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I was about to explain that nothing had really happened between me and Luca when the calm was disrupted by a snippy voice behind us.
‘Why can’t you go back and get it?’ she snarled.
‘Because it’ll take ages and the snow under the lift is up to my waist, so it’s dangerous. You can buy another pole in the village.’
‘But those poles were a present from Daddy; he won’t be happy when I tell him you left it behind. It won’t take long – I can wait for you in the bar?’
‘It wasn’t me that dropped it though, Pippa, was it? If you want it so badly, go and get it yourself.’
That voice sounded painfully familiar. Could it be…? Surely not…? I slowly turned around, knowing the voice but not believing for a second it could possibly be him. But it was. It was George, shaking the snow off his skis and clicking them together with his poles as he bundled them in with the rosy-cheeked brunette’s. I stood very still, in complete shock. How could it be him? What was he doing here and who was she? I wasn’t sure whether to go over and speak to him or get away ASAP. I spent too long frozen in indecision and George looked directly up and into my eyes, as he clicked his padlock into place. I quickly looked down, burying my face in my snood as I turned and walked away.
‘Holly?’ he called out, in disbelief.
I stopped and slowly turned around. Seeing George here in the flesh, in my magical new world was too much to compute.
Pippa stopped and looked from me to George and back again.
‘Pippa, this is…’ George said, not taking his eyes off me.
‘Your ex-fiancée,’ she said, with a glint in her eye. She took great care to emphasise the wordex, holding out her hand to shake mine. ‘I recognise you from George’s Instagram. Nice to meet you.’
I was just about to ask who she was and where the hell she’d come from, when Xavier appeared at my side. He smiled at everyone.
‘Hi,’ he said, shaking hands with George and Pippa, ‘I’m Xavier. Are you friends of Holly’s?’
I half-nodded, hesitating to introduce them. ‘George and I are… were… at university together,’ I said, struggling to articulate what we now were to each other. ‘I’ve not met Pippa before.’ I took in her shiny ponytail and big, blue eyes. She looked fresh out of uni herself, with her clear skin and pouty lips. No wonder he’d stopped looking at my Stories and commenting on my posts.
‘It was a bit more than university, wasn’t it Hols?’ George said, puffing out his chest.
‘George and I work together,’ Pippa said, linking arms with him territorially, ‘sort of. Well, George works for my dad at the council, and I occasionally work there too, as Daddy’s assistant.’ Oh.ThatPippa. He’d always referred to her as Philippa. Philippa Anders. Daughter of our local MP. And he’d always described her as the triple B: brat boss baby.
Xavier looked over at me and I smiled flatly, trying to communicate with my eyes. He clocked that something was wrong and tried to move us along.
‘What are the chances of you all meeting like this on the slopes? Shall we get out of the cold?’ Xavier said charismatically, leading the way. ‘We can walk and talk.’
‘Are you on holiday?’ I asked, confused. It was baffling to me to see George on a piste; he’d never been skiing in his life. He was probably thinking the same thing about me. George nodded and smiled at Pippa.
‘Pip… I mean Pippa fancied a week away, so we came over last minute. We’re staying at a little place called the Verbier Grand Hotel,’ George said, very pleased with himself. ‘Do you know it?’ His supercilious expression quickly changed as I nodded. I knew it and I doubted George was paying for it. Or Pip, for that matter. Pip’s Pop was clearly a generous man.
‘I know it well,’ I said with a nod. ‘The breakfast is to die for. Xavier and I live out here, so we know all the hotels.’Take that, George.
‘You’re living out here together?’ George asked.
‘Yes,’ I said, looking fondly over at Xavier as he leant in to talk to Pippa. He was out of hearing distance, and we did live under the same roof, so it wasn’t a total lie. ‘I told you I was working out in Switzerland?’
George suddenly looked sick. Obviously disappointed my life hadn’t dissolved into nothing the second he’d ditched me.
We got to the door of Le Rouge, and I was desperate to shake him and Pippa off. Xavier was already at the front desk conferring with the Maître d’ and George went over to join him, while I awkwardly waited with Pippa.
‘Ballinger for two at 12.30 p.m.,’ he said as the Maître d’ turned to him.
Xavier looked back at me and I shook my head at him. His eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to understand what I was saying.
‘I don’t have a Ballinger down for today,’ he said, looking through the list. ‘Please join the queue and I’ll seat you as soon as I possibly can.’ The walk-in queue snaked all the way out the door and halfway back to the chair lift.
‘Hang on just a minute, I think you’ll find…’ George said hotly, pulling out his phone and speed-scrolling, ‘I definitely booked us a table for today. I have the confirmation here somewhere.’
‘You’re very welcome to join Holly and me for lunch?’ Xavier said. Oh God, no.
