21
For Pip, a very special rescue dog
From: [email protected]
Subject: World domination
Hi Lucy,
How’s it going in the land of the millionaires? Mum saw something in the Daily Mail about chalet girls taking their tops off for cocktails and shagging in gondolas. She’s now convinced you’re up to no good.
Are you? I do hope so ;-)
Sadly, I suspect you’re being a good girl, which seems like such a waste tbh. If Dad could spare me from the croft I’d be out there like a shot.
Anyway, you owe me one because I’ve been doing my best to convince Mum you’re much more likely to be entering competitions and following in the footsteps of Jenny Jones, that chalet girl-turned-Winter Games medalist you keep going on about. If you could set yourself on the path to Winter Games stardom that would probably take the heat off.
I also showed her photos on the net of all the Royals and celebrities who holiday in Verbier to convince her you’re not living in a den of iniquity.
So, I’ve stopped her getting on a plane to drag you home. All you have to do now is win a Winter Games’ medal and bag a Royal. Easy peasy ;-)
Seriously, though, I do miss you, little sis. I hope you make it back home for a visit once the winter season’s over.
I’ll leave you with a joke:
Q- How many chalet girls does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A- None. Chalet girls screw in hot tubs. Ha ha.
Love from your exceptionally witty brother,
Ben
LUCY
As I read the email, two things occur to me. One – my brother Ben is a dillop-brain. Two – unfortunately he knows me far too well.
I slip my phone back into my jeans pocket. I’ve got more important things on my mind and thinking about Mum always puts a downer on my mood. I don’t want to feel sad this evening.
Tash would appreciate the joke, I’m sure. Out of the four of us chalet girls sharing a dorm room at Chalet Repos this season, she’‘s the only one who has almost certainly had sex with a guest in a hot tub. Rebecca would worry about being caught, Beth is new and has only been here for five minutes and I … well, it’s the ski, not the après ski that drew me to Verbier.
I would love nothing more than to follow in Jenny Jones’ footsteps. Chalet girl to Winter Games medalist is quite a leap, though.
‘We need to get going.’ I’m practically bouncing with impatience, keen to get everyone out of the dorm room so we can get on our way. ‘The screening starts at eight o’clock.’
‘We‘ve got plenty of time.’ Tash stares dreamily into her little compact mirror, perfecting her cat-like eye make-up.
Tash has been transformed in the time I’ve known her; her spiky edginess morphing into a more chilled and dreamy version of herself. Like a cactus transforming into a rose – fewer spikes, but still the odd thorn if you press in the wrong place.
She’s lovestruck. I even heard her whistling while she unloaded the dishwasher this morning. It’s weirding me out but I’ve no doubt her innate snarkiness will be making a come-back all too soon. Particularly now Holly’s put Amelia and Matt in charge of Chalet Repos – a decision I think must’ve been made under the influence of baby-brain. The sleep deprivation of new motherhood has to be blinding Holly to the potential explosive danger of making Amelia Tash’s boss.
At least for the moment there are no audible ticking bombs. Tash came back from her last visit with Nate blissed out and beaming, as though all her cocktails had come at once. Then she went on to describe in lurid detail how it wasn’t just the cocktails, if you know what I mean. I never know what to say when the others talk about sex. I usually stay quiet and hope no one will notice. It wouldn’t usually be much of a problem but they do talk about sex a lot.
I’ve not experienced the spell Tash is under first-hand. I’m curious – okay, maybe the teensiest bit wistful. It might be nice to be that blissed out by a man.
Not that I’d let myself mope around like that over anyone. I’m more of a doer.
I’ve always been practical. I suppose you have to be when you grow up on a Highland croft. To say my parents weren’t exactly big on indulging emotions or talking about feelings would be a huge understatement. Duty to God, self-discipline and hard work were the Holy Trinity in our house. Let’s just say Verbier has been a bit of an eye-opener.
Where I do take after Mum is that I’ve got no patience with faffing. I’ve been ready for ages and am itching to get out of the tiny bunk room and into the fresh Swiss air. The scents of too many different perfumes mingle to fill the air in the bunk room, so it’s cloying and sickly sweet.
‘Hiya.’ Amelia enters the bunk room without
