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We part ways at the lift landing. Amy, Rachel, Teddy and Yvette step into their skis and head down a blue slope. “See you for après-ski, boys… and girrrrrl!” Rachel part-shouts, part-squeals as she picks up speed and glides away from us, less gracefully than she probably intended.
The rest of us step into our boards and skis and sit onto two passing lifts. Matty and Spencer take the first. Tim, Dayna and I ride a second. We climb, slow and smooth, into the silence of the mountains, a place where reality is expunged by natural beauty. Sun beams down on the peaks, and the occasional thin cloud kisses the rock. I lean my head back and close my eyes. Bright circles pierce my lids even through my shades.
“Stunning, isn’t it?” The words sound odd in Tim’s gruff voice, but they’re right. I’ve missed being here, the peace it brings.
“It’s so beautiful it doesn’t seem real. It’s like a dream. Enchanting. Untouchable.”
I roll my head to the side to find the face behind those words, to see what’s really beautiful and untouchable.
She faces me, looking deep into my soul. I wonder if she can see change, if she knows how much I regret running from her love. If I could turn back time, I’d do it all differently. I wouldn’t listen to my father and his ridiculous family pride, his militant rules. I’d believe in love, in being in love and how it feels to be loved by someone else.
I open my mouth to tell her I’m sorry, but the lift chugs as the cable nears the end of the run.
“Bar up!” a steward shouts from the ground.
We raise the safety bar and jump down, Tim then me. Tim heads straight down the steepest part of the highest black run. I halt to make sure Dayna is out of the lift, and her lips curl mockingly as she flies right by me. “If you can’t take the heat, Layton!”
Damn that woman. I push off on my poles and don’t carve until I’m past her. Tim continues straight down the slope, but I hang a right and hit my favourite off-piste run. It’s difficult, but it’s worth every second for the view looking up the sides of the valley, the speed and the feel of wind burning my face as I fly, unrestrained by time, people and concrete jungle. I check back on Dayna more than once. Each time she’s grinning from ear to ear, hot on my heels, holding her own with ease. She’s still going strong as we merge with the black run, so I don’t stop. We hit the red run, then the blue, and I’m laughing with absolute delight when I dig my skis into the snow and pull a hard halt at the bottom. I watch Dayna come the last fifty metres and for a split, sadistic second, I imagine this is how it could have been. Us. Here. Together.
She comes to a stop so close to me that we both rock back, and I reach out to stop her from falling. I wait for the brutal admonishment.
“Thanks,” she says through a sniff, rebalancing herself but completely throwing out my equilibrium.
“Enjoy that?” I ask.
“Who wouldn’t? Tim, over here!”
Tim pushes towards us. “The snow is top notch.”
“Amazing. Same run or do you want to mix it up?” Dayna asks him, still bringing her breathing back in check and adjusting her sunglasses. “You coming?” she shouts to me.
A small, tiny, miniscule step for man-Clark. I’ll take it.
THE FIVE OF us finish on a race, which Spencer wins, more because he’s reckless on his board and has a dislike for his wrists than through skill alone. I hit second, spraying snow in the direction of the lodge bar. Then Matty. Dayna. Tim.
We line our helmets along the middle of a picnic bench and take a pew. The sun is fierce. The bar is packed inside and out, and the crowd is in good spirits. Verbier après-ski is second to none.
“So, Spencer, last time we saw each other you were finishing up uni,” Dayna says to my brother. “What are you up to now?”
“Well, I haven’t been blessed with the dizzy heights of CEO of my own oil company or anything—”
“It’s really more of a curse, trust me.”
“I’ll second that,” I say, taking a pint of lager from the tray Matty has brought back from the bar.
Dayna takes a bottle of Bud and dips it towards me in agreement. This afternoon, maybe she only hates me ninety-nine percent.
“I’m shooting short films and documentaries,” Spencer continues. “Freelance, but I’m starting to get quite a lot of return business.”
“That’s so cool. I can imagine you being good at that. What kind of films and documentaries?”
Spencer takes his mobile from his inside pocket and types in his passcode. “A whole mixed bag, really. Dry stuff, about the NHS and other public bodies. Then some pretty awesome stuff like the drug scene in South America. But actually the big payers are the sports teams and brands. This is an extended ad I shot a few weeks back.” He holds out his phone, and Dayna leans in to watch the clip.
I can’t take my eyes off the pair of them. Their easy manner together. If I allowed myself, despite all the shit going on and the pain I’ve caused Connie, I could be happy.
Tim holds up a hand and hollers at Amy, who’s coming into the bar with the others. I stand to let Yvette take my seat. “Good skiing?” I ask her and Teddy.
“Wet arse. Enough said,” Yvette retorts.
