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       Chapter 1

       Ginny

      Out of breath, but euphoric, I glanced at Mike sitting on a fluffy white cloud, watching me as I proudly planted the flag from the side of my rucksack into the mountain’s snow-capped pinnacle. ‘You didn’t think I would do it, did you?’ I told him expanding my chest.

      ‘Ginny, Ginny, you’re dribbling, sweetheart,’ a voice encroached on my senses as a force pushed me upright. It was Lou. My consciousness was returning. We were in the back of the hire car. Lou’s throaty, some might say seductive voice was giggling. ‘You must be dreaming of that man at the airport.’

      ‘I would be if he spoke to me in that sexy accent,’ Cathy added mimicking a French accent. I instantly imagined her little nostrils widening and thin lips pouting whilst her sharp blonde bob shimmied.

      Forcing my eyes open, I saw Angie lean forward and her hand flip from the steering wheel to tap her backside.

      ‘Me too,’ she said. ‘He can sit on my luggage any day. He was hot!’

      Typical of Angie. I grinned, then with a stretch, I roused myself, wiping saliva from the side of my mouth and realising the four of us were actually en-route to our ski trip. Sadly, I wasn’t with Mike at all. Letting my eyelids drop again, I yearned to return to the dream – to the top of that mountain – with Mike; where I wasn’t scared, and he was real. Very real. Those sweet eyes smiling. I wanted to yell to the world – Mike’s alive.

      I rubbed my eyes and peered out of the window, marvelling at majestic snowy peaks. As a lover of maps, I figured we must be in the Swiss Rhône valley. I sized up the mountains dwarfing us on both sides.

      ‘How embarrassing.’ I groaned, trying to imagine what I must have looked like slumped in the chair, dribbling.

      Lou was quick to defend me. ‘Don’t worry. You’re in good company. I used to do it all the time when I commuted to London.’ She stretched out her long legs and wriggled her socked feet to retrieve her designer snow boots from under the passenger seat. ‘We’re not far now, sweetheart. You might want to get your boots on too.’

      ‘Oh, right, yes.’ I sat up, remembering I was on a promise of fun, not just to my lovely friends, but also to my children. Thinking back to yesterday, Christmas Day, I remembered I’d promised myself and my children – Ross and Rachel – that I would embrace this week and use it as a pivot to move forward. They desperately missed their father too, and I was touched by the mature strength they displayed as they voiced their concerns. Mainly about me being on my own in Kent whilst they lived further north, with their families to keep them busy. So, although they would treasure their memories, they agreed they had both weathered the worst, and a memorial would be good, particularly for me. Like me, they felt it was the right time to let Mike go and whilst not forgetting him, I would set my sights forward and immerse myself in something enjoyable.

      Not that skiing and fun had ever sat equally on the scales in my brain. Instead of feeling excited like you do going on holiday, I was feeling numb, experiencing that sense you get when you’re not in control. Similar to that day Mike refused further chemo. I couldn’t say or do anything to change his mind and all strength and hope bled out of me. Cancer controlled us. And, like the chemo that prolonged Mike’s life before that, this week-long ski trip, I imagined, would only be a temporary fix. Nothing would bring him back. After this trip, I would return to my empty home, my purposeless job and bleak life without Mike, even if he had betrayed me. And that, I would never know for sure. It was impossible to question him. My only resolve was to break out of this mode of thinking, this bloody endless circle of self-persecution.

      My head fell to the side. Beside me, Lou was holding up a compact mirror and cleansing her face with a wipe, whilst I, in my head, was trying to eke out every particle of negativity that was in my brain. I wanted it wiped clean of the torment so that I could apply some new foundation to my life. Thank God I had my friends. Like Ross and Rachel, they were rooting for me to move on. They had my back, tolerated my gloominess, even when I rejected their efforts to take me out when I’d been wallowing. Well, wallow no more, Ginny Watts. I was jolly well going to make sure they knew I loved and appreciated them and show them I was determined to move forward.

      I sat up, lengthening my legs, pointing one foot in search of my boots whilst elevating the notes in my voice as I asked Angie, ‘So how far now?’

      In a motherly fashion, Lou responded with a smile and ran her thumb along the corner of my eye. ‘Only a few miles, sweetheart, and we’ll be turning off. You were having such a lovely sleep, I didn’t want to wake you, but you were in danger of noosing your neck on your seatbelt. You’ve been nodding since Geneva.’

      ‘Oh, I’m such a party pooper. I’m so sorry,’ I said, raising my tone another octave to flame enthusiasm. ‘I should text Kim. How long will it take, Angie?’

      Kim was our other bestie who had travelled separately from her home in Australia and was already at the resort. To think we thought our start had been an early one from Camfield Bottom in Kent; her journey must have been exhausting. And all for my benefit. My conscience was a supermarket shelf stacked with tins of guilt. My amazing friends had gone to such great efforts, organising this trip for me and leaving their husbands and families over Christmas. I was thrilled when Kim also agreed to come; it had helped me get over the shock of skiing in the Swiss Alps.

      Skiing! Something brave and adventurous to set me on my path, they had insisted. We were all hovering around sixty for goodness’ sake. My stomach had wrenched at the idea, but they were thinking ahead. It was designed to distract me from the first anniversary of Mike’s death and I guess they knew it would be a good time for a fresh start.

      Angie checked the clock on the dashboard. ‘About twenty minutes now. A few minutes on this road, then we’ll be going up and round the mountain.’

      Cathy turned her head from the front passenger seat. ‘Darling, Kim knows we’re on our way. You texted her soon after we landed,’ she said in her school ma’am voice, making me feel like one of her pupils.

      ‘I know, Cath, but I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear of our progress. She’s on her own there, don’t forget. Besides, we don’t want her forgetting to order our wine,’ I pointed out as I fumbled in my bag for my phone. I grabbed it and tapped in my password.

      As usual Cathy’s silky bob fascinated me as her shoulders shook indignantly. ‘Oh, yes of course. Silly me! Absolute necessity. Yes, do text her,’ Cathy said.

      I smiled. ‘Thank you, miss. I will,’ I said, starting my message and wondering if Cathy would ever forget she retired from teaching two years ago.

      Kim’s avatar was at the top of my phone list. I was so looking forward to seeing her again. After Mike’s funeral, on a whim, I returned with her to Oz and stayed a whole month. It was lovely being with her at that time even though I kept breaking down. I found her beautiful rose garden wonderfully soothing, and Kim was great, so patient. So generous with her time as we spent hours talking about what I would do and how I would manage living alone in the future. Those ideas soon fell apart, however, when I returned home to my redundancy letter, but she had offered some great suggestions, even the possibility of her moving back to Kent to keep me company, which excited me no end. She just has to work on Will,