Richard gives me a moment to gather myself, then slides a holiday brochure onto the table. On the front of it is a picture of a ski slope with people dressed in colourful skiwear. They are all smiling. I look at him with afrown.
“What’sthis?”
“This is what I was talking about. I’ve been working as the marketing director for a ski resort in Alpe d’Huez, France. My friend Bastien is running the resort. One of the chalet girls has had to go home, and he needs to replace her fast. He owes me a favour, so I called it in. I asked if he would hire you for thejob.”
My mouth drops open. “That’s the work you were talking about?But…”
Richard holds his hand up. “Don’t rule it out just yet, let me tell you about itfirst.”
“I can’t possibly go. You heard what I said about Mum. Besides, Christmas is three weeks away. You know what happened to Mum last year,” I say, shaking my head. I glance at the brochure again wishing, not for the first time, that I had a mother who isn’t a deadbeat drunk. I am tired of the role-reversal.
“Hear me out, Louisa. That’s all Iask.”
“Fine,” I say, but I know I won’t take the job. Every Christmas Mum loses her shit. Last year was by far the worst. She’d gone on a bender for a week and was taken to A&E after some little old lady found her unconscious at the local park, covered in cuts and bruises. The police thought she had drunk too much and passed out, knocking her head. But I saw the marks on her skin and I knew that more had happened to her. It was the only time I thanked God she was a drunk, at least she wouldn’t have rememberedanything.
“The job starts next week and will run through to the new year, longer if you want to stay until the end of the season. Flights are covered, and you will stay the whole duration in the chalet your guests will be holidaying in. You will need to provide breakfast and dinner for your guests, tidy their rooms, that kind of stuff. But between the hours of ten thirty am and five pm you’re free to do as you please. Most other staff spend their time skiing. Once the evening meal is finished and you’ve tidied up, the rest of the night is your own. What do you say,Louisa?”
I look from Richard’s eager face to the brochure and back again. It sounds so wonderful. The thought of spending a whole month away from my mum and her shitty ‘boyfriends’ is so tempting. I’ve never been abroad before let alone out of London, so the thought of living in a beautiful wooden chalet nestled in the hills of some snowy mountain is like a dream come true. Yet I push the brochure back toRichard.
“You know Ican’t.”
“Louisa…” Richard starts, just as my phone begins to ring. I look at the screen. It’s Mum. I swipe across and press my ear to thephone.
“Where the bloody hell are you? Dom and I have been waiting for fucking ages. Bring us the damn drink you useless, good for nothing piece ofsh...”
I don’t bother to listen to the rest of the call. I hang up and grab the brochure from Richard, who is about to put it back in hisbag.
“What time’s the flight?” Iask.