Five Ladies Go Skiing: A feel-good novel of friendship and love

Lou bit her lip remembering her first love. They met at university in Sussex. Instantly smitten with each other, their chemistry had been strong. She smiled while picturing him then, his black curls flopped over the most gorgeous sultry brown eyes. He was two years older, drove a sporty Ford Capri, and treated her with the latest records, her first ever cassette player and album cassettes among other gifts.

They were inseparable at university and, once home, Jimmy had even proposed. But according to her parents, it was too soon. She should wait, they said, persuading her to concentrate on her banking career for a few years and encouraging her to travel, explore life. Knowing her mother had never had the same opportunities as herself, she considered it fair advice. And after much heartbreak, all she could do was forget him. That is, until he found her on Facebook a few years ago.

Lou heard the front door slam and, instantly blasted from her trance, threw the jewellery back into the box. Speedily, she searched the other boxes for the navy and white beads and placed them together with the red in a small drawstring bag before tucking them into the case.

‘Terry, hi. I’m upstairs finishing my packing,’ she shouted, grabbing a polo neck sweater from the bed and arranging it in her case.

She heard the loo flush in the downstairs cloakroom and the thump of Terry’s bare feet stomping on the carpet on the stairs. As she stood back up, the alcohol on his breath and his clothes wafted straight to her nostrils as he walked up beside her.

She met his lips and pecked them. ‘How was the pub?’

‘Mm, downbeat to begin with. Sad, without Mike, but we soon came to the conclusion that Mike wouldn’t want us moping. He was our social secretary – we couldn’t let him down – so we toasted his memory a few times. Poor sod. I do miss him.’

Lou rubbed her husband’s arm. Terry was still very attractive for a man of his age and she cared for him deeply, despite the chemistry between them never matching her and Jimmy’s. ‘I know, darling. Must be hard. How was Robbie? Did Anthony go?’

Terry shrugged, clasping her hand. ‘Both like me – still missing Mike and grateful we’re all still alive. What can you do? I just hope it doesn’t happen to us yet.’

‘I know – poor Ginny. I can’t imagine going through what she has. And I didn’t think Ant would go today if I’m honest. He’s been down. He seems to have missed Mike most.’

‘Nah, I don’t think it’s just Mike he’s missing. I think he’s getting bored. Maybe retirement makes you like that. Bit worrying, isn’t it?’

Lou squeezed Terry’s hand and kissed him briefly on the lips again. ‘Well, if and when we sell the business and retire next year, I hope we don’t get bored. I want to do a variety of things. As well as watching our children prosper and grandchildren grow up, I want to explore new activities, learn new skills, travel and go on adventures with you, and I intend to spend lots of time with my friends, so make sure you do too.’

He hugged her tight. ‘I love you so much, Lou Cavendish, and I hope we have many more years together, enjoying our retirement. At least we know we can work together after all these years, so I’m sure we can get through and enjoy our retirement together. So, don’t you go doing anything stupid like knocking yourself unconscious on the slopes. Let’s just hope nothing happens and we have a ball.’

As predictable and cautious as ever, she thought, pecking him on the lips. ‘Absolutely. I love you too, Terry.’

Chapter 1 (#ulink_a1c55c95-937c-5bf0-8225-2a29c8c70b59)

Ginny

Out of breath, but euphoric, I glanced at Mike sitting on a fluffy white cloud, watching me as I proudly planted the flag from the side of my rucksack into the mountain’s snow-capped pinnacle. ‘You didn’t think I would do it, did you?’ I told him expanding my chest.

‘Ginny, Ginny, you’re dribbling, sweetheart,’ a voice encroached on my senses as a force pushed me upright. It was Lou. My consciousness was returning. We were in the back of the hire car. Lou’s throaty, some might say seductive voice was giggling. ‘You must be dreaming of that man at the airport.’

‘I would be if he spoke to me in that sexy accent,’ Cathy added mimicking a French accent. I instantly imagined her little nostrils widening and thin lips pouting whilst her sharp blonde bob shimmied.

Forcing my eyes open, I saw Angie lean forward and her hand flip from the steering wheel to tap her backside.

‘Me too,’ she said. ‘He can sit on my luggage any day. He was hot!’

Typical of Angie. I grinned, then with a stretch, I roused myself, wiping saliva from the side of my mouth and realising the four of us were actually en-route to our ski trip. Sadly, I wasn’t with Mike at all. Letting my eyelids drop again, I yearned to return to the dream – to the top of that mountain – with Mike; where I wasn’t scared, and he was real. Very real. Those sweet eyes smiling. I wanted to yell to the world – Mike’s alive.

I rubbed my eyes and peered out of the window, marvelling at majestic snowy peaks. As a lover of maps, I figured we must be in the Swiss Rhône valley. I sized up the mountains dwarfing us on both sides.

‘How embarrassing.’ I groaned, trying to imagine what I must have looked like slumped in the chair, dribbling.

Lou was quick to defend me. ‘Don’t worry. You’re in good company. I used to do it all the time when I commuted to London.’ She stretched out her long legs and wriggled her socked feet to retrieve her designer snow boots from under the passenger seat. ‘We’re not far now, sweetheart. You might want to get your boots on too.’

‘Oh, right, yes.’ I sat up, remembering I was on a promise of fun, not just to my lovely friends, but also to my children. Thinking back to yesterday, Christmas Day, I remembered I’d promised myself and my children – Ross and Rachel – that I would embrace this week and use it as a pivot to move forward. They desperately missed their father too, and I was touched by the mature strength they displayed as they voiced their concerns. Mainly about me being on my own in Kent whilst they lived further north, with their families to keep them busy. So, although they would treasure their memories, they agreed they had both weathered the worst, and a memorial would be good, particularly for me. Like me, they felt it was the right time to let Mike go and whilst not forgetting him, I would set my sights forward and immerse myself in something enjoyable.

Not that skiing and fun had ever sat equally on the scales in my brain. Instead of feeling excited like you do going on holiday, I was feeling numb, experiencing that sense you get when you’re not in control. Similar to that day Mike refused further chemo. I couldn’t say or do anything to change his mind and all strength and hope bled out of me. Cancer controlled us. And, like the chemo that prolonged Mike’s life before that, this week-long ski trip, I imagined, would only be a temporary fix. Nothing would bring him back. After this trip, I would return to my empty home, my purposeless job and bleak life without Mike, even if he had betrayed me. And that, I would never know for sure. It was impossible to question him. My only resolve was to break out of this mode of thinking, this bloody endless circle of self-persecution.

My head fell to the side. Beside me, Lou was holding up a compact mirror and cleansing her face with a wipe, whilst I, in my head, was trying to eke out every particle of negativity that was in my brain. I wanted it wiped clean of the torment so that I could apply some new foundation to my life. Thank God I had my friends. Like Ross and Rachel, they were rooting for me to move on. They had my back, tolerated my gloominess, even when I rejected their efforts to take me out when I’d been wallowing. Well, wallow no more, Ginny Watts. I was jolly well going to make sure they knew I loved and appreciated them and show them I was determined to move forward.

I sat up, lengthening my legs, pointing one foot in search of my boots whilst elevating the notes in my voice as I asked Angie, ‘So how far now?’

In a motherly fashion, Lou responded with a smile and ran her thumb along the corner of my eye. ‘Only a few miles, sweetheart, and we’ll be turning off. You were having such a lovely sleep, I didn’t want to wake you, but you were in danger of noosing your neck on your seatbelt. You’ve been nodding since Geneva.’

‘Oh, I’m such a party pooper. I’m so sorry,’ I said, raising my tone another octave to flame enthusiasm. ‘I should text Kim. How long will it take, Angie?’

Kim was our other bestie who had travelled separately from her home in Australia and was already at the resort. To think we thought our start had been an early one from Camfield Bottom in Kent; her journey must have been exhausting. And all for my benefit. My conscience was a supermarket shelf stacked with tins of guilt. My amazing friends had gone to such great efforts, organising this trip for me and leaving their husbands and families over Christmas. I was thrilled when Kim also agreed to come; it had helped me get over the shock of skiing in the Swiss Alps.

Skiing! Something brave and adventurous to set me on my path, they had insisted. We were all hovering around sixty for goodness’ sake. My stomach had wrenched at the idea, but they were thinking ahead. It was designed to distract me from the first anniversary of Mike’s death and I guess they knew it would be a good time for a fresh start.

Angie checked the clock on the dashboard. ‘About twenty minutes now. A few minutes on this road, then we’ll be going up and round the mountain.’

Cathy turned her head from the front passenger seat. ‘Darling, Kim knows we’re on our way. You texted her soon after we landed,’ she said in her school ma’am voice, making me feel like one of her pupils.

‘I know, Cath, but I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear of our progress. She’s on her own there, don’t forget. Besides, we don’t want her forgetting to order our wine,’ I pointed out as I fumbled in my bag for my phone. I grabbed it and tapped in my password.

As usual Cathy’s silky bob fascinated me as her shoulders shook indignantly. ‘Oh, yes of course. Silly me! Absolute necessity. Yes, do text her,’ Cathy said.

I smiled. ‘Thank you, miss. I will,’ I said, starting my message and wondering if Cathy would ever forget she retired from teaching two years ago.

Kim’s avatar was at the top of my phone list. I was so looking forward to seeing her again. After Mike’s funeral, on a whim, I returned with her to Oz and stayed a whole month. It was lovely being with her at that time even though I kept breaking down. I found her beautiful rose garden wonderfully soothing, and Kim was great, so patient. So generous with her time as we spent hours talking about what I would do and how I would manage living alone in the future. Those ideas soon fell apart, however, when I returned home to my redundancy letter, but she had offered some great suggestions, even the possibility of her moving back to Kent to keep me company, which excited me no end. She just has to work on Will, her husband, who she says isn’t ready yet.

I wanted to dance when she rang to say she had organised her flight. She had flown in from Australia and spent two days in Ouchy on Lake Geneva staying with an old nursing friend, Tandy, having arranged for one of her daughters, Mai, currently working in the fashion industry in Milan, to meet her there too.

‘I do hope she had a fab time with Tandy and Mai at Christmas,’ Lou said, as I was trying to concentrate on my text.

Angie peered at us from her rear-view mirror. ‘Yes. Must be difficult leaving Will this time of year. A positive result though – seeing Mai. And, another positive, we’ll have a nurse to hand if anything happens,’ Angie added, stirring up my fear again. But of course, it was true. A nurse to hand was always beneficial.

‘Somewhat comforting,’ Cathy said, ‘but unlikely that she’ll fit a stretcher and a supply of splints and neck braces into her rucksack.’ Cathy rattled a small tub that she had pulled from her bag. ‘Anyone want an almond?’

‘No thank you.’ Although laughing at the image with us, Lou covered her ears. ‘Bloody hell, can we change the subject?’

I finished my text.

Mission Control. Not long now, my darling Aussie flower. Twenty mins. Just enough time for our wine to breathe in that chilly mountain air. Over. xx

I had to side with Lou. Talk of stretchers and neck braces was the last thing I needed. Without realising, I was gripping my hair. I swear it had thinned this last year with all that had happened. Not only losing Mike and tormenting myself but also returning from Oz to find out my company had made my position redundant after twenty-eight years. It was devastating – as much as, or possibly more than, losing Mike had been. At least I’d been psychologically prepared for Mike’s passing. A widow and unemployed in a matter of months. Things had to improve.

I still wasn’t convinced that learning to ski at nearly sixty was the right tonic. God only knows what Mike would have said if he’d known. I think he envied Angie and Rob, skiing with the boys. Several times over the years, particularly when Ross and Rachel were younger, he had asked me to go on a skiing holiday. My reaction had always been ‘over my dead body’. Why would I waste a week in freezing snow when I could go and lie in gloriously warm sunshine? It was ironic that I was off skiing to get over his dead body!

It wasn’t my idea to ski. It would have never hit my radar. It all came about when my friends took me for a spa weekend in the summer. Lou, Cathy, Angie and I went to the stunning Red Fir Manor with striking views of the Kentish Weald countryside. Apparently, they had already discussed a diversionary trip to distract my mind during the difficult period and wished me to have some input on where I go. I on the other hand thought that they should have input as they were so generously paying for and organising the trip. Subsequently, after lots of ridiculous suggestions and laughter, we agreed to disagree and threw caution to the wind; tossing two suggestions each into an empty china cup to decide on our New Year escapist adventure.

My two ideas were more genteel, but adventurous for mid-winter, I thought; for instance, cycling in Provence or hiking in the Lake or Peak District. Lou, who like me loves the sun, suggested surfing in Hawaii or Miami. Cathy suggested rock climbing in Sicily or Majorca. That was bad enough. But we passed the task to the waiter, who pulled Angie’s idea out. I nearly freaked. Skiing. And mountains. I would have preferred her other option, which was more my cup of tea: horseback riding in the Berber villages and fields of the Atlas Mountains. Not up in the freezing mountains, that in my mind were cold and hostile. Their scale alone evoked a light-headedness in me. When I’d glanced out during our flight, the ocean of rock whipping up waves from the valley floor looked like gigantic monsters circling me, like a pack of wild dogs. I was under no illusion of their ability to intimidate.