What Happens in the Alps... Read Online Free PDF Page B

worst of my life. There were times when I just didn’t know how to go on.’
    â€˜I can imagine. We were devastated when we heard the news. But you’ve got over it and you’re getting on with your life.’
    â€˜I couldn’t just carry on moping. But, Matt? That was sweet of him.’
    â€˜Matt’s a good man. And he likes you a lot.’
    â€˜My sister said the same thing. It’s just a pity he’s such a bastard with women.’
    â€˜He’s getting older, just like the rest of us. He’ll change, I’m sure.’
    Annie shook her head. ‘I very much doubt it.’

Chapter 3
    That night it started snowing again, this time seriously, and it didn’t stop for forty-eight hours. By the time Friday came along, the whole town was underneath a thick layer of the white stuff and strangely quiet, everyday noises muffled by the snow. But, among the inhabitants of Santorso, things were buzzing. Signora Toniolo in the bar told Annie first and then Paolina confirmed it; the ski lifts had started working all around the valley. The skiing season had begun and it was still just the beginning of December.
    By eleven o’clock, Annie had done everything that needed doing at the school and she couldn’t wait to take advantage of her wonderful new ski pass. Leaving Paolina in charge, she pulled on her skiing clothes, strapped her skis to the roof of her little Panda and set off for Montalto.
    The snowploughs had been working hard and, with the aid of her winter tyres, she found it quite easy to drive right up the winding road to Montalto through the pine trees and grassy meadows, now buried under a thick layer of snow. She parked close to the big chairlift, carefully avoiding leaving the car under any of the trees, all of which were laden with snow. She and Steve had made that mistake years ago with their old cinquecento. When they returned, they found it nearly buried in a huge pile of snow that had then frozen. It had taken them almost an hour to hack their way into the car and then reverse out again.
    It was almost lunchtime by now, but it was still bitterly cold. The sun was just beginning to burn off the low cloud, but it would be an hour or two before the temperature rose above freezing. Her visit to the slopes didn’t start too auspiciously. As she stepped out of the car onto the frozen ground, her feet slid out from underneath her and she almost did the splits, ending up on her bottom on the very cold ground. She pulled herself to her feet, her breath forming clouds in front of her in the frozen air, dusted herself off and reflected that it was just as well her sister hadn’t been there to witness that little scene. She made her way gingerly around to the back and sat down on the rear bumper to put on her ski boots. As she did so, she noted that there was no queue for the main lift. Tomorrow, Saturday, once skiers from Turin and Milan had made their way up the motorway, it would be busier, but for the moment she felt as if she had the place to herself.
    Once she had tightened her ski boots and fastened her jacket, she pulled on her hat and released her skis from the rack on the roof of her faithful old car. Then, finally, she was able to put her gloves on and she began to feel life returning to her frozen fingers. Feeling rather grand, she flashed her new ski pass and took the chairlift up to the first station. Below her, the pistes had been cleared, but there were very few people on the slopes. After years of riding in chairlifts, she was no longer scared stiff. Although she knew that in all probability she might be killed if she fell off one of these lifts, she wasn’t anything like as scared as when she was hundreds and hundreds of feet off the ground in a cable car. It was a question of degree. She was just grateful that Montalto didn’t have any cable cars.
    Evidently, she was going to be one of the first skiers of the season. That, too, was