s enough about me. Will you try to send me another photo of you, and your house because it sounds so posh. I bet your mum and dad are really proud of you. So what do you do all day? Surely you must get a bit bored on your own or are you a lady who lunches? There are some truly glamorous women here who meet up for drinks while their other halves are skiing – that’s how I imagine you now, sipping wine with the wives from the Conservative Club. I see Mike playing bowls on the village green with the old farts. He doesn’t strike me as the athletic type. Only kidding!

I was surprised he asks about me – are you sure it’s not to check that I’m as far away as possible? Maybe he’s mellowing with age, like an old wrinkly has-been hippy. Will you say hello to him from me?

I hope you know I’m only teasing. I want you to be happy, Wendy, I really do and it sounds fab there. But you were always the clever classy one and destined for the typing pool whereas I had a feeling I’d end up on the production line putting ciggies in boxes. I wasn’t far wrong was I? It sounds like your life is perfect and I’m glad for you.

Fancy Beryl calling her baby Tracy – unimaginative at best, I must say. If I had a sprog (which I certainly won’t) I would give it an unusual name, maybe French. They have some lovely names here, and funny ones too. There’s a girl who works in the supermarket and she’s called Fanny! Poor thing.

You will be pleased to know that I have one more photo left on my roll of film and I’m going to get Molly to take a snap of me in front of the mountains, then I’ll get some copies made and send them on to you. I hope they all come out. I’ll post this letter today though, so you don’t get the hump and think I’ve forgotten you. Like that’s ever going to happen!

Molly has woken up so we had better get off to work. You’d love Molly, she’s really good fun but not as much fun as you, so don’t get jealous. You are still my best friend forever.

Please write back quicker than I wrote to you. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the daisy envelope – I hope it’s the same for you when you get mine.

Lots of love,

Your Nell, always.

xxx

 

 

4

 

 

Nell read the letter through twice to make sure she hadn’t missed anything out. It was hard to explain in writing everything that had happened but then again, she couldn’t really afford to ring Wendy regularly and have a proper chat so this would have to do.

Sealing the envelope, Nell sighed as she listened to the sounds of Molly stomping about in the bathroom. Her room-mate had turned out to be a really good friend and Nell knew she wouldn’t have survived so far without Molly’s ingenuity and determination. But no matter how much fun they had, even on the twelve-hour coach journey from Nantes, across France and along the hair-raising roads into Switzerland, and despite the adventures they were planning, Nell missed Wendy more than she expected.

The worst time was after the apple harvest, once winter set in and the stuffy summer caravan turned into a depressing damp icebox. Nell thought she would die from the cold and with the arrival of dark nights, being stuck on a farm with bugger all to do, was utterly dismal. The looming spectre of Christmas forced Nell to face facts – she could either go home and admit defeat or come up with a plan. After much soul-searching the former was out of the question because after all, where would she stay? Her Aunty Sue wouldn’t welcome her with open arms so the only other option would be Wendy, and gatecrashing her best friend’s loved-up Christmas wasn’t a brilliant idea. Not only that, Nell didn’t want to be under the same roof as Mike because despite what Wendy said, there was no love lost between them. As far as Nell was concerned, he was still a creepy letch.

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