Snow Days With You, page 5
‘Let’s be cautious, hmm?’ was all he said in reply.
Another gendarme stood on the runner of the helicopter and greeted her gruffly, giving her a firm push into the cargo area. She stumbled into a fold-down seat at the back as the gendarmes stowed her skis and the large piece of cloth she’d seen earlier and hopped aboard. The machine took off again before they’d even closed the door.
‘What is that?’ she asked the gendarme as he took his seat opposite her.
‘This? A parachute,’ he explained. ‘The woman we rescued was speed riding,’ he added when she only stared blankly in response.
‘Speed riding?’ she repeated, feeling obtuse. The word was in English, but it meant nothing to her.
‘It’s a combination of skiing and paragliding.’
Luna’s stomach whooshed towards her ankles. ‘Is that a thing?’ she asked in English, her voice high.
‘A… thing? Que voulez-vous dire?’ he said.
‘Never mind,’ she muttered, gritting her teeth and slipping into her harness as the helicopter roared off over the treetops.
Clutching the seat with her good hand, she swallowed as her stomach leaped, gawping as the helicopter rose and left the ski resort behind. She glimpsed the summit at the top of the resort, isolated and swept with snow. The aircraft banked and the rocky needles of the Mont Blanc massif looked almost close enough to touch. Below the treeline, powdered white, the cluster of roofs nestled safely in the valley, just beginning to glow with evening lights.
Luna’s heart expanded in her throat. The landscape was so beautiful she couldn’t catch her breath, but the pounding of the rotor, the constant whine and the speed at which the helicopter manoeuvred through the air made her nauseous, not to mention her thoughts of crazy people jumping off those mountains with parachutes.
‘Okay?’ she heard faintly over the roar of the engine. She blinked at her gendarme. His partner sat next to him, a younger man with a beard and a polite smile that was much less reassuring. Far from helping, she’d caused them more trouble. Perhaps she shouldn’t have accepted the ‘lift’, but it was also no use arguing with gendarmes, she supposed.
She nodded to assure them that she was okay and peered out of the window as the helicopter tilted again – and there was the moon, rapidly taking shape in the dimming sky. It was just shy of a half-moon now, even more prominent than it had been the first time he’d rescued her.
If this was the trouble she’d caused him during a crescent moon and a half-moon, she didn’t want to imagine what could happen on a full moon, she thought to herself with an amused smile. Perhaps Silvia should give him some protective crystals, although he’d probably think she was foolish for thinking about crystals and signs and fruitless quests for dead people.
Her cheeks felt hot – which couldn’t be right, since her entire body was cold. Perhaps she’d lost the ability to sense temperature after a day out in the elements.
‘The moon is so close up here,’ she said, satisfied that she’d managed to say something halfway normal.
His answering smile was a touch rueful. ‘The moon looks close in the mountains, but it isn’t any bigger than usual,’ he said. ‘It’s an optical illusion.’
‘A what?’ she asked. Although the meaning of ‘illusion d’optique’ in French was clear, she struggled to believe that such an extraordinary sight would have a mundane explanation.
‘It’s your eyes,’ he said, gesturing to her face. ‘Your eyes make you think the moon is big.’ If he hadn’t had such a trustworthy expression, she might have suspected he was pulling her leg. ‘Là,’ he said, holding one hand up against the window and making a circle with his thumb and forefinger. ‘Look. The moon is small again.’
When she closed one eye and peered through his fingers, she was amazed to see he was right. The looming celestial object she’d marvelled at a moment ago was replaced by the familiar little circle of light she glimpsed high in the sky most nights. When he moved his hand away, it looked enormous again. She rubbed her eyes with her gloved hand and looked again.
‘I don’t believe it,’ she muttered in English. ‘I thought you had a special moon in the mountains.’
‘Not a different moon – a different point of view,’ he continued in French. ‘A clear night with a moon is always lucky for alpinists,’ he said, leaning across to peer out of her window. ‘Although not many are up there in December – only the hardiest.’
A different point of view… Perhaps that was the magic that mountaineers tried to grasp.
The helicopter swooped below the tree line surprisingly quickly, the twinkling lights and slanting, snow-covered roofs rising up to meet them as they touched down at the helipad where Luna’s car had conked out a week earlier. She felt decidedly wobbly as the gendarme ushered her out again, gripping her elbow as though he could tell how jelly-like her knees had become. He escorted her to the base and sat her down on a bench outside the door, crouching in front of her and peering critically into her face. He turned her head from side to side and it took Luna a moment too long to realise he was examining her for symptoms of shock and not just studying her with interest, as she was helplessly staring into his broad face.
‘I’m okay,’ she insisted again, a shudder undermining her words.
‘A car is coming from the hospital to collect you – just to make sure. You need to be careful with the wrist,’ he said.
At that moment, a van arrived, marked as patient transport for the Hôpitaux du Pays du Mont Blanc and Luna resigned herself to ending her day in the hospital, hoping she’d never have to admit to Lydia how disastrously her first attempt at skiing had gone. Helping her up, the gendarme led her to the vehicle, where a nurse was waiting.
‘Here is today’s heroine,’ he said to the nurse. ‘Possible wrist sprain – and she’s a little cold and sunburnt,’ he added.
Her gloved hand flew to her cheek. That would explain why her skin felt so hot.
The gendarme squeezed her shoulder. ‘Merci bien. Thank you for your help. You saved that woman some pain by helping us find her quickly. Take care of yourself, d’accord?’
‘Thank you,’ she said with a nod, meeting his gaze once more before he turned back to the base. When he’d taken a few steps away, a sudden thought gripped her.
‘Um, wait!’ she called out before he could go. ‘This is a strange question, but I’m looking for someone called Robert Durand. Do you know anyone by that name?’
She held her breath while his brow slanted in thought. But when he raised his gaze to hers, he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. The name sounds familiar, but it’s a very common one.’
Her shoulders slumped and she released all of the breath she’d been holding in a misty gust. So much for Silvia’s ideas about the right person finding her. ‘Thanks anyway,’ she mumbled.
‘Come with me, please,’ the nurse prompted Luna.
She couldn’t help sneaking another glance over her shoulder as she followed the nurse towards the van. Her rescuer headed for the door of the base, carabiners clacking. Of course he didn’t look back.
‘What is your name?’ the nurse asked in French, distracting Luna from her disheartening thoughts.
‘Luna Rowntree,’ she answered with a sigh.
She didn’t see the gendarme’s steps falter when he overheard her name.
7
‘Hé là, les gars!’ the helicopter winchman, André, called out in greeting as he stepped into the operations office where Yannick and the rest of the day’s crew were finishing up. Yannick was working on the never-ending reports and his colleagues were distracting him as usual. ‘I found this in the hélico.’ He held up a single, black mitten. ‘The Englishwoman?’
Yannick blinked at it in disbelief, thinking of the stripy woollen glove in his car, freshly washed. Not only had she crossed his path twice in the strangest of circumstances, but she also seemed to lose an accessory every time. Would it be shoes, next? A scarf?
‘Give it to Yanni,’ Matthieu said, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘She’s your Cinderella!’
‘Here you are, Prince Charming,’ André said with a chuckle. ‘I thought you liked her.’
‘I didn’t like her,’ Yannick insisted as he accepted the mitten without thought. ‘It’s called “keeping the victim distracted”. She was more shocked than she looked. And I don’t know why you all think I want a girlfriend,’ he finished with a grumble. The word ‘girlfriend’ made his insides clench.
‘Calm down,’ André said soothingly. ‘I’m only teasing. Are you okay?’
Yannick sighed and turned away from the computer, even though he wasn’t finished. The damn paperwork was never finished.
If André was asking, he deserved a straight answer. ‘Her name was Luna,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘Unusual name,’ André commented. ‘And that struck you… why?’
Yannick grimaced and gave André a sidelong glance. The winchman would work out the answer soon enough. André had been there that day. He’d winched the other victim to safety once Yannick had freed him.
‘You’re still thinking about Jim?’ André asked softly. ‘I heard the boss put you into professional development training. Is that… where this is going?’
Shit. He knew the group, the whole team, had his back, but it was difficult to take their sympathy – first for his divorce, and then for the loss of Jim and his struggle to get past it. The incident was nine months ago, now. He’d been through counselling and passed the psychological assessment with flying colours. He didn’t get flashbacks or experience the fear of history repeating itself, but the team couldn’t take any chances.
If he was moved to a desk job… He wasn’t sure how he’d feel in the unit if he wasn’t out there with the guys. The job was the one part of his life that made sense. Bringing people back down the mountain – in any state – was the only thing he’d ever been able to do about the fact that his brother was still up there, lost forever – and now he’d lost Jim too. This woman had appeared and reminded him of that day again – reminded him that he wasn’t any good at letting go. He needed to do something to make up for the way he’d failed Jim.
He dropped his voice so the others wouldn’t hear him. ‘You know Jim’s last words were—’
‘I know,’ André cut him off, which was probably for the best. Yannick didn’t need to relive the moment his old friend had taken his last breath, staring at the sliver of sky visible through the gap in the ice, delirious, and mumbling something about seeing the moon – la lune.
It hadn’t been the first time Yannick had seen someone die – it hadn’t even been the first time he’d cut a dead body out of the ice for transport back to the valley. It was the decisions he’d made that day, that still bothered him.
He’d told the story over and over again during the investigation; his actions had been scrutinised at several levels of command. He’d even received a medal for his conduct. Decisions were taken by the whole team, on the mountain, and every man there had stood behind him. But it didn’t change the fact that he’d been the only one down in that crevasse.
‘This woman, Luna, said she’s looking for a man called Robert Durand and for a moment it felt like too much of a coincidence.’ André didn’t seem to follow. ‘You didn’t know Jim’s surname was Durand? “De Montagne” was just his nickname. I keep wondering if she’s looking for a relative of his.’
‘It’s a common surname,’ André pointed out, which was exactly what Yannick had been telling himself since the woman had asked him. She couldn’t be connected to his old friend, the legendary mountain guide, but it was concerning how quickly his mind had latched on to the possibility.
‘You need to go for a drink?’ André asked him.
He shook his head. ‘I’m going to go for a run – after I finish up the paperwork and put this in lost property.’ He shook the mitten, dropping it next to the keyboard.
‘Where are you headed on Friday?’ André asked.
‘Guy wants to check out Tour Ronde, if we don’t get more snow.’ It was part of the job to go out – and up – to check conditions on the more difficult routes in the massif – a part of the job Yannick loved.
‘Look after the old man,’ the winchman joked.
‘Don’t let the commandant hear you say that,’ Yannick warned with a smile. ‘You can only hope to be in such good shape when you’re nearly sixty.’
‘Who’s nearly sixty?’ came a voice from the next room. Guy’s sense of timing was almost as legendary as his ice-climbing skills. ‘You might feel old, Yanni, but that’s because of Valérie. It’s not your fault.’
Yannick swallowed a groan as he received a slap on the back hard enough to make him double over in the chair. He wasn’t sure if the ‘patron’, the boss, was joking or not. André met his gaze with a silent guffaw. Turning slowly, Yannick arranged a dry smile on his face. ‘Hey, patron,’ he greeted Guy with a handshake. The commandant was a weathered old mountain dweller with the stamina of an ox and the heart to match. They might joke around, but Guy easily inspired the kind of loyalty the unit was famous for.
‘Which of you is in the English class on Thursday?’ Guy asked, pointing a finger from one face to another.
‘Me,’ grumbled Matthieu. ‘Yannick, too.’
‘Good,’ said Guy. ‘I’ll see you at Cordial at 0900,’ he said. ‘No grumbling. The teacher is a guest of the PGHM – and a very kind young woman who’s new in Cham.’
Yannick ignored all the meaningful glances in his direction. Being one of the only first responders who was single really sucked sometimes.
He could see Matthieu stifling a snort. The team hadn’t taken it well when a visiting colonel had commented that some members of the unit seemed reluctant to speak English on the job. They all could, of course, but that colonel had been infuriatingly correct in his assessment that they often relied on guides and witnesses to translate for expediency.
Guy pointed two fingers at his eyes and then at Matthieu, but he laughed while he was doing so.
‘Are we going up to Tour Ronde on Friday?’ Guy asked, turning to Yannick. ‘Top up your red blood cells and see if we can spot some crevasses? The forecast is for sunshine, so there will be people out next week.’
‘Absolutely,’ he responded with a nod. ‘If I ever get through this report.’ He lifted his hands over the keyboard again, his two fingers hovering, ready to go.
‘What’s that?’ Guy squinted over his shoulder at the screen. ‘You airlifted a wrist sprain back to base?’
‘She was a witness,’ he defended himself. ‘The helicopter had come to pick us up anyway and she…’ He paused to chuckle as he imagined what had happened. ‘She tried to reach the victim.’
‘Well, don’t skimp on the details,’ Guy said, giving him another friendly slap.
‘No, sir.’
As the others filed out with mumbled farewells, Yannick embraced the silence of the office with a deep sigh. His gaze snagged on the mitten, which looked brand new.
Luna Rowntree was a beginner with bendy skis, who was apparently here looking for a man called Robert Durand. Was he an ex-boyfriend? Had she been hurt or defrauded or worse? Finishing the report quickly, he headed out, tucking the mitten into the lost property box in the corner and shaking off the lingering sense of responsibility for her.
He cut across the helipad and headed for the car park by the river. Unable to resist, he turned and stared up at the glowing half-moon hanging low in the sky above the snowy crags of the Tête Rousse and the Aiguille de Goûter, as though it was following the normal route of the Mont Blanc summit tour.
He needed a new point of view himself, to marvel at the moon even when everything he’d lost weighed heavily on his shoulders. Up on the mountain, either during an operation or an adventure, he knew what needed to be done and he did it. But in the valley? It wasn’t getting any easier to accept that Jim was gone. His second Christmas as a divorced father had been even more difficult than the first. Stressful situations were often easier than what came next.
It was after the adrenaline ebbed that life got difficult.
8
Luna glanced up at the same moon as Yannick as she got off the bus in the town centre. Her wrist was strapped and a little swollen, but the nurses had assured her it would be better in a few days. And her trip to hospital had proven useful for more than medical treatment.
She’d discovered her mum had worked there for a winter as a nurse in the emergency department. No matter how much Luna tried to tell herself it wasn’t a disturbing revelation, she felt nevertheless disturbed that she hadn’t known.
She’d first tried asking after Robert Durand, but even though the nurses had obligingly fetched ‘Dr Durand’, who happened to be on shift, the doctor had been no relation. It was a frustratingly common name.
But then she’d thought to ask about June. According to the staff records, her mum had been employed for the winter between 1992 and 1993. Luna had been born in November 1993. No… June not mentioning three months spent in Chamonix was one thing, but lying about the identity of Luna’s father was entirely another.
An imposing white hotel with Belle Époque balconies and blue shutters was lit up in pink and pumping out music. The sound of voices reached the street from the terrace – hardy revellers fresh from a day on the slopes. Luna clomped past slowly in her boots, juggling her skis in her good hand. Après ski sounded like a good time from her position on the footpath, but she didn’t understand how people still had the energy for it.
But perhaps celebrating wasn’t such a bad idea. After the ups and downs of the day, Luna was thankful to still be standing, even if it was a little shakily. She’d made herself go up there, so the day had been something of a personal success, even though the feeling was probably just the last drops of adrenaline in her veins and she was determined she’d never go up again.
