Revenge of a Chalet Girl:

“It doesn’t matter. We’ve all done it.” Holly replied briskly, ushering the last of the group, including Josh, firmly out of the kitchen. She then grabbed the mitt and retrieved the cake from the floor. “Run your hand under a cold tap. It’s a shame they saw it happen, otherwise we could’ve brushed it off or cut the top off and iced it. The floor is clean after all.”

“Really?” Amy went to the sink and turned on the cold tap, her cheeks hot. The pain helped somehow, it gave her something physical to focus on. Even the numbing cold water felt good. The numbness seemed to spread, creeping through her body and clinging to her mind, freezing her thoughts.

“Yes, you’re not the first person to drop a cake and you won’t be the last. That’s why I’ve got a secret weapon stashed away where no one will find it.” Holly went to a cupboard and pulled out Tupperware containers of dried lentils, retrieving a tin of luxury chocolate biscuits from behind them. “I have to hide the biscuits from Scott or he’d snaffle them. They’ll do to go with the apple cake. Everyone likes a chocolate biscuit.”

Holly then walked over to examine Amy’s burn. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not, um, feeling that great. A bit sick ,” Amy replied, gazing down at the sink. It wasn’t a lie. She felt like she might throw up.

“Go and have a lie down then, that’s an order,” Holly said kindly. “We can manage the welcome bit and it’s not your turn to do dinner tonight is it?”

“Er, thanks. If you’re sure.” Heat crept up Amy’s neck. “I think I could do with a lie down.”

A lie down. A stiff drink. And a fast car to get me out of here to Geneva Airport.

What the hell was she going to do now?

“I’ve missed you,” Josh murmured in her ear, so close she could smell his aftershave and taste his skin. The recognition jolted her body as violently as an electric shock.

She moaned, pressing herself closer, willing him to touch her.

Thankfully she didn’t have long to wait. Without any preamble, Josh kissed her as though they’d never been apart, his hands sliding up beneath her nightdress and squeezing her bottom.

His tongue probed into her mouth and she welcomed it enthusiastically, wanting him deeper and deeper.

She parted her legs, wet for him as she pressed hard up against him, wanting his hands and lips on her breasts, and his tongue between her legs. Wanting him with a ferocity that took her breath away.

Wanting him more than she’d ever wanted anything.

It felt so delicious, and utterly exquisite being with him again. It felt completely right. Like coming home.

Her body remembered his, remembered how well they fitted together, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Hungrily, fervently she explored his firm flesh, her hands running up under the fabric of his t-shirt and snaking down to feel the hard bulge in his jeans.

“Josh,” she gasped, wanting his clothes off, needing him to take her. “Josh, I need you.”

“Amy,” he whispered into her hair. “Amy, I…”

Then, with a sickening lurch she heard someone calling her name and she woke up, disoriented. She was not in Josh’s arms after all but in the dorm room, in her bunk bed. Alone.

“Keep it down will you? Some of us are trying to sleep!” Amelia called out from the bunk below.

Blinking in confusion, Amy tried to adjust to cold reality as her dream faded. But her body throbbed as though he’d really been touching her and for a few moments she wanted to hold onto the sensation, wanted to stay in the dream where everything had magically been okay again.

“Not so fast,” Tash said. In the dim light provided by the moonlight she was just visible in the bunk opposite. She’d turned on her side and was facing Amy. “So, who were you dreaming about?”

“Why? Oh no, was I talking in my sleep?” Amy groaned and shifted on her bunk. “Really?”

“Not exactly talking, I’d call it moaning.” Sophie called out.

“And writhing, you were making the bed frame creak,” Amelia added, clearly disgruntled. Amy wished she could melt away.

“Um, sorry.” She wanted to shrink back under her bedclothes.

“Who’s Josh?” Tash asked.

“Oh God, this is hideously embarrassing.” Amy pulled the duvet up over her head.

“It’s only sex,” said Tash.

“Hmm.” Amy winced beneath the covers. “I’m not really sure…”

Only sex? There was nothing ‘only’ about sex with Josh. It had been fantastic.

It had meant something.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Go on, dish the dirt – Have you met someone? If so it’s about time.” Tash’s voice was matter of fact, as though it were a perfectly normal conversation. Her attitude reassured Amy a little.

She poked her head out of the duvet. “I suppose I may as well tell you, I’ve got as much chance keeping a secret from you as from the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Less chance,” Sophie called out. “Go on, you can tell us. If you don’t, you know Tash will only find out anyway.”

“The Josh who arrived with the group today is, well, my ex…”

“Really?” Tash sounded very alert all of a sudden.

“Things didn’t end well. He was the love of my life. I thought we’d get married and…” Amy’s voice caught and she swallowed down the lump in her throat before continuing. “He dumped me, without any warning. We were getting on really well, there were no warning signs, nothing. It was a horrible shock and I um, didn’t take it very well.”

Big understatement.

She opened her mouth but no words came out. How could she describe how depressed she’d felt when Josh had left for his job in Saudi? Then she’d got the news about Grandad’s heart attack from mum. She’d been so close to him growing up and she’d not even got the chance to say goodbye.

No warnings, just gone.

She’d slid into a horrific black hole the GP had diagnosed as clinical depression, once her mum had frogmarched her to the surgery. It was very common, the matter of fact doctor had briskly told her as she handed over a prescription for anti-depressants.

As though tablets could’ve brought either Josh or Grandad back.

As it was, the tablets seemed to increase the fog in her brain. She cried less but she no longer felt like herself.

She didn’t feel up to talking about the long months of depression, the aborted teacher-training course and the worried parents. Would they even understand, or were they from the ‘pull yourself together’ school of thought?

Anyway, she’d moved on from all that.

Josh didn’t check on me once. He moved abroad and never looked back.

Stirrings of the old anger at his unrelenting silence simmered inside her, threatening to come to the boil. It hadn’t helped that he hadn’t been there to talk about Grandad. Josh had been her best friend as well as her boyfriend. They talked about everything. How did you just turn that off? Did it mean those years had never really meant anything?

Her eyes hurt from holding back the tears. Anger and pain mingling to create a deadly mixture that ate away at her insides.