At first, I held back from relaying what I’d learned because I didn’t think Ginny would cope. She had not long returned from having such a lovely time with me at my home in Perth earlier this year and was still highly emotional after losing Mike; then when I did drum up the courage to tell her, I found out her company had made her redundant and she was desperately seeking work. When I rang, she was so low.
So, as the months went on, hearing from the girls how she had withdrawn, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I had to be with her. Her self-esteem had sunk so low. In fact, I then feared that if I told her after all that time, I would lose her friendship. She would hate me. The thought was unbearable. Ginny was special. It was surreal to think that I was going to hurt the one person who had virtually carried me throughout my younger days. A knot tied in my stomach every time I thought about it, and when this trip was organised, and I knew I would see her, I made up my mind that it was my opportunity to sit her down, face-to-face.
Startled by that fact, I opened my eyes, catching sight of my T-shirt. The Flowers, such a great acronym; they would be here soon. I checked the time on my phone and like a meerkat jumped up, with wine in hand, taking a few steps over to where I could see, and peered up the road.
Ginny
Emerging before us were cute wood and stone chalets blanketed in snow, scattering the landscape among modern concrete and newer, wooden high-end chalets, with glass gable walls. Despite the hostility of the roaring grey rocks, I was surprised to see a glowing sunny village populated with traffic and people bustling around with bags, cases or skis. The pretty scene began melting my fears and as we slowed and inched closer, I saw a young family, rosy-cheeked and bursting with vigour and laughter, strolling alongside our car.
‘It’s so vibrant,’ I said, feeling the glare of all the surrounding snow hit my eyes. I pulled down my sunglasses. ‘And busy. I can’t believe the number of cars that are here.’
Lou looked over with a reassuring glint in her eye before pulling down a pair of Ted Bakers off her head and setting them on her nose. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’
I smiled back.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll barely see any cars tomorrow,’ Angie said. ‘It’s change-over day so they’ll all be parked up by tonight. You may get some locals drive up in the morning.’
‘It’s not what I imagined,’ Cathy added, opening her window and blasting the neat line of her bobbed hair. ‘I thought we would be in a lonely little hamlet with only chamois for company.’
I raised my arms and stretched out, whacking Lou on the arm. ‘Sorry, Lou! Me too. Isn’t it strange how you build a picture in your mind – but there’s plenty of life here by the look of it.’
‘And wine.’ Lou’s pearly-white teeth beamed at me. ‘I can’t wait. You look considerably more awake now. You OK?’
‘Yes. Thank you, again.’ I smiled. Lou had asked so many times, and so many times I’d nearly caved in. That was why I found it easier to be on my own at home. I didn’t have to answer their questions, deal with the fussing. I didn’t want my thoughts and privacy invaded. I was safe and not forced to talk about Mike because I really didn’t know who Mike was anymore. Maybe I was afraid that one of them would tell me the truth about him. I don’t know that I wanted to hear it. I was safer on my own. I could think and torment myself without being questioned or judged. And no one could judge Mike because his behaviour wasn’t up for discussion.
Although, I feared, this week with friends, my emotions could tumble out so easily. And while my friends would understand, what would be the point? We were on holiday. I would only dampen their enthusiasm and they were so fired up, however anxious they were about skiing for the first time – apart from Angie, of course.
And what difference would it make to them if they did know about Mike? It was my problem – why would I put myself through the humiliation? He was gone, and nothing was going to change what he did. I sighed, feeling in desperate need of that wine.
‘What is that huge building there?’ I asked spotting a monstrous concrete structure with lots of steps.
Angie didn’t even look up. ‘That’s got to be the lift station. That’s where we get the gondola, the lift to the top. And just along here on our left we should see Kim. Ah, is that her?’
Kim
A spectacle of hands waving from a car window immediately gave them away. I hurriedly placed my wine on the table beside the other glasses and the two waiting bottles and rushed to the side of the road, waving like a moron. People sitting at the tables must have thought: stupid old woman. Nothing new. I giggled to myself. Will and my girls think that about me too.
I got to the car as it stopped beside the Belleview, and gigantic bees with white teeth gazed back at me from the open windows; my friends in their designer sunglasses, no doubt prescription, like mine. I chortled to myself. Opening Angie’s door, then Ginny’s behind her, I laughed out loud at our matching Flowers T-shirts.
‘Welcome, Flowers!’ I steadied Ginny as she clambered out, wriggling her newly worked-out body into operation.
‘Aw, great to see you,’ I screamed and hugged her. ‘You look amazing.’
Ginny fell into my arms. ‘Oh my God!’ she said, with a wobble. ‘Whoa, a bit stiff. You too.’ It was good to feel her squeezing me. Her eyes scanned me as she stepped back and added, ‘Wow, you’ve knocked a few years off.’
I smiled, pleased with myself. ‘Thanks. Just hope I’ve done enough.’
‘Sorry we couldn’t get here earlier. Have you been OK on your own?’
‘Ace, but much happier now you’re all here,’ I said as she stacked my arms with her coat and hand luggage. ‘I stayed at La Poste up there. Never eaten so much in my life. The bloke who runs it is Italian and just kept feeding me – every dish in his kitchen I reckon.’
Ginny laughed, took her coat and slipped into it, then threw her tote bag over her head before aligning it on her hip. She appeared relaxed, which undid some tension from the back of my neck. I greeted Cathy and Lou, then Angie, observing they too had worked out and were in good shape. I was happy to see them all again as it had been Mike’s funeral when I’d made my last – very brief – visit and it wasn’t the best time for a proper get-together. Their excitement at seeing me was quickly forgotten however when Cathy shrieked at the panoramic view from the terrace.
‘I’ll just go and park up,’ Angie told me, waving her hand to make sure I’d heard.
I nodded and made my way back to the table. The girls herded behind me and began rejoicing again when they realised our table offered a front-seat spectacle of the valley. Ginny began pouring the red wine into their glasses and handing them around. She topped mine up. ‘Great spot, Kim,’ she said, joining Cathy by the glass veranda.
‘Perfect, this view is to die for and you’re a saint, Kim,’ Lou said, lifting the other bottle. ‘Just what we’ve all been gasping for. Well, in Ginny’s case, dribbling for.’
Ginny turned her head. ‘Err … yes. I must have been dreaming of wine in the car.’ She turned back to Cathy and the view.
I picked up my refilled glass, my heart content they were finally here despite their distraction. I couldn’t blame them. I’d spent the last hour soaking up the exact same beautiful scene. The snow-filled valley was stunning, particularly whilst sipping the sumptuous local wine. I could feel my adrenaline pumping, imagining the week ahead, spending time with them. I took a mouthful of wine as I watched them – that wonderful upbeat cheer and palpable love for one another that I missed so much; it set me wondering what it would take to persuade Will to move back to England. I didn’t want to end up at loggerheads