Page 57 of Escape to the Swiss Chalet

The waiter reappeared with a half-bottle of rosé, an ice bucket and two glasses. He peeled back the pale-pink foil, popped the cork, and expertly poured, the bubbles fizzing with excitement to have escaped their prison.

‘Cheers!’ I said, holding my glass up and clinking with Luca.

‘Santé,’ he said, ‘to us.’

‘To us, making it back down the mountain alive,’ I laughed, as I took a sip of my Champagne. Which. Was. Delicious. I took another sip to be certain, but it was like no rosé Champagne I’d ever tasted before.

‘What is this?’ I asked, taking a closer look at the pink liquid in my glass and reaching for the bottle.

‘They only serve the very best in this bar,’ Luca said, amused. ‘The standard rosé is the Moët Grand Cru, and the quality goes up from there. Your palate is so impressive.’

WTAF. I really hoped there was no expectation of us splitting the bill – this sort of quality was probably £100 a glass. It was too late to put it back in the bottle now.

‘It all goes on the chalet tab,’ Luca said, reading my worried face. ‘We are here working, remember.’

‘Ah, well that’s very kind.’ I breathed a sigh of relief and turned my sips into mouthfuls, enjoying theexceptionaltaste. A far cry from a few drinks in the local pub with George. The closest I got to a fizzy pink drink with him was a pint of Kopparberg. This was the life I was meant to live. Vintage Champagne paid for by hot, French men. I just needed to up my skiing game, so Luca invited me again.

‘You are quite fascinating, Holly. Somehow both professional and scatty, with a good instinct for wine, but you seem a little lost. The mountains aren’t your territory and you’re too old to be a seasonaire – what brings you out here?’

‘That’s quite the CV summary,’ I laughed. ‘I thought you knew?’

Luca shook his head and lit a cigarette.

‘Wellllll… I was engaged until a few months ago.’ The words still didn’t sound right. ‘And when that didn’t work out, I thought I’d try something completely different. A new chapter, a new challenge. A new me.’

‘An interesting brief,’ Luca said, his eyes still on me.

‘It is. So I’ve started with a new job in a new country.’

‘You have. Which is going very well.’

‘And taken up a new sport,’ I said, breezily, gesturing out at the mountain. ‘What can I say? The transformation is in progress.’

Luca laughed. ‘I saw you wriggling along the piste like a caterpillar, so that makes sense. I look forward to seeing you emerge as a butterfly.’

Eighteen

25th December

‘Merry Christmas,’ I whispered to myself, as I opened my eyes. I lay looking up at the ceiling for a few seconds and made my Christmas wish, in the same way I’d done every year since I could remember.I wish I didn’t feel so alone.I glanced across at my wall of Blu Tacked photos and felt a pang of sadness. This was the first Christmas I’d ever spent away from my family, and I missed them. Mum had sent a box of presents and cards that were waiting for me under the bed and I blew a kiss to the photo of her and Dad, then one to Abi and one to Margot as I took a moment to reflect on what this day should have been. My first Christmas as a married woman. Maybe I’d never have one of those now. Liv’s empty bed was a visual reminder, if I needed one, that I was the only single person in the chalet this Christmas. Rachael and David would be coupled up and here for lunch. Liv was spending the day with Bella, and Xavier would have been in Paris with his wife but was saving his holiday to spend New Year’s Eve with her instead.

Me:Merry Christmas Mum! Miss you all so much xx Give Dad and Basil a kiss from me and I’ll call you later xx

Me:Merry Christmas Abi!! Sending you a Christmas cuddle! Xx

Me:Joyeux NoëlMargot. Bisous xx

I fired out a few pre-emptive WhatsApps in the hope of getting some back. I was in two minds about sending one to George but decided not to. He hadn’t looked at any of my Stories since the Champagne bar with Luca, and if he really cared, he’d message me.

My phone pinged, but it wasn’t from George.

Liv:Happy Christmas Holly!

I replied to Liv and tried to forget about George, opening the curtains to my first White Christmas after a lifetime of hoping for one. The same cosy snow scene I’d been looking at for the past month. A winter wonderland. I cracked open the window and there was absolute silence. The lifts were closed, and the air held that sacred quiet that only happens on Christmas morning. That collective peace on earth for one day only, or a few hours at least, when the world stops.

‘Morning, Holly,’ Xavier called from the doorway, wearing red pyjamas covered in tiny toy soldiers, ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas!’ I replied, giving him a double kiss. It was nice to see his face.

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