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Luca nodded, giving his reflection an approving eyebrow in the window behind me.
The lift swung into the station and we waited for the sea of people to drain out. The two of us were the last to leave, boinging off towards the exit. Again, as I went to go right, Luca turned left and beeped his wrist through a black steel door.
‘Another short-cut?’ I asked, delighted, as Luca held the door open for me. It led straight onto a travellator that took us through the middle of the mountain. Instead of the bun fight I normally encountered with Xavier and Liv as we wrestled through the crowds, Luca and I swept along a well-lit tunnel, with The Killers blaring out on all sides. Another couple were coming the other way and waved as they passed. The woman looked like a film star and was dripping in gold necklaces with gold and black ski goggles to match. I suddenly felt a bit self-conscious in Liv’s Roxy pants as we approached the end of the travellator and Luca bleeped us through a second door out into the blinding sun.
‘Bonjour, bonjour.’ A small man in a dark-orange jacket and black trousers welcomed us with two glasses of Champagne.
‘Salut,Charlie,’ Luca replied, taking one, ‘this is Holly, who joins us today.’
‘Good morning,’ he said brightly, handing me the second glass which I readily accepted, taking a large gulp. For my nerves.
‘Hi, nice to meet you,’ I said, easily finishing it with a second and third mouthful.
‘Are we ready forTaverne à Champagne?’ Charlie asked, smiling at us both, his black curls making a bid for freedom from under his headband. My knees were knocking at the thought of these two pros anywhere near me on the piste.
‘I should flag that I’m very much a beginner,’ I said, smiling, ‘and I’m not being modest; I’ve literally only skied a few times before.’ Three times. But who’s counting?
Luca and Charlie exchanged looks.
‘Not a problem, Holly; it is a short, easy ski to the bar,’ Charlie said cheerily, slapping Luca on the back. ‘Now come along the two of you. I take your glasses back.’ We handed him our empty flutes which he somehow folded into his jacket. ‘Follow me just along the slope here and yes… Holly, please…?’
Charlie led us over to a brand-new skidoo that looked more like a luxury speedboat than the knackered old go-carts I’d seen taking people up and down the mountain. Smooth, metallic black paint with oversized skis on the front and a caterpillar track at the back. We’d be like royalty travelling in this. Charlie took my hand as I stepped up and over to sit in the back and Luca slotted in next to me.
‘Do you like it?’ he asked.
‘Champagne and short-cuts? What’s not to like? And we haven’t even done any skiing yet – the best bit!’ I was hoping if we faffed about for long enough, we’d only have time to do the bare minimum of skiing and could come safely back in the skidoo.
‘Plenty of ski time when we get there, don’t worry about that,’ Charlie said, jumping on the front like a plasticine Wallace and starting up the engine.
‘You look very chic in your ski gear,’ Luca said, as we kadunked up the mountain, being thrown from side to side.
‘Do I?’ I blushed, knowing full well I had mascara goo in my eyes and frozen snot up my nose. Why was I getting all hot and flustered at Luca giving me the smallest amount of attention? His body pressed against mine as we sat tightly together in the back of the skidoo. This was supposed to be a work visit, so why did I feel like I was on a date that I wasn’t prepared for? Probably because Luca was a prize-wagyu-beef-level hunk. His dark eyes sparkled as he stared at me, adding to the date vibes, but it had been so long since I’d been on one, maybe I was misreading the situation. Were the smouldering looks just a French thing? I wasn’t sure if I should try and smoulder back or laugh it off.
He put his non-George arm around me to steady the impact of Charlie riding the skidoo like a jet-ski and I breathed in his expensive, musky scent. The higher we went, the more bones I anticipated breaking when we eventually reached our destination and had to start making our way back down.
‘Here we are,’ Charlie said, finally shuddering to a stop. Luca and I dismounted.
‘My friends, the plan today is to stay on these few pistes and enjoy ourselves,’ Charlie said, gesturing out at the snowy playground before us. ‘We can go up and down until we get fed up and then…?’ he stopped and looked at me, questioning.
‘The Champagne bar?’
‘Mais oui.Champagne,’ he said, delighted, ‘Luca – we can go off-piste a little later if you want to go higher into the mountain?’
‘Non, Holly and I will be staying here to ski,’ Luca replied. Would we? Oh God, this was going to be the most humiliating day ever. I gave him a quick smile and clicked my skis on. Into the valley of death.
Charlie had driven us to the top of the mountain and the Champagne bar was at the bottom. I slid carefully forward on my skis and peered over the edge. Three ski slopes finished in a bowl of snow at the bottom and were overlooked by the bar. We were on top of the world, with mountain peaks all around: the ultimate playground for the rich.
‘What is this place?’ I asked with wonder, staring at all the glamorous people launching themselves down the piste. Women in big fur hats, leather ski-suits, oversized sunglasses, and dark lipstick. I felt like the work experience girl on a film set.
‘It is only reachable by private skidoo and helicopter,’ Luca said, ‘so it is much quieter than the public pistes. Very good if you are learning.’
I watched the skiers and snowboarders hurtling down the three slopes and couldn’t see anyone who looked like they were ‘learning’. We should all be forced to wear red helmets and L plates until we’ve passed a basic ski test to prove we aren’t a danger. I wondered what kind of learner Luca was expecting me to be.
‘Are you ready?’ Luca asked, nestling his goggles into position.
I nodded. I was not ready. Luca threw himself down the mountain and slalomed his way out of sight. OK. I counted to ten and put myself into the snow plough position, gently taking off and following a huge, snaking loop, like Alice had taught me. The slopes were nice and empty, and it wasn’t too steep, so there was plenty of space to spread out. With the afternoon sun on my face and that lovely feeling of freedom on the mountain, it was almost like I was enjoying myself. Maybe there was something to this skiing lark after all. Charlie shlooped quietly behind me, lurking in case of emergency, as Luca whizzed past for the second time, head down and skis straight, going like a bullet.
‘Follow your arm and lean into the loop like this,’ Charlie said, skiing out ahead of me with his hand in the air, then lowering it and using it to steer. I followed exactly what he was doing and through some wizardry, my baggy loops became a smidge smaller. I was becoming a pro skier by osmosis. I did three very gentle runs on the easy blue and was done. Luca zipped past me five times then quickly graduated onto the black and was up and down it like a sewing machine, getting his Olympic-level practice in. Thank God skiing was such a singular sport. Once you’re on the mountain, you’re kind of on your own. Unless you’ve got Charlie on your tail. Or Xavier. He didn’t leave my side on that first day out together. I stopped at the bottom and signalled to Charlie that I was done, unclicking my skis, and locking them up with my poles next to the bar.
