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The barman pointed at Luca, ready for his order.
‘Amstelet… what is your drink?’ he asked gesturing towards the bar.
‘Oh no, I’m fine thanks,’ I said, shaking my head.
Luca stopped in surprise. He wasn’t used to the word ‘no’.
‘But you must have a drink?’ he said, waiting for my order. Oh God, I was bound to make some huge cock up if I talked to him for more than five minutes. I’d just stay non-alcoholic and make my excuses after one.
‘Yes, sorry, of course, that would be nice. A lemonade would be great, thanks.’
Luca frowned. Were fizzy drinks uncivilised?
‘With lime?’ I added, trying to please him. His frown deepened as if that made even less sense. ‘And vodka?’ Third time’s a charm. He shook his head in despair.
I could see people looking in our direction as Luca’s name remained at the top of the leader board and skiers and boarders flew down the piste on a mission to beat his score. There was a lot of bravado as people launched themselves onto the kicker. One boarder attempted a forward flip and landed on his face, another jumped and grabbed her board but somehow launched herself backwards. It all looked very dangerous to me, but the crowd continued to ooh and ahh as the numbers ticked on.
‘I saw you land that jump,’ I said, side-eyeing Luca. ‘It was pretty cool.’
‘You liked that, eh?’ he said, smiling. ‘Is very simple stuff, really; a child could do it. In fact, I did do it as a child.’
‘You’ve been skiing a while then?’ I asked.
‘Oui.Before I could walk,’ he said wistfully. ‘The chalet has been in the family for five generations, so we are all skiers.’
‘Do the rest of the family still come out here?’
‘My grandparents have passed on and my parents don’t speak. It’s just Genevieve and I that use the chalet now. But hopefully we’ll have our own families one day and can re-start the tradition.’
‘Well five generations would be very proud of that jump, and you’re still in the lead,’ I said, pointing up at the enormous scoreboard. Luca squinted his eyes and put his arm around me as he saw his name in shiny lights. He smiled modestly.
‘For now,’ he nodded.
‘You never know,’ I said, feeling suddenly lightheaded, ‘no one’s beaten you yet.’ Was it the vodka or the feel of a non-George arm around me? Something was making me wobbly.
‘More drinks,s’il vous plaît,’ Luca said, gesturing to the barman.
‘Isn’t the final later today?’ I asked in alarm. I didn’t want him drunkenly breaking his neck and somehow blaming me.
‘I won’t make the top three,’ he said, draining his beer. ‘Besides, these beers are small. I am French. We do things differently to you English.’
He was right, it was me on the vodkas feeling woozy. He seemed fine.
‘How are you finding Verbier?’ Luca asked.
‘Cold,’ I said, zipping my coat up tight.
He laughed. ‘The skiing wouldn’t be quite so good if it wasn’t. But you are enjoying it? We are looking after you?’
‘At the chalet, you mean?’ I said, smiling as he stared at me. ‘Yes, Liv and Xavier have been very kind. Apart from forcing me to cold plunge every day.’
‘Ah, you have been having ice baths?’
‘Unfortunately, yes.’ I said, shuddering at the thought of it.
‘It is very good for you though,non? And a luxury, I think?’ he smiled. ‘To have a plunge pool and a sauna. Not many London homes have that.’
The word ‘luxury’ felt very much at odds with my own feelings and experience. It was actually the last word I’d use to describe it.Hellishsprang to mind. I couldn’t see Londoners popping themselves in a wheely bin of ice before hitting the tube each morning, whatever TikTok said.
