Chapter three

The road up into the mountains zigzagged steeply back and forth, a narrow strip carved out of the dusty rocks. Hugh drove silently, concentrating on the road, negotiating each bend smoothly. The air-conditioned people-carrier had been waiting for them at the airport; their luggage was all present and correct: so far, everything had gone to plan.

As he neared a particularly tricky bend he paused and lifted his eyes, taking in the endless green-grey mountains stretching before him; the scorched rocks and relentlessly blue sky. Was that a glimpse of the sea in the distance? He wondered. He couldn’t even tell if they were facing in the right direction. Perhaps it was just a mirage. It was known that the mind played tricks on one in the mountains, under the sun. Perspectives were altered, judgment was impaired. A man could act quite out of character up here. Up above the rest of the world, above scrutiny.

His eyes ranged over the rocky peaks again and he found himself reveling in the sheer exhilaration of being up high. There was an elemental desire in man to rise, he thought. To rise and conquer–and then immediately look for the next peak; the next challenge.

When he first met Amanda, they’d also been up in the mountains – but very different mountains from these. He’d been in Val d’lsere with a party of enthusiastic skiers he’d known since university; she’d been staying in the next chalet along with a bunch of old school friends. The two groups had soon realized, with the kind of faux coincidence typical of such ski resorts, that they knew each other. That was to say, on of Hugh’s chums had once been out with on of the girls – and several others recognized each other from London parties.

Hugh and Amanda, on the other hand, had never laid eyes on each other before – and the attraction had been immediate. Both were excellent skiers, both were fit and tanned, both worked in the City. By the third day of the holiday they’d begun skiing off-piste together; soon, to the appreciative jeers of his friends, Hugh was spending every night at the girl’s chalet. Everyone had agreed they made a perfect couple; that they looked so good together. At their wedding, eighteen months later, a guard of honor had been formed outside the church with crossed pairs of skis and the best man’s speech had been peppered with après-ski jokes.

They still went skiing every year. Every February they returned to the magical, sparkling mountains in which they’d met. For a week every year they were like honeymooners again: besotted with each other; with the snowy peaks; with the excitement and adrenalin. They skied fast and furiously, saying like he knew his own. Having skied since a child, she was more accomplished than him – but she had the same measured attitude to risk. They took chances – but no more than they needed to. Neither could see the point of risking life and limb, simply for an extra thrill.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14