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‘Not yet,’ I said, feeling slightly embarrassed. He must have completely forgotten. Was it a French thing? It couldn’t be, as Xavier had remembered. Was it a selfish bastard thing? Couldn’t be that either as George had sent a message.
We had a dream day on the slopes, lazing in the deckchairs in short sleeves and sunglasses, while drinking red wine and grazing on our picnic. It got to 4 p.m. and final lifts were calling, so it was time to call it a day.
‘I’m going to stay up here and hang with Bella for an hour or two,’ Liv said, giving me a hug goodbye.
‘And I’m skiing down Red Twelve to meet David,’ Rachael said. ‘He’s very excited about a Vermentino he’s discovered, and he needs me to try it urgently.’
‘A wine emergency – God, you guys have the best life!’ I said, laughing. ‘I want a kindred spirit like David.’
‘They always appear when you least expect it,’ Rachael replied.
‘Get your glad rags on and we’ll head out for dinner later,’ Liv said. ‘Bring Xavier too. Bella is DJing at The Edge and can get us on the guestlist if you fancy it?’
‘Sounds good,’ I replied, giving her a big hug.
The sun had gone down on my twenty-eighth birthday and it was time to get the lift down the mountain. Nobody ever got the lift down. Well, occasionally you might see a model in a ballgown and heels, or a pair of OAPs, or a member of staff on their way home. But not an ordinary, ski-jacket wearing twenty-eight-year-old with no excuses. And I wasn’t even sorry. I wasn’t going to fake a limp, I walked on with my head held high and took a seat as the entire resort skied down the mountain in the sunshine, as they’d paid thousands of pounds to do. I bounced home in an empty lift, through the pine trees towards the twinkling lights and happy buzz of Verbier. I crunched my way back to the chalet and could see the foyer and dining room all lit up. Xavier must have invited some friends over for dinner.
I punched the code into the keypad for the ski room and walked straight through to the kitchen to thank him for the gorgeous birthday picnic. He was such a thoughtful soul – even down to the flask of Irish coffee to finish off the lunch. I’d been dreading spending my first non-George birthday alone, but twenty-eight felt good. The kitchen was full of cooking. Something delicious was bubbling away on the hob and a bright-blue Le Creuset pot sat snug in the centre of the oven. But no Xavier. I made my way upstairs and heard him before I saw him, arguing loudly in French.
‘No, Luca, that was not the deal. I’ve paid your money back with interest and you’ve had three years of my life. Now sign the papers over.’
‘I’m sorry, Xavier, but the restaurant has blossomed under our partnership, and I want to keep a small stake. It’s the least you can do.’
‘There is no stake for sale. I want full control back of my restaurant and that was always our agreement.’
‘Be reasonable, Xavier. We are joint owners now. I currently own 50 per cent but I’d be happy to agree to 10.’
I got a little closer to the dining room and the creaky floorboards gave me away.
‘Hello?’ Luca called out and sharp footsteps sounded before he flung the doors open.
‘Hi guys,’ I said, waving to Xavier in the back, ‘what’s going on?’
Luca was stood smoking a cigarette, while Xavier balanced on a chair, pinning a ‘Happy Birthday’ banner to the wall. The table was set for two, with a dark-red tablecloth, crystal glasses and enough silver cutlery for four courses. A vase of pink peonies bloomed next to a silver candelabra. The dining room had been transformed into an intimate French bistro.
‘Bonjour,Holly,’ Xavier said, ‘Happy Birthday!’
‘Thank you,’ I said looking around.
‘Ah,oui,’ Luca joined in, double kissing me enthusiastically, ‘Bonne Anniversaireand… surprise!’ he added, pointing to the banner.
I took in the whole scene: the candles, the flowers, the polish. I couldn’t believe it. Had Luca gone to all this trouble for me? He started singing a shonky ‘Happy Birthday’ and Xavier eventually joined in. I clutched my hand to my chest in delight and confusion and gave a little laugh.
‘What is this?’ I asked, looking at them both.
‘It is your birthday,non?’ Luca took my hand and pressed it to his lips. I looked over at Xavier, who gave me a funny half-smile.
‘I thought you were in Paris for work this weekend?’
‘Me too,’ Xavier added, staring oddly at Luca.
‘And miss your birthday? Never,’ Luca smiled easily. ‘We have arranged for all your favourite foods and wines, to celebrate your birthday in style.’
‘We have indeed,’ Xavier said, glaring at Luca and storming off to the kitchen. Their argument clearly unresolved.
‘Really?’ I had tears in my eyes. I couldn’t believe it. This was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done. I’d already spotted the Sicilian Fiano chilling in the corner. Luca was wearing jeans and a soft, wool jumper with his lace-up boots. He looked much more Paris than Verbier.
‘I thought you’d forgotten?’ I said, almost speechless.
