please,’ Josh said.
It was long past breakfast-time at Frau Uberl’s when Julia skidded back through the snow to the chalet. The hem of Mattie’s dress was bunched up under her coat, but Julia felt that her evening slippers were painfully conspicuous to the ski-booted crowds. She reached the gate of the chalet and slipped in through the front door and up the stairs. In her room all four beds looked identically slept in, and Frau Uberl’s maid was polishing the floor under Felicity’s. Julia shot her a dazzling smile, grabbed her ski-clothes, and fled to the bathroom to change. Sophia was hovering there, white-faced after her evening of champagne and army officers. They eyed each other, and then Julia held out her hand.
None of them was like Mattie, but Josh was right. They were nice, friendly girls.
‘Thanks,’ Julia said.
Sophia nodded and weakly shook hands. ‘We guessed you wouldn’t be in. We rolled in your bed and told the Frau you’d gone out early to the slopes. She looked so pleased that you were getting keen at last, it was quite touching.’ Sophia peered at her, but she was clearly feeling too ill to be envious. ‘What about you? Are you all right?’
‘Never better.’
Sophia shuddered and gripped the edge of the basin. ‘Wish I could say the same.’
Julia patted her back. ‘What you need is Mattie Banner’s patent hangover cure. I’ll get you a glass.’
Innocent in her ski-clothes, Julia ran downstairs to the girls’ sitting room. A tray of drinks was kept on the sideboard for them to offer to their visitors, and Julia had seen a bottle of vodka lurking behind the sherry. She sloshed tomato juice on top of a generous slug of it and bore the glass into the kitchen. Assuring Frau Uberl that the English often resorted to it when they required a really nourishing snack after violent exercise, she added a beaten egg. Under Felix’s tutelage, Mattie insisted on celery salt for her own concoction. There was nothing of the kind in Frau Uberl’s cupboard so Julia put in a liberal dash of Tabasco sauce and carried the result up to Sophia.
She put the glass into her shaking hand.
‘Here you are. It’s kill or cure, actually.’
Sophia gulped it down. ‘Oh, God.’
In Sophia’s case it was cure. Fifteen minutes later the girls were in a café, facing each other over mugs of hot chocolate.
‘So you stayed the night with Josh?’ Sophia narrowed her eyes against her cigarette smoke, a woman of the world.
Julia nodded. It was snug in the café, and missing Mattie to confide in, she blurted out, ‘It was the first time.’
Sophia stared at her, unable to keep hold of her veneer of knowingness. ‘What was it like?’
Julia remembered asking Mattie, in the same words, on top of the bus from Euston Station. It was all right, Mattie had said. Only that. Because of the dreadful-sounding man she had chosen? Oh, Mattie, Julia thought. And then she looked over the rim of her cup into Sophia’s prominent pale-blue eyes.
‘It was wonderful,’ she said, with perfect honesty.
After that, Julia found that she enjoyed Wengen as much as Josh had promised her she would. With the Inferno safely behind him he was free to ski with her, and under Josh’s instruction Julia blossomed. It was as if something profound had happened to her body. Her knees flexed of their own accord, and her rigid spine melted. Her skis were no longer flat, heavy boards that tangled and crossed and wilfully tripped her up. They grew sharp edges that hissed delightfully through the snow and even, one magical afternoon, carried her all the way down the hated nursery slope in a series of elegant arcs.
‘Hey.’ Josh caught her cheeks between his gloved hands. ‘You can do it.’
Julia beamed back at him. ‘You’re right. I can do it.’
In that successful instant she had caught a glimpse, at last, of what they were all so mad about.
Josh took her on the little train, on upwards from Wengen to Kleine Scheidegg, right under the blue and grey pyramid of the Eiger. With Josh’s broad, blue shoulders reassuringly just ahead of her, she skied all the way down again.
‘You can ski,’ he told her. ‘You may not make a flier, but you can damn well ski.’
Julia was so glowingly proud of herself, and so pretty, that he wanted to undo her ridiculous parka and make love to her there and then on the icy piste that led down into Inner Wengen.
There were no more nights in the Swann Hotel, but there were afternoons as the skiers crossed through the snow under their window, calling to one another, and the white light faded gently to blue and then to grey as soft as the duck feathers that escaped from their covers.
Their evenings were noisy with music and skiing jokes and the giggly company of Belinda and the others.
‘We didn’t like you much, to start with,’ Sophia confided as they downed another glühwein. ‘We thought you were, you know …
‘Non-sku? Like Sandy Mackintosh?’ Julia asked innocently.
Sophia blushed and giggled. ‘But you’re good fun. And you’ve got guts, as well. That’s what counts.’
Julia widened her eyes. ‘Guts? Is that really it?’ But there was no point in teasing Sophia, because she was never aware of it. ‘I thought you were all stupid and snobbish. But you’re okay, really, all of you. And you can ski.’
They raised their glasses and toasted each other.
Julia had been in Switzerland for almost two weeks when she looked out of the window of the Swann Hotel and sighed at the sight of a fresh fall of snow.
‘Grass,’ she said softly. ‘Leaves and bare earth. Flowers. They’re there, underneath it all, aren’t they?’
Josh came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. ‘Restless? It’ll be time to move on, pretty soon.’
Julia had known that the sentence must be pronounced, but she was angry with herself for being the instigator of it.
‘I’m not restless. I’d like to stay here for ever.’
Josh laughed. ‘Well, I’ve got to get back and rake together some dollars to pay for our pleasures. But what would you say to going south just for a few days first?’
She looked at him, knowing that she would follow him anywhere. ‘South of what?’
‘Italy. I’ve never seen much of it.’
‘I’d say yes.’
Josh’s energy was impressive. Once anything was decided, arrangements were made at whirlwind speed. Maps were consulted and tickets were bought, a farewell party was held in the Swann Bar, and they were on their way, all in the space of twenty-four hours. Belinda and Sophia and Felicity came down to Lauterbrunnen to wave them off.
‘Bye—ee! See you next year? Promise? Really and truly?’ They meant Julia as well as Josh. Josh only grinned at them, but Julia murmured, ‘I’ll try.’ A
