Chalet Girls. Lorraine Wilson

confront him.

      ‘Don‘t you dare.’ I hiss the words, one hand on my hip, the other pointing towards his chest. Rage still surges through me, spewing molten lava.

      Giving me strength.

      ‘You‘re a frigid bitch and you know what else you are?’ His upper lip curls.

      ‘I really don‘t give a flying fuck what you think of me.’ I barely recognise my own voice. My legs are trembling and I can feel the sweat trickling down my back. ‘But take one step further and I‘ll call the police. I‘m sure you‘ve left bruises on me they’d be very interested in seeing.’

      The red marks on my arms sting. For once I‘m glad I bruise easily.

      That halts him in his tracks but doesn‘t stop the stream of filth coming out of his mouth. I slam his front door on the words, trying to block my ears as I make my way down the stairs as fast as my shaky legs allow.

      Soon I‘m walking through the snow, wondering if tears can freeze on your face. It certainly feels cold enough. I stick to the darker side of the street, wanting to skulk in the shadows. Hoping to disappear into a giant black hole.

      ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid girl,’ I whisper. This wasn‘t part of the plan at all. Am I so desperate for physical affection I‘m prepared to put myself through this?

      God, I don‘t think I even want to know the answer to that.

      I force myself to take a deep breath and focus. So, tonight was crap. But I have to put it behind me. I‘ve coped with far worse than this. Men much crueler than Thomas have tried to crush me and didn‘t succeed. I won‘t let them.

      I always promised myself if something like this ever happened again I‘d fight back, no matter what. My trembling fingers itch to ring Eva but she‘ll tell me to come back home. I can‘t do that, it‘s too awkward to be at Eva‘s and, anyway, I can‘t bear to be in London right now.

      I pause and squeeze my eyes shut so tightly I see stars. I have to get my emotions under control before I get back to Chalet Repos. You‘d think sharing a bunk room with three other girls would mean I felt less alone but it seems to highlight my isolation. I feel more trapped in my head than ever, without someone who gets me and knows how to draw me out.

      They all know each other; I‘m the only newbie. It doesn‘t help that I‘m so used to holding things back I struggle to connect with other people in a way that means anything. I‘m worried they think I‘m aloof and snobbish. I hope they don‘t. Maybe they could become friends in time if I really make an effort.

      I brush tears away from my cold cheeks. I‘m fine. I‘m absolutely, totally fine and my plan is going to work. I‘ll bloody well make it work.

      From: [email protected]

      To: [email protected]

      Subject: Having fun?

      Hi Beth,

      Long time no hear! Let me have all your news, please. Apart from the photos you posted online when you first arrived you’ve given me nothing.

      I really miss you. Mum misses you too and so does Mark. Did I tell you he’s got a new girlfriend? Emma is very bubbly. There’s just this one really annoying thing about her – she has this weird laugh, a bit like an asthmatic seal. But I suppose she’s okay really.

      Have you met any sexy ski instructors yet? Or future husband material?

      I know Mum says what you’re trying to do is anti-feminist, but I get it. If anyone deserves a rich man who wants nothing more than to take care of his wife, it’s you. You so deserve some good luck.

      Give me some decent gossip and I might tell you about the rubbish internet date I went on last Saturday.

      Love, Debbie xxxx

       Chapter 4

      LUCY

      ‘Think you’ll see your crush tonight?’ Tash elbows me as we make our way over to Chalet Amélie for Sophie and Amelia‘s engagement party. Unfortunately there are some parties it‘s impossible to avoid. Not without offending people anyway.

      ‘My crush?’ My cheeks flush, burning with embarrassment. Crap, I am so bad at hiding my feelings. Hopefully the dark will hide my blushes.

      ‘The very tasty Sebastien Laroche, of course, who else?’ Tash teases. ‘Unless you‘ve got something else to confess? Have you got multiple crushes you‘re hiding from me?’

      ‘Huh, as if.’ I snort.

      I’ve got nothing to confess. More’s the pity. I’m starting to wish I had. Not that I dare confide as much in Tash or she’d do her best to set me up with someone utterly unsuitable. I’m just not wired for casual relationships. They seem such a waste of time. I want to hold out for the right man.

      ‘Sebastien definitely likes you.’ Tash persists, watching me, presumably to gauge the effect of her words. ‘I saw the way he looked at you.’

      ‘I don’t think so.’ I stare at the ground, at the fresh, powdery snow we’re crunching underfoot. The flare of hope I feel at her words troubles me.

      ‘Oh, I think you know he likes you. You’re afraid of it, that’s all,’ Tash proclaims triumphantly.

      That’s all?

      ‘Hmm. When did you get so perceptive Tash?’ I grimace.

      ‘Ha, I’m right, aren’t I?’ Tash grins.

      I wish she wasn’t.

      ‘I expect he likes a lot of girls. He looks the type.’ I bite my lip. ‘I doubt he’s ever serious.’

      It’s confusing. On the one hand he’s almost definitely unsuitable, but he’s also my snowboarding idol and a free-riding God. Not to mention he’s bloody gorgeous and I’ve not been able to think about anything else but him since the night of the film festival screening. The skin on my hand still tingles when I think about him holding it. I’ve replayed the way he put my hand over his heart and how it made me feel a thousand times. How mad is that? I find it disturbing that a man can have the power to do that to me.

      The gesture was casual and yet at the same time intensely intimate. What does that mean? Probably that Sebastien treats physical intimacy with a casual disregard. So, he’s not right for me.

      Desire and fear race through me, competing for dominance, neck and neck. I don’t know which is going to win.

      ‘Just because he likes women in general it doesn’t mean he can’t like you in particular.’ Tash slips her arm through mine. She’s wearing a short asymmetrical jersey dress with chunky boots and she hasn’t bothered with her coat for the short walk between the chalets. Her trademark cat-like eye shadow makes her stand out from the crowd. She’s cool. Or whatever the cool word is for cool. I don’t even know that.

      I’m dowdy by comparison in my best dark indigo jeans and silky black top. I just don’t do glamorous. I feel most comfortable in my sports gear. When I’m skiing I’m in my element, it’s the only time I feel like I truly fit in.

      ‘Why would he like me, Tash?’ I blurt out. ‘I mean, I’m nothing special.’

      Tash stops dead on the path and turns to me. ‘Are you kidding? What do you mean you’re nothing special? You’re pretty, you’re a fantastic skier and a loyal friend. Also you don’t bullshit people. That’s pretty rare, you know. He’d be lucky to have you. Plus you’re really into the things he loves.’

      I smile and squeeze her arm. ‘Thanks, Tash.’

      I wish I believed it. Growing up with a hyper-critical mother who saw it as her mission in life to make sure I didn’t get ‘above myself’ hasn’t done much for my self-esteem.