cup with the mountains raising their heads against the stars.
‘It’s so beautiful,’ Julia said. And then, reaching awkwardly for the words, ‘I’m so happy tonight. It feels strange.’
‘It shouldn’t be so strange,’ Josh told her.
They turned away from the window and faced each other. They kissed, tasting each other out of hunger, suddenly greedy. It seemed a long time, infinitely too long, since the nightclub in London with Mattie and Harry Gilbert.
Josh’s hand touched the bodice of her dress.
‘May I?’ he asked, and she nodded. He couldn’t find how to undo it and she told him, ‘I’m stitched into it.’
Josh groaned and they were laughing all over again as they pulled at the dress. In the end they tore it off her. Julia stood in her stockings and suspenders while Josh looked at her. They had forgotten the cottage in the woods, and everything else except the grey and silver room, and this moment. Josh unhooked her stockings and rolled them down, and kissed the exposed white skin of her thighs. He kissed her belly, slowly tracing downwards with his tongue, and then he turned her around and touched his mouth to her shoulders and the long furrow of her spine.
Julia’s back arched. ‘Josh.’
He picked her up and put her on his bed. She sank down into the feathery Swiss mattress and the feather coverlet billowed luxuriously around her. She lay in her white nest, watching as Josh undid the ribbon of his black tie. He took the studs out of his shirtfront and the starched wings crackled. As he turned, barechested, Julia saw the vicious dark bruises down one side of his body. She jerked upright, her hair falling around her face, and he looked back at her. His face changed at the sight of her and she was suddenly almost frightened.
‘You’re hurt,’ she whispered.
He was beside her, leaning over her, and she felt the heat of him.
‘The snow fell on me,’ he told her. His mouth closed on her breast. Julia’s head dropped back and she shuddered. Josh struggled out of the rest of his clothes.
‘Isn’t it painful?’ Julia asked innocently. He leaned over her now, and she glimpsed the old, mocking Josh.
‘Tomorrow, I won’t be able to move. But tonight, who gives a goddam?’
He lay down beside her and they reached out for each other, smiling. It seemed very simple to Julia. There was only Josh, and Josh was all she wanted. Her arms locked triumphantly around his neck.
‘Are you sure you want to?’ Josh whispered. ‘The first time …’
‘It isn’t the first time. I went to bed with Felix. The day of Jessie’s funeral.’
He lifted his head to look at her. ‘Is that so? That surprises me, a little.’
‘We were both so sad. It was very sad too. It didn’t work very well.’ She thought of Felix, left alone in the flat waiting for his call-up. He seemed close, important. ‘But it made us better friends.’
‘I’m glad,’ Josh said.
She knew that he meant he was glad she was friends with Felix, that he didn’t have to take the responsibility for the first time, that she was here with him now. If there was anything missing, Julia willed herself not to notice it.
‘I think it will be better for you and me,’ Josh murmured.
His hands stroked her, teasing her, and there was no need to say any more. Julia closed her eyes and this time there was no interruption, nothing except the muffled, unheard music of the little string orchestra and the unseen silver light.
Josh was as thorough and as expert at love-making as at everything else. He was generous, too, and he found that his gentleness drew from Julia’s narrow body an intensity that he had never dreamed of.
Julia hardly knew her own body. Betty’s influence had been strong enough to make sure of that. But what Josh did seemed so natural, surprising at first and then essential. She was amazed to discover that he did it without embarrassment, only humour and tenderness, and she responded to him as he guided her. Their bodies wound together, shiny and supple, and the squares of moonlight crept over the floor.
In the Swann Hotel ballroom the violins played the last waltz and the English skiers joined hands for ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Julia and Josh didn’t hear the singing or the cheering.
At last, when he could lead her no further, Julia’s head fell back and she cried out, one long, silent cry. The discovery was made. The enormous simplicity of it, the depth of satisfaction, left her peacefully rocking like a boat on a wide, spangled sea. She turned and looked into Josh’s eyes. Her mouth curved and he touched it with the tips of his fingers.
Beneath their window the dancers were streaming out of the hotel and lights glimmered on the snow. Julia and Josh lay quite still in one another’s arms, almost shy now, faintly awed by what they had created between them.
‘Thank you,’ Josh said gravely.
Julia was so happy that she wanted to laugh. The feathers from the white coverlet tickled her throat and suddenly she was shaking with it. Josh laughed too, rolling her over and over in the mounds of the mattress and kissing her face and her neck and her breasts. They clung together and Julia rested her head on his chest.
‘I didn’t think it would be like that,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t think it would be so … important. I love you, Josh.’ Her eyes shone and her face was suddenly wet with tears. Josh stroked her hair. He was looking at the navy-blue square of the window, and he didn’t see her face.
There was snow outside the window, and he remembered the race. The Inferno medal was still pinned to his ski-jumper. Josh grinned in the darkness. Julia was in his bed, with her long legs wound round him and the fresh apple-scent of her skin caught in the feather folds. He had enjoyed making love to Julia more than anyone else he could remember. Her pleasure, the surprising strength of it, had made his own much keener. Josh felt himself harden again at the thought of it.
He turned and buried his face in her hair.
‘I love you too,’ Josh said.
Later, Julia asked him, ‘No Frau Uberl’s?’
Drowsily Josh said, ‘Nope. No Frau Uberl’s. I guess I’m popular enough tonight for even Tuffy Brockway to turn a blind eye to immorality. So you see, honey, ski-racing does have its uses after all.’
In the morning, Julia woke up first. She lay looking at the duck-egg-blue sky and thinking, this is being happy. Here and now. If I could take hold of this moment, and keep it …
Josh stirred beside her, and groaned. He opened his eyes and saw Julia leaning over him. Her dark hair brushed his face.
‘I told you I wouldn’t be able to move.’
Julia lifted the covers and inspected his bruises.
‘Hmm. Looks nasty. But you don’t seem to be too badly damaged elsewhere.’
‘That’s luck.’
Julia grinned. Then she lifted
