Five Ladies Go Skiing: A feel-good novel of friendship and love. Karen Aldous

      ‘All the trouble you go to so that you can ski and see your friends and you can’t spare me half an hour of your time.’

      Kim sighed, blinking hard, then peering up at him, she said, ‘Go, shower and I’ll be up in five. God, why don’t men have a menopause and lose their drive? You owe me.’

      Will smiled and gave her a squeeze. ‘Aw, come on, I don’t make that many demands.’

      Kim tightened her lips, staring at his hand. ‘I know, but …’ She paused. ‘Never mind, no you don’t,’ she said softly, when what she really wanted to say was: Be warned. I’m going to be notching up enough credit so that you honour my desires, my yearning to move back to England. But it would have no effect. Will had made his view very clear, so it would only create an argument.

      ‘Besides, you’re not going to see me for nearly two weeks.’ He headed for the hall stairs. ‘I’ll be washed and waiting.’

      Switching off the iron, Kim rubbed her forehead. She would never stop loving her husband, but she found herself immensely irritated with his reluctance to discuss their future. The last time she approached him about it, they rowed and didn’t speak for days, and since then she’d lost the courage to broach the subject, allowing the issue to fester inside her for fear of upsetting him.

      At times her life was an island, floating in a vast and desolate sea. Yes, Will was her dream husband, but he could be stubborn as a mule. Not that she would have noticed it as a young nurse. She was blinded to his faults and blown away when the handsome Dr Will Anderson flirted with her. She’d almost exploded when he had asked her to be his plus-one at the Hospital Christmas Dinner. And, as a partner, he had always been so loving and strong, even through the dark days of their fertility problems. It was that love that kept them strong throughout the long IVF treatments and the longing for a family.

      Naturally, there was tension – lots of it at times – but letters to and from her friends had kept her spirits up so she and Will had got through it. And, eventually, the twins had made them complete. Now that the twins had flown the nest and Will was more and more absorbed in his work, she found herself pining. Her only deep friendship since moving to Oz in her mid-twenties was a previous neighbour, Marnie, who nowadays was blessed enough to spend much of her time with her seven grandchildren.

      Kim climbed the stairs, aware that Will had probably had his shower. She didn’t find intimacy so easy since the menopause had scared off her libido, but Will was very understanding. He did make an effort to get her in the mood first with his caresses. And the acupuncture she’d had helped. If only he comprehended her other needs as readily. Something to distract her from pining. She lifted her chin as she entered the bedroom, seeing Will towelling his lean body after his shower. Again, she would try her best to push her thoughts to the back of her mind.

       Cathy

      As efficient as always, Cathy Golding had completed her list of morning chores as well as the last of her packing and sat in her book-bulging study to switch on her laptop. She checked her watch: 8.29. She picked up a brazil nut from a small dish and nibbled on it, well on her way to consuming one half of her daily dose of protein and selenium. Outside the window, the grey winter sky and depleted front garden motivated her to get writing to reach the end of her story. She opened the document entitled ‘Sally’s New Bike’, the summer story she was submitting to a woman’s magazine. After enduring more than thirty years teaching English Literature and Language to girls at the local secondary school, albeit with much commendation and personal satisfaction, Cathy was finally living her dream.

      She craned her neck to check she had closed the door. There was only Anthony, her husband, in the house, but he managed to disrupt her more in a morning than a class of thirty twelve-year-olds ever had in a whole day. As it was Christmas Eve, she needed to finish the story ready for posting before her ski trip to Switzerland on Boxing Day with her closest friends.

      Reading the last two paragraphs, Cathy then read the notes underneath and began typing. Each day, before closing a document, she had formed the habit of adding a few brief sentences so that she could instantly pick up the thread next time. And, she found it was always good to note her ideas down, even if a better idea came along later – which they often did. She tapped swiftly on her keyboard, only pausing here and there for thought, but no sooner was she in the zone than she heard the familiar drum of Anthony’s slippers on the floorboards outside, then the clack of the handle on the study door. Anthony was never subtle.

      His voice boomed, jolting her from the zone. ‘Would you like tea?’

      Cathy took a deep breath and turned her head. ‘Yes, but please, darling, I shouldn’t have to keep reminding you. Just bring it, and quietly. If I don’t want it, I’ll leave it.’

      ‘Yes, sorry again.’ Anthony clenched his jaw. ‘How’s it going?’

      ‘It was going fine. I want to finish, edit and post by lunchtime. I’m cooking the gammon and sausage rolls this afternoon and your last two meals for freezing so I want to get this off.’

      Anthony rubbed his thighs sheepishly. ‘Right. Anything I can do?’

      ‘All done, I believe.’

      ‘Need any last-minute bits for your trip?’

      ‘No, darling, but thank you for asking.’

      ‘I might meet Terry and the guys in the pub later. What do you think?’

      She looked at him in surprise. ‘It will be good for you to see the boys,’ she said patiently as he padded out the door. ‘And, just tea, love, please.’ She returned to her keyboard gripping her knuckles, wondering why she felt she had to treat her husband like a child these days. He knew she craved peace and quiet to write. In fact, meeting friends for a Christmas drink would do him good. His friends hadn’t yet retired like Anthony had, but it would help him when they did. The last year or so he was like a lost puppy, moping around and interrupting her, trying to please her. Not the wildly energetic man she married at all. Where was her confident Anthony?

      Growing up in an emotionally repressed household, she had basked in all the attention that Anthony used to lavish on her. Unlike her parents, he listened, gave her his undivided attention and allowed her to speak her mind. She didn’t have to eat the meat on her plate and behave like the perfect daughter to avoid embarrassing him like she did her famous father. Anthony was proud of her whoever she was and never let her think otherwise. Anthony adored the fact that she was well read. He was always proud of the fact that she could meet his demanding clients at functions and events and talk to them on any level. The devotion and energy he had for her, and his clients, was a rare gift and had very likely contributed to making his talent agency extremely successful.

      Cathy had been teaching a few months when she met and fell in love with Anthony and it was at a time when her confidence was sagging with her pupils, struggling to get to grips with exerting authority over rebellious teenagers. His support was tremendous. As luck would have it, he was working with a client who was a speech and confidence coach, so it was fortuitous that he was able to relay some tricks. With trial, error and persistence, and a belief in herself, along with her passion for books, she soon delighted in sharing her love of literature and the English language with her pupils. Kids grew to love her lessons and respect grew among her peers and superiors. She threw her soul into her career, her writing ambitions quashed. Even thoughts of having her own family: quashed. But retirement meant she was freed. She could write her stories down.

      Ginny and Lou, her closest friends from childhood, had loved hearing her stories. They used to gather in the little summerhouse her father had built, and their encouragement spurred her on to write more. Many were still stored in the attic. And although she didn’t get around to writing a great deal whilst teaching, she had continued to read like a girl obsessed whilst remaining close to her friends.

      She still giggled to herself when she thought about skiing. She wasn’t sporty or outdoorsy at all like Ginny, Lou, Angie and Kim, but was strangely looking