none of this was unfolding in front of me. I just wish Clive had told me sooner that I’d been fake-reading it upside-down.
Suddenly, Gaz patted his stomach. “I’m famished,” he said loudly. “Anyone care to dive into some fondue? My treat.”
“Not likely. You’d faster see a yeti than Gaz with cash,” Cilla said.
As they bickered, Clive gently turned us all toward the door as if it were the most natural time in the world to take our leave. As the three of them swept me out of there, I heard Agatha’s voice.
“Oh, Nicky, just don’t go off and get engaged until I’ve at least introduced you to Ursula Northrop-Cumber’s daughter Ruth,” she pleaded. “She’s so aristocratic. She speaks four languages!”
“I’m not getting engaged, Agatha,” Nick said firmly, and that was the last thing I heard before the door slammed behind us.
There was something undeniably awkward about hearing him say that so staunchly, particularly after Bea’s lecture the previous night. Cilla seemed to feel like she had to distract me from it, dispatching Gaz and Clive in the direction of the ski lift and regaling me over lunch with the latest details of her on-off relationship with Tony. He had not been invited to Klosters, most likely to prevent headlines like PRINCES HIT POWDER WITH SOHO COKE HO.
“He swears it’s his business partner who’s doing it,” Cilla said, poking at her bratwurst. “I know you think it’s mental of me to still be with him. He’s just a sight better than any of the blokes ’round my sister’s village. And nannying her children takes it out of me. All I want is a bit of fun when I’m in London.”
“But there might be plenty of fun guys who don’t also potentially sell drugs,” I said.
“Is my bar that low?” she groaned. “Am I turning into Joss?”
“Just as long as you don’t start giving me sweaters,” I told her, a rueful glance down at my own. It was not the last time that my wardrobe would publicly be found wanting.
Nick caught up with Cilla and me as we were strapping on our skis for another run. He had changed into an orange ski suit with green piping, and with that and a knit cap and goggles, he looked totally anonymous.
“Irish colors?” I asked. “Interesting pick.”
“They’ll never expect it,” Nick said.
The three of us carried our skis to the enclosed gondola and rode it all the way up to the top, passing quaint mountainside cafes and looking down at skiers of every ability carving through the fluffy powder, and occasionally wiping out. In fact, we were about to disembark when a round-looking figure careened down one of the steeper runs, totally out of control, screaming as he went past.
“There goes Gaz,” Cilla observed calmly.
He rolled like a ball and then skidded to a stop, spread-eagle, in the snow.
“He can barely ski at all,” Cilla added. “He just doesn’t like Clive to feel superior.” She sighed. “I’d best go make sure he hasn’t broken his leg again.”
“I’ll take you down the hill, Bex,” Nick said as she skied away. “It’ll be nice to slow down and actually see the views.”
“Speak for yourself,” I said. “I will be watching my feet.”
We pushed over to a patch of snow-covered trees and plopped down in the powder to get our gear in place. Nick sat with his back to most of the other skiers and pulled up the hood on his parka while rubbing sunscreen onto his face.
“My family has been in rare form,” he said. “I’m sorry about that whole scene down there today. That reporter’s question had me in such a mood, I didn’t even defend you properly until you were already gone.”
“Don’t sweat it. I understand.”
“I just can’t believe we’ve got a leak,” he said. “I promised I’d keep you out of the papers.”
“It’s not your fault,” I insisted. “You can’t control the entire world.”
He blew out his lips. “Clearly, I can’t even control my own corner of it.” He stared out at the mountain. “I just wanted it to be on our terms, always. What’s the bloody point of being who I am if I can’t even make it safe for you to be with me?”
“Nick. A question from a reporter is not going to scare me off,” I said.
He gave me a grateful smile, then fell silent, fiddling with the straps on his poles.
“Gaz seems happy in his legal training. Clive’s a reporter, just like he always wanted. Joss is busy making