Page 19 of Snowed In with You

‘This is a cool place,’ said Nate, holding up his glass. ‘Salut.’

‘I’m sorry about the nightmare journey,’ said Lucy, clinking his glass. It felt unfair to remind him, but they had to talk about something. The idea of sitting here in awkward silence for the next couple of hours felt far worse, and Lucy could already feel the regret kicking in.

‘It’s fine.’ Nate shrugged. ‘We’re here now. Do you think we’ll actually have to do any work tomorrow?’

‘Hmm,’ said Lucy, taking another slug of wine, glad of a new subject. ‘Depends on how pissed Kristoff gets later.’

‘When are the rest of them coming?’ asked Nate. Lucy felt a wave of annoyance as she realised that Nate had probably only come up here in the hope of seeing Sasha, and for him this lunch was just about killing time before the others arrived. But if that was the case, why agree to come so early? It was barely twelve, the others might not arrive for hours. And last night he’d left the bar early, presumably to avoid seeing Sasha. Maybe he was already planning their getaway for alone time back at the hotel, leaving everyone else safely up the mountain.

‘No idea,’ she muttered grumpily, spotting a group at a booth in the far corner standing up to put on their coats. ‘Quick, grab that.’ Nate jumped off his stool like it had just caught fire, and positioned himself next to the table before the couple waiting by the door had even noticed the ripple of movement. They glared malevolently as Lucy and Nate exchanged pleasantries with the outgoing group and slid into the empty booth, then plodded over in their ski boots to take the now-vacant stools at the bar.

‘Nice work,’ said Lucy, piling up the dirty plates and beer glasses so the waitress could clear them. ‘This is a great table.’

‘We could ask those people to join us,’ said Nate, cowering under the ongoing stares from the bar that Lucy was ignoring. ‘There’s room for all of us.’

‘Absolutely not,’ said Lucy, trying not to take offence at his apparent unwillingness to be alone with her, and considering for the first time that her aversion to Nate Lambert might be entirely mutual. The idea made her uncomfortable, not to mention mortified that it hadn’t previously occurred to her. Was she really that arrogant, to assume that she was instantly, delightfully likeable? It wasn’t like she had a huge crowd of friends hanging off her every word. She spread her arms along the top of the curved bench, feeling suddenly cold, and grateful for the heat pumping out of the vents under the windows. ‘Look, another table is leaving. It’s fine.’

Nate anxiously watched the new table dance as Lucy picked up the menu. The food options were carb and grease heavy, which suited her just fine. Whatever she ate and drank this afternoon would be burned off through terror-fuelled bus adrenaline later.

‘I wonder if they’re having fun skiing,’ said Nate, looking worriedly out of the window at the driving snow. ‘The weather looks awful, I hope they’re OK.’

‘They’ll be in another bar, I expect,’ said Lucy. ‘The Titan guys won’t take stupid risks; Kristoff is worth too much money, and Jonno’s wife would kill him. He’s got two kids.’

‘I bet Kristoff is a good skier,’ said Nate.

‘Jonno is too,’ said Lucy. ‘I’m not sure about Sasha.’ She looked up at Nate to see if there was any reaction, but he didn’t blink. Presumably their relationship had been going on for a while, so he’d had plenty of practice at playing dumb.

‘I wonder how Olly and Maya are getting on with Thérèse at the spa,’ he mused.

‘Hello,’ said the waitress, beaming at them both as she shovelled all the dirty plates and glasses onto a tray and swiftly wiped down the table with a damp cloth. ‘My name is Chantal, what can I get you?’ She was in her twenties and heartbreakingly pretty in a wholesome, mountain-girl way, with huge brown eyes and similar colouring to Gunther and Ulrich, which made Lucy wonder if she was Gunther’s daughter. Kristoff had said something last night about this place being run by a family, so that would make sense.

They ordered pizzas, then Chantal gestured to their empty wine glasses. ‘Another glass?’ she asked, her gaze fixed on Nate like Lucy wasn’t even there. Lucy ignored her, instead watching a small child clomp across the room in ski boots and open a cupboard full of board games.

‘Maybe a bottle?’ replied Nate with a shrug.

Lucy smiled, and decided that this afternoon might actually be OK.

‘Do you have any family?’ asked Nate, clearly trying to make small talk and picking the worst possible question. Lucy had navigated it many times before, but today it felt like an extra kick in the guts. Maybe this was why she’d always spent Leo’s anniversary with her parents – to avoid conversations like this.

‘My parents live in Croydon,’ she said, trying to sound upbeat and normal. ‘I have a brother, but I don’t see much of him.’ Time had taught Lucy not to deny having a sibling, because being an only child prompted a whole other conversation that quickly descended into outright lies and fabrication. An estranged brother was pretty common, and not very interesting.

‘You’re not close to your brother?’ asked Nate, his eyes widening.

No, thought Lucy, her head spinning as she took another slug of wine. This absolutely cannot be the thing we talk about.

‘It’s no big deal,’ she said dismissively, not wanting to raise a red flag that would prompt further questions. ‘We don’t have much in common.’

‘He’s not like you?’ asked Nate.

‘What do you mean?’ demanded Lucy, looking up at him sharply. Did Nate know about Leo? That she’d had a twin? She felt cornered, and a hot feeling of panic rushed to her cheeks.

‘Oh,’ said Nate, clearly taken aback by the forcefulness of her response. ‘I . . . just wondered if you and he were alike.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Lucy. ‘What am I like?’

He glanced at her for a moment, clearly trying to work out how to answer when the conversation had taken a weird turn. ‘Interesting,’ he said, lowering his eyes to his glass and blushing a little. ‘Talented. Beautiful.’

Lucy laughed in surprise, not sure if Nate was taking the piss. He barely looked at or spoke to her from one day to the next, and now she was talented and beautiful?