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  Susan reached into her jacket pocket and took out her phone. She swiped it to life and clicked on the green dial button, seeing Jenna’s name flash up as her most recent contact. She tapped the screen and stepped back onto the path. The idea that Marcus may have followed her out of the pub and could potentially hear the call was one embarrassment too many. She looked over her shoulder into the darkness. Of course he hadn’t followed her out. He had a life. Marcus Ramsbottom had a—

  Susan stopped her obsessing as she heard the international dial tone. She knew Jenna wouldn’t answer, but she needed to feel close to her all the same. It rang six times before the answerphone kicked in.

  “Hey, you’re through to Jenna’s phone. Leave me a message, please.”

  Susan wasn’t prepared for the tears that started to well up at the back of her eyes, and she certainly wasn’t prepared for the way her voice started to crack as she spoke.

  “J-Jenna, hey, it’s, it’s me. I, umm, I miss you.” She paused, trying to control her emotions. “Sorry, I’m fine. I’m fine. I just wanted to leave you a message.” Susan bit her bottom lip as she held back the tears. “Actually I’m not fine. I’m alone. I’m walking back to the school and I, umm, I wanted some company. I’ve been to the Black Bear with Marcus.” She paused. “I know what you’re thinking. What am I doing going to the Black Bear with Marcus, and if I’m honest I don’t know either. I was…” She paused. “Umm, I was trying to impress you I think. How stupid does that sound? It’s just, it’s just that I don’t want you worrying about me. I don’t want you worrying that I haven’t got any friends.” Susan sniffed back a tear. “But I don’t think I have.” She pulled the phone away from her ear as she let out a heartfelt sob. “Sorry, this is ridiculous. I’m going to call you back.”

  Susan paused her walk and shook her head, desperately trying to pull herself together. The last thing Jenna needed to hear was her falling apart. She pressed the redial button and waited for the tone. She spoke louder and with more confidence. “Sorry, right, ignore that last message please. I’m fine. I’ve just had a bit of a strange evening. I wanted to do something. I wanted to show you I had a life, so I tried to get someone to come to the pub with me, but no one would.” She laughed to herself. “I know I haven’t really got rich pickings up at the school, but I thought someone might want a quick drink. Hey, I even texted a woman I met recently, trying to act all casual about nipping for a drink, but she didn’t even have my number stored. She didn’t even know who I was.” Susan paused as she felt the tears returning. “I, umm, I guess I wanted to show you that I’m going to be fine. I wanted to show you that I wouldn’t be sitting in my room every evening, obsessing about what you’re getting up to.” Susan gasped at herself. “But look at me. I’m calling you in tears instead. I’m sorry. I’m useless at this. Is there a way I can delete my messages?” Susan pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the screen, pressing the red end button by mistake.

  “Sorry,” she said, having redialled and connected once more. “I ended the call. You’re going to get these messages, aren’t you? You’re going to hear me stuttering away like a lunatic.” Susan took a deep breath. “I love you. I really love you, Jenna. You’ve changed my world. You’ve changed me. I’m a different person when I’m with you. I’m confident. I’m carefree.” She paused. “I have a life. We do things. We have adventures. We’re a team. I don’t worry about anything when I’m with you. I know it sounds completely cheesy but it’s true. You complete me.” Susan laughed to herself. “Now you’re cringing as you listen to this, aren’t you? But it’s true. You’re my missing piece, Jenna. You’re the person who brings out the best in me. The person who makes me make sense, if that makes sense? Oh listen to me, I’m as rubbish with words as you are. I guess I’m just trying to tell you that I love you. I love you so much. And yes I’m worried. I’m worried that it’s day one and I’m acting like this. I want to be the person you want. The person you fell for. But you’ve only ever seen me around you, and around you I’m different. Now it’s just me, and this is me. Friendless. Bumbling. Somewhat dramatic.” Susan laughed. “Listen to me. What a catch! I guess I just tried to play it cool tonight. I tried to be the person I thought you wanted me to be. But I’m not that person, Jenna. I’d rather just wait for you to come back and let you reignite whatever it is that you ignite in me. That fire. That drive. That sense of adventure. I guess I don’t have it when you’re not around. Look at me. I’m back to the Susan I was before.”

  Susan sighed to herself and ended the call, squeezing the phone tightly and throwing her head backwards. “What am I doing?” she shouted to the stars.

  “Anything I can help with?” said the voice in the darkness.

  “Bob? Is that you?” Susan squinted her eyes and looked in the direction of the large round patch of soil.

  “Bloody Daisy Button and her crutch! She managed to poke everything out of place. Everything out of place I say. And my Timmy wasn’t much better. I’ve had to dig the bulbs up and start again.” Bob was using the pitchfork to help him down the small hill. “These youngsters don’t understand the importance of timing. If I don’t get it sorted tonight we might not get the blooming come spring.”

  Susan smiled. “You always get the best blooming come spring.”

  “Yes, because of the timings.” He stepped onto the path and stretched out his back. “Anyway, I’m almost done. Almost done I say.” He lowered his voice. “Saw you walking past with that Professor Ramsbottom earlier. Stayed quiet, didn’t I.”

  “Oh Bob, you could have joined us. We only went for a quick drink at the Black Bear. You must be freezing out here.”

  “Pffft! No chance you’d get me sharing a pint with that plonker.”

  “Bob!”

  “What? He is, and I, err, I noticed him getting into your car earlier too.” Bob bowed his head slightly. “Don’t think I’m talking out of turn, Madam Quinn, but I do hope you’re not starting something up now that lovely young lady of yours has moved on.”

  “No! He’s a friend.”

  Bob looked puzzled. “Really? I thought you’d keep better company.”

  Susan shook her head. “Marcus is fine. He was doing me a favour actually. I wanted someone to come out with me.”

  “Be careful, Madam Quinn. He’s the type of man who calls in favours. Calls in favours I say.”

  Susan rubbed her arms and shivered at the preposterousness of the situation. A midnight warning on the dark school driveway from an old man who smelled strongly of peat. She glanced at her watch. Well, it was 10.55 p.m. and Bob was hardly a stranger, but still. “I need to head back. I’m cold. Are you coming?”

  Bob shook his head. “No, I’ve got another twenty minutes at least.”

  “You’re the hardest working groundsman I know.”

  Bob scratched his grey sideburns. “Know many groundsmen do you?”

  “I don’t know many anybodys, Bob. That’s exactly my problem.”

  ****

  Susan reached out from her duvet and felt for her phone. She drew it back into her warm den and swiped it to life, immediately blinded by the glaring light. She slowly opened one eye and squinted at the screen. The green message box in the top left hand corner was still green. No red circle with a number in it, telling her she had a message. Just a green box with an empty white speech bubble, telling her that no one wanted to talk. She looked at the time: 3.55 a.m. It had taken great restraint to avoid calling Jenna again. Three rambling messages were more than enough for anyone to come home to, and her simple text message of: Please call me before you listen to your voicemails had obviously not worked.

  Susan lay still and weighed up her options. She could, A, do nothing and spend the remainder of her sleep time checking and re-checking her phone. She could, B, text again and hope that Jenna was in the mood to answer. Or she could, C, call. She could call and get the earful that was no doubt heading her way out in the open, sooner rather than later. Susan pressed the green
redial button and waited. Every single beep of the international dial tone felt like forever. She tried to avoid counting them in her head but knew on the sixth one that Jenna wasn’t answering. “Hey,” she said, trying not to sound too groggy, “you always sleep with your phone on loud, so I’m assuming you don’t want to talk to me, and you’re well within your rights to take that course of action. I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m really sorry for the way I’ve been this evening. I bet you think I’ve totally fallen apart over here, and I guess if I’m honest I have.” Susan paused. “You, umm, you did promise me though that you’d text when you got in, but I’m guessing you listened to all of my warbling messages and threw your phone down in disgust.”

  Susan shook her head at herself. “I just don’t know how to make this better. I guess you need some space, don’t you? Space from me and my neediness. I’ve really shown myself up tonight and I’m sorry. I would love to talk but I understand that it has to be when you’re ready. It has to be on your terms. So I’m going to put my phone down and roll over and try and get some sleep. I’ve got a pretty easy day tomorrow, just catching up on a bit of marking, so call me, or text me, or email me, or whatever’s easiest, and only when you’re ready. I’m a total loser, Jenna, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of this. You deserve better, so…” Susan closed her eyes and pressed her head further into her pillow. “I just never thought I’d have someone like you in my life, and now you’re not in my life I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to do. I don’t like feeling like this. I don’t like scraping the barrel for people to socialise with. But I don’t want to be the person I was. You’ve shown me how to live, Jenna, and now that you’re not here I feel like I’m dying.” Susan screwed up her face as she heard herself say it. “Sorry, the dramatics have returned. I’m going. I’m rolling over. I’ll talk to you tomorrow … maybe … hopefully. Bye.”

  Susan placed her phone back on her bedside table and cringed at herself in absolute despair.

  Chapter Nine

  Jenna woke up with a start at the sound of the loud chalet bell. It was the warning signal that gave the instructors half an hour to get up and out. Sunday was always busy on the slopes with new arrivals eager to get out and about for their first full day of skiing. All of the reps in the chalet were required to meet their new groups in the ski garden at 10.00 a.m. sharp to assess their requirements for the week ahead. Jenna actually preferred looking after the school groups, even though the pickups started on a Saturday at the services. Plus there was the whole element of evening entertainment to sort out as well, but she preferred them for one main reason: The hangovers weren’t usually as bad. Staying in the chalet was dangerous. It was far too easy to get talked into going out every night and crawling in every morning. When she was at Sylvie’s, looking after a school, she got to drink, chat, and socialise without a group of raucous reps shoving the latest beer funnel or bottle bong down her neck.

  Jenna stretched out her arms and yawned. At least this small group of execs only needed her from 10.00 a.m. till 4.00 p.m., and from their requirements sheet it had looked like they were all pretty competent skiers, simply wanting a guide for the week. Jenna smiled. She’d be able to get some great skiing in too.

  “Up and out!” came the shout, accompanied by a loud fist banging on the door.

  “Moving,” she shouted back, completely understanding why they needed such draconian measures in the chalets. The average age of a Club Ski instructor was twenty five, and the average relationship status was single, hence the wild nights out and difficult early morning get ups. Jenna threw her legs out of the bed and stood up, knowing the best course of action was an immediate shower. If she wasn’t out in the communal area within fifteen minutes the chalet supervisor would enter her room with his key and black mark her. Three black marks in one week and she’d be reported.

  She stretched again, lifting herself onto her tiptoes and rolling her neck, almost giving herself whiplash as she suddenly swung her head towards the phone that lay silently on her bedside cabinet. “Susan!” she gasped, realising she’d forgotten to text once she’d got in. In fact she’d deliberately decided not to take her phone out with her to avoid that huge temptation to call and whisper sweet nothings all evening, no doubt annoying Susan, as well as the friends she was supposed to be partying with. She’d had it all planned. A quick drink with the reps and a continuation of FaceTime fun and frolics with Susan. It hadn’t, however, quite worked out like that.

  Jenna jumped back onto the bed and grabbed the phone, cursing her own stupidity. She’d fallen into that all too easy Saturday night ski rep habit of going out at 10.00 p.m. and crawling in at 5.00 a.m. Seven hours of drinking and dares. Seven hours of stupidity. She scrunched her face into her hands, not daring to bring the phone to life. Jenna rubbed her temples, trying really hard to remember. Visions of drinking games flashed through her mind, and the image of a drunken dance-off in the kebab shop to some strange Turkish music kept reappearing. She thought harder. Annie and Dave had announced their engagement. That’s why she’d stayed out, wasn’t it? To celebrate the coupling that no one believed would last.

  Jenna shook her head. She’d been good though, hadn’t she? She thought carefully and nodded, vaguely remembering seeing Amber straddling Sid the snowplough driver. Yes, thought Jenna with more certainty, she’d been good. But how had she got home? She couldn’t even remember getting into bed, let alone looking at her phone to check for messages, or sending the ‘I’m safe’ text that Susan would so desperately have wanted. She swiped the screen to life. Four voicemails and seven texts. “Bugger,” she said to herself, quite unsure what to do.

  “Are we moving in there? I heard it was a late one.” Steve, the chalet supervisor was banging once more.

  “I’m moving. Don’t worry. I’m moving.”

  “It’s always harder to get into the swing of it after a week off. You’re one of our best, Jenna. Don’t let me down.”

  “I’m moving, Steve. I’m showering right now.” Jenna placed the phone down on the cabinet and stood back up, swaying slightly as she held her head, wondering how on earth she was going to make it up to Susan. She walked into her tiny bathroom and leaned into the shower cubicle, turning up the heat before taking off her underwear and stepping under the spray. She sighed to herself. She didn’t want to check her messages yet as she wasn’t properly prepared for the guilt they’d no doubt induce. Jenna reached for the three-in-one shower wash and hastily squeezed it into the palm of her hand, rubbing it all over her body, and using more for her hair. Poor Susan, she thought, as the lather started to build. She’d have spent all night worrying about her whereabouts. Probably assuming she was shacked up with Amber, no doubt. And who could blame her? Their first evening apart and she hadn’t managed to do the one thing she’d promised to do. “You idiot!” shouted Jenna, throwing her head backwards under the water.

  Jenna jumped out of the shower and towel dried her hair as frantically as she could, managing to add blasts from the hairdryer as she threw on her salopettes and red Club Ski Jacket.

  “Five minute warning,” came the shout and latest bang.

  Jenna kept the hairdryer on, lying it down on the dresser and angling the nozzle towards her as she bent down to pull on her thick ski socks. She shook her head, hoping her mass of brown locks would continue to dry. There was nothing worse than hitting the slopes with wet hair, as it almost guaranteed the onset of one of those cold, pounding headaches. She grabbed her Moon Boots from under the dresser and thrust her feet inside, lifting the hairdryer back up and blasting away as quickly as she could. She thought through her plan. She’d slap on some moisturising sun cream and grab a coffee from the communal area, which she’d drink en route to the ski garden. Yes, she thought, she’d be fine. In fact there was nothing better than a long ski in the crisp fresh air to sort out a hangover like this. She shook her hair one final time, pleased with the level of dryness, and reached out for her phone. She’d call Susan and offer apology after
apology after apology whilst filling her jacket with the essentials - ski pass, cash, sunblock, gloves, Club Ski pager, sunglasses and hip flask. She shook her head. She’d leave the hip flask at home today.

  Jenna lifted the phone and started the multitasking, ignoring the messages and voicemails and scrolling straight to Susan’s number instead. She stuffed her gloves into her pockets as she clicked on Susan’s name, but watched in horror as the phone momentarily flashed a white empty battery symbol at her before shutting itself down completely. “NO!” gasped Jenna, shaking the screen as if it might miraculously come back to life. She grabbed her final few essentials and threw the phone down onto the bed, racing as quickly as she could from her room.

  “I don’t know how you do it, Jenna,” said Steve. “You drink like a fish in the evening, but look like a swan in the morning.”

  “Steve, my phone’s dead. Can I take a Club Ski one please?”

  “Sure, no problem,” said Steve, quickly avoiding the embarrassment of having another compliment fall on deaf ears. “Do you need a pager too?”

  “No, I’ve got mine, thanks.” Jenna stood still and waited.