Page 32 of Head Over Skis

12

‘I believe it’s time to take our lesson to new heights.’ Rory addresses the group, pointing further up the mountain and I turn my attention to the chairlift.

As a group we move to join the queue, splitting into smaller clumps. I instinctively move towards Tilly and Meghan.

‘Stephen, you must sit with us!’ Tilly calls out before I reach them.

I still move to join the row, only for Penny to swoop in and corral me to the front of the queue with her.

‘Do be a dear and help me out, I’m terribly nervous of these things,’ she says, glancing around and catching Rory’s attention too. ‘And you, I think I’ll need both of you helping me off at the top.’

‘And what about me?’ Bill grumbles, as usual giving the impression that he’d rather be anywhere else.

‘You’ll survive without me for a few minutes. Go and sit with the others,’ she replies, waving him into the remaining space in the row behind whilst positioning herself between Rory and me.

We wait at the barrier, Rory giving timely instructions to Penny. Once the barrier opens, we move quickly into position as the empty lift swings around, and the three of us sit down on Rory’s count and he pulls down the lap bar. As we ascend, I stare out over the rolling snow-covered mountains, content to sit in silence for the journey and take in the view from a new angle.

I wish I had my paints and a canvas right now so I could capture the beauty of the landscape. I usually only draw with pencil, little occasional sketches, unless it’s someone’s birthday and I crack open the nicer stuff. Recently, I haven’t been inspired to open my sketchbook much, but here it’s hard not to wish that’s what I was doing all day.

I’m happy being left to my thoughts, but Penny clearly has other ideas.

‘How old are you, Rory?’

I twist around to face her, shocked that she’s asking such a personal question.

‘If it helps, I’m sixty-five, which I know must be shocking given my sprightliness.’

Given that she already told us this fact yesterday I don’t see why it should be reason enough for Rory to admit his age. I realise that despite our history, we never actually covered the ‘how old are you’ thing.

It wasn’t important at the time, first date fodder in the same category as ‘how many siblings do you have’, or ‘what’s your favourite colour’, the latter of which I can now answer, but for a one-night stand I wasn’t that fussed.

But now, I’m worried that he’ll answer and he’ll say something way outside of the range I’m comfortable with. Some people look younger than they are, so maybe he’s much older, thirty-five perhaps. Or maybe the opposite is true and he’s just turned eighteen. Does that make things weird?

‘Twenty-eight,’ Rory replies stiffly, and I find myself breathing a sigh of relief.

Penny nods, and I try to relax again and let that line of questioning die down.

‘And you, Lottie?’

‘Me?’ I startle, as if she could be talking to someone else, another Lottie maybe, but it’s only the three of us on the lift, and I doubt she’s addressing someone on the ground twenty feet below us.

‘Uh…’ I consider not answering, but even though I don’t know her that well I get the idea she’ll find a way to get the answer out of me anyway.

‘I’m twenty-seven,’ I confess, and I watch as she sits straighter, her face brightening.

‘That’ll do quite nicely then. A few more questions for you, Rory. What are your thoughts on marriage? Children? Perhaps an estimate of your annual salary and any stock or shares you own?’

‘Oh look, we’re about to reach the top,’ Rory cuts in and I’m grateful for the interruption to the inquisition Penny was beginning.

‘Lap bar up, everyone, and get ready to stand. Penny, do you think you’re going to be okay with this bit? You said earlier you found it a bit daunt—’

Before he finishes his sentence she’s already stood up and is gliding down the short slope, coming to a smooth stop at what I guess must be the start of the run. Luckily, I manage to disembark with much more success than this morning, and while Rory waits for the rest of the class, I make a beeline for Penny.

She sees me approach and continues dusting snow off her jacket as if nothing has happened.

‘What was that all about? Are you planning on writing his memoir?’

‘I thought I’d help speed things along a bit. Ask the difficult questions, work out if he might be a good fit practically.’