Still Thinking of You Page 13

  ‘OK, you guys,’ said Rich, as he turned to Jason and Mia, and gave them a loose grin. ‘It’s pretty simple, really. It’s all a matter of confidence and balance. I’m expecting great things from both of you.’

  ‘Be careful, Rich: Mia’s in a mood. The guy in the hire shop called her goofy. She nearly took a swipe at him,’ blurted Jason.

  ‘Well, how was I supposed to know that he meant I lead with my right foot rather than orthodontically challenged? I’m a rookie, you know.’ Mia threw in the hip expression for novice, in an attempt to cover her mistake. How she loathed being anything less than impressively informed on all subjects. ‘Look, let’s stop gassing and get down to it. The sooner I get the hang of this the better. There’s some major off-piste to shred.’

  ‘Yeah, like, radical,’ sniggered Jason, who always knew when Mia was faking. ‘What happened? Did you swallow a boarder-slang dictionary, Mia?’

  Mia glared at Jason and continued, ‘I understand now. The plastic hoops on my boots face left on the board. If I were regular they’d face the other way, but what difference does it make anyway?’

  ‘You’re right, Mia. It’s all irrelevant. You are probably going to come down on your butt no matter what,’ laughed Jason. Rich laughed, too, but Mia just scowled and vowed that she’d make Jason eat his words.

  All she ate was snow. It was impossible.

  Mia couldn’t stand. She was fittish and firmish, with strongish stomach muscles, but she couldn’t even stand up on her board. The only blessing was that she didn’t get high enough to fall down; she simply slipped and slid, her feet constantly moving away from her despite being attached by a complicated series of muscles, ligaments and bones. Her calves stung with lactic acid build-up. She should have trained more. Jason was at least upright. He was practising something called his ‘heel edges’. God, she felt such a fool. This was hardly going to help her seduction of Scaley. He’d think she was a loser.

  After half an hour of trial and error, Mia mastered standing up and balancing on the heel edge of her board. She grabbed on to Rich as though he were a life raft, and in many ways he was. He patiently encouraged, directed and cajoled in exactly the correct proportions to elicit the best performance he could from Mia. She inched down the mountain – stop-start, stop-start – just as Rich had instructed her to, so that she gained control of the board. As soon as her confidence increased, she waved at Jason, who was a few metres in front of her. He grinned, and shouted something, but she didn’t hear what it was as she fell backwards.

  Shit, that hurt.

  Mia, as a competent skier, had forgotten just how painful falling was. The shock pains screeched up through her bum, her coccyx and back. She felt the agony tingle, far away from the impact, in her earlobes and her toes. As she’d fallen she’d bit her tongue, quite badly it appeared as she could taste blood. Mia squeezed her eyes shut so the tears couldn’t eke out.

  ‘Are you OK?’ yelled Jason, his teasing submerged by genuine concern. Suddenly he was at her side, rubbing her back. She waved him away with a dismissive flick of the hand, forced her very best wide grin, flashed it, and burst out laughing.

  ‘God, am I a klutz?’ she laughed.

  The boys joined in with her laughter, relieved.

  Mia knew that her strongest card, her deepest tie, with Jason was being one of the boys. One of the boys would not cry when they’d fallen on the slopes, however much their back hurt.

  ‘Quite a spectacular fall, wouldn’t you agree? But, then, I’ve never been one for half measures,’ she grinned.

  ‘That’s my girl,’ smiled Jason, and then turned his attention back to practising balancing on his toe edge.

  Mia smiled to herself. Jason’s comment was progress. Like her boarding, it needed lots of work, but it was progress.

  24. Ladies at Lunch

  The girls had agreed to meet at 2 p.m. for a pizza. At the time of agreeing, Mia had thought that she probably wouldn’t bother turning up. She’d imagined that by then she’d be boarding down the slopes, with Action Man and Scaley, and would not want to break off to eat. However she had been clock-watching for an hour and a half, and was very grateful for the excuse to leave the boys to their lesson. Every bone was battered and every muscle was screaming in protest. It was actually quite hard to fall forwards – gravity nearly always dragged rookie boarders on to their bums, but Mia somehow managed both. She even fell from the chairlift, one foot tethered to her board, like a ball and chain, the other flaying wildly. She was sore.

  ‘How did you find the snow this morning?’ asked Tash.

  ‘Good,’ said Kate.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Jayne.

  ‘Hard,’ said Mia.

  This just about wrapped up the ski stories. Unlike the guys, the girls did not feel compelled to relive every second on the slopes, exaggerating every trick, making every near-miss that bit more heroic or scary.

  It had been Jayne’s idea for the girls to meet for lunch; she’d said it was a sort of hen-party lunch. Mia had thought that the idea was ridiculous. Why couldn’t they just meet up for pizza funghi and leave it at that? Jayne was more obsessed by this wedding than Barbie Babe was. Last night she’d turned every drink into a toast to the bride and groom, every conversation somehow found its way back to the subject of the nuptials. This morning Mia had commented that the breakfast was good and Jayne had replied, ‘Can you imagine how fantastic the wedding break-fast will be?’ Mia suspected that Jayne was trying to worm her way into Tash and Rich’s affections because she had burst in on the party. Frankly, it made tedious conversation. Mia did not need reminders of just how loved up the whole planet was, particularly as she was a notable exception.

  They found a cute pizzeria and chose to sit outside on the street, which was covered with a wooden layer of red-cedar shingle tiles which had not been seen for a while as they had become enveloped by the snow. The girls removed gloves and scarves, slackened boots and unzipped jackets. They turned their faces to the sun, which splattered light on to their sunglasses, the polished table and the drinking glasses. Sun-kissed and exhausted, the girls idly watched children being pulled along in sleighs and skiers skiing right up to shop and restaurant doorways. Hungrily they read the menu.

  ‘I think I’ll order some garlic bread and a pizza. I’m always starving after skiing,’ said Kate. ‘I can never bear getting back on to skis again with a full stomach, so I might as well have a glass of wine.’

  ‘Good idea. I’ll have vodka,’ said Mia.

  ‘I thought you were detoxing,’ said Kate.

  Bugger, thought Mia, she had said that yesterday, hadn’t she? And she hadn’t known whether to be pleased or aggrieved that no one questioned her about this move. It was useful that she hadn’t been cross-examined as to exactly which detox diet let you eat what you like (in enormous quantities) but not drink any alcohol, yet it was insulting that the gang clearly thought she needed to detox. Were they saying she was fat?

  ‘One won’t hurt,’ she insisted.

  ‘Oh, go on, then, I’ll have a glass of red,’ added Tash.

  ‘Not for me, even though this is a hen party, I’m determined to get back on the slopes this afternoon,’ smiled Jayne.

  Kate automatically placed her hand on her stomach as though Jayne’s self-control was a direct criticism of her lack of it. Kate’s salapex was feeling a bit tight across the stomach and thighs, even though she only bought it last season. She wanted to believe that it was her bulky underwear, but she knew that was not the case. She thought she might have a snoop around the shops that afternoon and perhaps buy a new, slightly more generous one. She knew she was eating too much at the moment, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. It was impossible to think of salads in the winter. Never mind, well-tailored clothes hid a multitude of sins.

  ‘Isn’t this place darling? Sort of a cross between White Christmas and It’s a Wonderful Life,’ gushed Jayne, who, Kate noted, was failing to show any of the symptoms of being the desperate,
ditched soul she’d convinced Ted she was. Kate sighed. To her, snow more often than not meant lost gloves and runny noses. At least by leaving the children at home she didn’t have to worry about them catching colds or chilblains. Not that she’d know a chilblain if she saw one, it was just something her mum used to worry about on her behalf, and now Kate worried about them on behalf of her own children.

  Kate thought about the conversation she’d had with the children on the mobile that morning. Fleur had sent a picture text, one of them all eating breakfast. Kate had just about been able to make out the box of Sugar Puffs on the table. There was no sign of the homemade muesli she’d left behind, but then she’d had three pastries for her breakfast and that probably wasn’t a good idea either. Kate let her gaze drift towards the kids’ ski school which dominated the centre of the resort. Even acknowledging the chilblain factor, she wished her children were here with her. They’d be no trouble. They would be in ski school all morning, and she would have entertained them all afternoon. To be honest, she’d have much preferred to spend her time with them than on the slopes. She sighed, accepting it wasn’t to be, and tried to avoid staring at the carousel that merrily twirled around next to the ski school.

  Mia followed Kate’s gaze and thought weren’t they just too cute? Those children with their chubby, determined faces and awkward, uncoordinated moves. Adorable. One day she would bring her child to ski school.

  ‘Look at that mother,’ said Mia, pointing to a vexed-looking mum who was yelling at her son for throwing down his sticks in a temper tantrum. ‘What is she teaching him by yelling at him? She’s just making him cry louder. She’s unfit.’

  ‘It’s not always easy to keep calm,’ pointed out Kate.

  Mia was incensed. She wanted to pick up the sticks and beat the bad-tempered mother with them, although she conceded that wouldn’t be the best example to set the small boy either. Mia swore to herself that she’d never be unnecessarily harsh with her child. She’d be unwearied, serene and wise, 24/7. Although not a pushover.

  ‘Doesn’t she know how lucky she is, just to be a mum? Couldn’t she be just a little more empathetic, a little more patient?’

  ‘Probably not,’ said Kate. She was aware that the fantasy of the perfect mother was one only childless women could harbour. ‘Are you feeling broody?’

  ‘I certainly am not. Can’t bear the idea. Horrible noisy things, children. Ruin your figure. It’s not like I have anyone to have a baby with, is it? Never have the chance to go to the loo on my own again. No, thank you,’ snapped Mia.

  The words were out before she even considered telling the truth. Kate thought it was sad that Mia had no idea how much children brought to your life. Mia thought it was sad that she couldn’t tell even her best friend how much she wanted a child brought into her life. But she couldn’t afford to reveal her plan yet. It would ruin everything.

  ‘Imagine little Richards running around,’ said Jayne. ‘They’d be too darling.’

  Jayne smiled at Tash, but Mia noticed that the smile didn’t reach her eyes. What was Jayne playing at? She certainly wasn’t playing it straight. That was for sure.

  ‘Give us a moment,’ laughed Tash. ‘We’re not even married yet.’ Mia was just thinking that she’d escaped lightly and no one was going to talk about the bloody wedding.

  ‘No. You’re not,’ said Jayne, and then to Mia’s surprise and momentary relief she changed the subject. ‘Are you going to book lessons at the school?’ Mia glared her response and tried to weigh up whether Jayne was being rude. Was she saying that Mia needed lessons? She did, of course, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted anyone else saying so. Jayne didn’t wait for a response. ‘I think I might check in for lessons just because Pierre, the instructor, is so ruggedly handsome. I would so love to fall into those arms.’

  ‘I saw him. You’re right, he’s to die for,’ added Kate.

  Mia was torn. She wanted to encourage Jayne in that direction – any direction away from Jase actually. After all, a fling with a ski instructor was almost mandatory for women such as Jayne, a perk of finishing school, but she found herself snapping, ‘I’d hate that. There’s nothing worse than being taught something by a man who is infinitely better than you, other than being taught something by a man who is infinitely better than you and good-looking.’

  The girls giggled, and started to guess the girth of Pierre’s forearms. They hotly debated the subject for a long ten minutes.

  ‘So you’ve skied often?’ Kate asked Tash.

  ‘Boarded,’ Tash corrected, not for the first time. ‘Oh, yes, I got into it when I was about twenty.’

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘All over. Courchevel, Pas de la Casa and Les Arcs in France. Limone in Italy. Narvik in Norway and Sugar Bowl, California.’

  ‘She’d never been to Avoriaz, though. Had you, Barbie Babe?’ interrupted Mia.

  Tash didn’t respond to the interruption. ‘Not like this, of course. Never in a hotel. More often than not I’ve stayed in a huge self-catering apartment block with a big gang of mates, acquaintances and relative strangers. About ten in beds and another half-dozen overload floor-scammers, who paid their way with beer. Lots of smelly bodies, and steamy wet clothes, fights over the shower and stealing food from the fridge. That has been my usual boarding holiday.’

  ‘You paint such an irresistible picture,’ said Mia.

  ‘I’ve always had a lot of fun,’ insisted Tash.

  ‘Did you enjoy Pas de la Casa? I’ve heard it is pure holiday camp, designed for the world’s dole cheats.’

  ‘It is noisy and rowdy. It’s lively. Good fun. You should go one day.’

  Mia glared. People were always implying that she could do with a dose of fun, as though it could be administered in the same fashion as cod liver oil.

  The girls chatted about the hotel, specifically the rooms and the treatments they fancied at the spa. They discussed the pizza toppings and gently argued about the number of calories in a hot chocolate. Tash noticed that Mia seemed fractionally less competitive when the boys weren’t around. She didn’t seem compelled to talk about the latest Pulitzer Prize novel she’d just read or art exhibition that she planned to visit. The conversation was not so liberally scattered with phrases such as ‘sourly forceful’ or ‘thoughtfully compelling’, as though she were a walking art compendium, and Tash was grateful. They drifted into the occasional lull as they watched other groups of friends and families order pizza and drink beer.

  Tash thought what a wonderful moment this was. She loved her limbs feeling tight and exhausted after a workout on the slopes. She felt high on fresh air, and there was no better sensation than the sun shining on closed eyelids. She felt relaxed and happy. This was a good moment. She wallowed in it, then blurted, ‘Don’t you think it’s funny that I am a Richardson, Natasha Richardson, and I’m marrying a Richard. Sort of exchanging one Richard for another? It’s that kind of thing that makes me believe in fate.’

  Kate and Jayne nodded and smiled genially.

  ‘You are not serious, Barbie Babe?’ snapped Mia, who clearly hadn’t grasped the concept of politely-going-along-with-the-bride-because-after-all-she-is-the-bride in the same way as the other guests had. ‘So you are marrying Action Man because his name coincides with your surname?’

  ‘No, she’s marrying Rich because he’s hot in the sack,’ interjected Jayne.

  ‘Barbie Babe, what did you do? Look up the birth registry for, say, 1969 to 1973? In which region?’

  ‘I didn’t say that, exactly.’ Tash suddenly felt like an idiot. The relaxed atmosphere instantly vanished. She wanted to beat herself with a huge stick and wear sackcloth and ashes for the rest of her days as a punishment. Why did she say such stupid things? It wasn’t because of a coincidence to do with names that she believed in fate. It was for a number of reasons to do with how her life had panned out so far, reasons that suddenly had become elusive and ephemeral, and she couldn’t explain to Mia. Mia who was supposed to
be her friend, but seemed distant and discouraging. She couldn’t explain here at this lunch, which was supposed to be a hen-party lunch, but now seemed about as much fun as a condemned man’s final meal.

  ‘Hey, Barbie Babe, did you limit it to the UK, or did you include Europe, just to see how many boys were named Richard in that period? Did you then drop them all an e-mail until you got lucky with our Richard? Inspired.’ Mia was laughing. Kate, who didn’t think Mia was being funny, and Jayne, who did, both joined in to varying degrees. ‘I might do the same search with Philip, as my surname is Philips. I hadn’t thought of it before.’

  Tash knew that she should probably count to ten. She should remember that Mia was one of Rich’s best friends, that she was here as a guest to celebrate her wedding. That’s what she should do. Fuck it. Mia was a bitch, and Tash had had enough.

  ‘Really, how odd, when you seem to have done everything else, including Internet dating, small ads in Time Out and sleeping with every guy you meet, including the groom and best man,’ snapped Tash.

  God, that was satisfying.

  ‘How do you know that?’ Mia demanded.

  ‘Well, obviously, Rich told me,’ replied Tash. She felt a smidgen shamefaced. After all, it was never nice to know that people had been talking about you. ‘Don’t think we were gossiping, we were just… chatting.’ At least she’d managed to keep quiet about Ted, but that was more out of respect for Kate than respect for Mia.

  ‘You’ve slept with Rich?’ asked Jayne.

  ‘Yes,’ muttered Mia.

  ‘And you knew?’ Jayne asked Tash. Tash nodded. ‘And you still let her come here?’

  Kate looked around for the waiter. She hoped that by the time she ordered another bottle of wine the conversation would be forgotten.

  ‘We don’t keep secrets from one another. I fiercely believe in honesty. I don’t much care what Rich has got up to in his past. He’s a good-looking, clever, funny guy. It would have been odd if he hadn’t shagged around a bit. But I do believe that we have to be honest with one another about our past sexual conquests because past sexual conquests say a lot about a person, don’t they?’