‘Always up for a drinking game!’ Simon practically shouts. ‘Quite the filly you’ve got there, Hugo!’ he adds, raising his glass to him across the table. Hugo glances at me and I grin.
‘How about “I have never”?’ booms Simon.
‘Yes! I’ll start,’ I yelp. ‘I have never … had a threesome.’
Simon roars with laughter. Hugo looks at me in horror. Matt raises his glass and drinks, smirking.
‘Matt!’ Simon bellows. ‘You dirty dog. Now that’s a story I’d like to hear. OK, you go.’
Cass stands up abruptly. ‘Will you all excuse me?’ She pulls the sleeves of her somewhat frumpy cardigan down over her hands and casts a nervous glance towards her boorish husband. ‘I’m going to check on Inigo and then go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Without waiting for a response, she smiles tightly and leaves the table. Simon doesn’t even look at her. ‘Come on, come on …’ he prompts Matt.
Matt clears his throat. ‘I have never … been to Zimbabwe.’
‘Oh please!’ Simon shouts. ‘You don’t need to go all polite and poncey just because we’re clients. Although,’ he drains his glass, ‘I’ll drink to that obviously – and you too Hugo, you girl.’ Hugo obediently empties his glass and winces. He’s never been a big drinker. ‘Do another.’
Matt grins. ‘OK … I have never … had a same-sex sexual encounter.’
Hugo reddens and Simon looks expectant as I slowly drain my glass and slam it down.
Simon slaps his hand on the table. ‘Ha! Brilliant. That’s an image that … anyway, Ria – your go.’
‘I have never …’ the words ‘been in love’ force themselves into my mind but instead I say, ‘been arrested.’
Nobody drinks. I put my hand on the inside of Matt’s thigh. He doesn’t push it away.
A few rounds later, Hugo, who is quite clearly furious with me for not adequately playing the part of the corporate wife, says he’s going to bed and Millie also takes her leave. By now my hand has reached Matt’s crotch and I can feel he’s hard. I wish Simon would go to bed but he’s pouring himself another glass of wine and wants to move on to Fuzzy Duck.
Suddenly tiredness overwhelms me in the way it sometimes does when I’m too drunk. I retrieve my hand, stand up and say: ‘I can’t drink any more. I’m off to bed. Night all.’
Matt looks at me aghast – obviously thought his luck was in. Maybe it is. Maybe another night.
I stumble up the stairs into our room, expecting it to be in darkness, but Hugo is sitting up in bed, jaw clenched, pretending to read. He puts his book down and stares at me.
‘How dare you embarrass me like that,’ he hisses.
I wave my hand at him and lurch into the bathroom. ‘’S fine. Simon loved it. And you’re here to impress Simon, as am I, apparently. If anything, I’ve done you a favour.’ I lean in towards the mirror and beam at myself. ‘He thinks I’m great.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ Hugo says, prissily, now at the bathroom door in his Hugo Boss boxer shorts instead of the horrible old Y-fronts he used to wear. One of the many minor adjustments I’ve persuaded him into since we got married. ‘And the way you were flirting with Matt too – God! What did I do to deserve that?’
I look at him blearily. ‘Nothing, darling,’ I say, I can’t be bothered with being told off by Hugo. But I know the best way to end this, and as I’m so drunk the idea doesn’t seem too unbearable. I wobble over to him and put my hand down his boxers. He makes a pathetic attempt to pull away huffily, but I know he can never resist me. Thankfully, it doesn’t take too long.
5
December 1998, La Madière, France
‘We’re going to have to phone it in,’ Andy says. ‘Make it official.’
I feel sick. ‘Don’t you think it’s too soon? Maybe they made their own way down and are chugging vin chaud in a bar as we speak?’ I suggest.
There’s a pause. ‘D’you think?’
Argh. ‘I don’t know!’ I shout. ‘Either way, we’re in serious trouble.’
I know we’re both thinking the same thing. If we call out search and rescue and it turns out the men are fine, we’ve still lost two clients in bad weather. Word gets round about that kind of thing very quickly and no one will ever book us again. And if the clients aren’t in the bar, if they’re really lost, then …
‘We can’t do nothing, Cameron!’ Andy snaps, clearly thinking the same as me and starting to panic too. ‘We need to think. Do something. What’s the best thing to do? How about we check if they’re back at their chalet?’
‘For fuck’s sake!’ I explode. I take a deep breath. Calm down. Calm down. ‘OK. Here’s the plan,’ I say. ‘You whizz back to the office and call the chalet. I’ll go back up and check the route again. You radio me as soon as you’ve called them, and I’ll radio you if I find them before you’re back. If we still haven’t found them, then we’re going to have to phone it in.’
Andy doesn’t say anything.
‘Agreed?’ I prompt. ‘It’ll take you max twenty minutes to get back. We don’t want to mess everything up for no reason when everything’s probably fine. Yeah?’
Andy nods. ‘Yeah. I’ll go down and we’ll speak in twenty. But everyone can hear us on the radio, so I’ll say “all good” if it’s OK or, um, I don’t know, “nothing here” if not. You do the same.’
I watch Andy disappear off down the slope and get back on the lift, bracing myself against the wind. The thought of ‘if not’ hangs ominously in the air.
6
January 2020, La Madière, France
Ria
There is a gentle knocking at the door and Millie comes in with our morning tea. I keep my eyes tightly shut. My head hurts and my mouth is dry. I don’t want to have to deal with Hugo’s disapproving looks and I don’t want to listen to a lecture about how I need to behave better if he wants to get Simon on board. I simply don’t care. I shouldn’t have come here. Maybe I shouldn’t have even married Hugo.
I hear the door close softly and Hugo prods me in the back. Thankfully this morning it is with his hand. ‘Ria? You awake?’
I mumble something incoherent which I hope makes me sound like I’m still asleep. Hugo sighs, gets out of bed and goes into the shower. I carry on pretending to sleep while he gets dressed and he doesn’t try to wake me. I guess he’s still annoyed about how I behaved last night. Once he’s left the room, I manage to fall back to sleep for real.
What feels like seconds later, Hugo slams open the door and says, far too loudly, ‘Ria! Wake up! Now!’
I open my eyes and look at him grumpily. ‘What? Why can’t you let me sleep? Do I have to go skiing each and every day with bloody Cass? I thought this was supposed to be a holiday, for me at least, not just some giant schmoozefest. Why can’t I stay in bed if I want to?’