What Happens in the Alps... (15 page)

‘Why don't you drop in to the school one day next week? Say, late afternoon? That way you can see her and have a talk. If I'm there I can man the office while you take her for a coffee. I tell you what, I'll tell her you need to come in for a second interview. Good idea?'

His smile answered for him. At that moment the others all started to get up from the table. Annie saw that it was two minutes to two, almost time for the next lessons. They all trooped off, Paul giving her a smile as he went. ‘Thanks, Annie.'

Annie sat back, well pleased she might be able to help Paolina and Paul rekindle the relationship that had eluded them at school; most of all, though, she felt sure this would be the best way of steering Paolina away from Matt. For a moment she had a sudden thought. What if Matt had been talking about Paolina when he had said he might have found the girl of his dreams? What effect might that have on the school? And what might that mean for Paul? What if Paolina and Paul got together and Matt were to find himself on the receiving end of a dumping for once? One thing was for sure; if that was the case it could spell trouble.

She found a spare seat on the terrace and sat in the sunshine for an hour, thinking back over a wonderful morning and wondering what Alex's father wanted to tell her. She watched the little birds as they meticulously cleared up every scrap and crumb from beneath the tables. One even came and sat on her hand for several minutes, enjoying the sunshine and preening himself.

She allowed herself to think more deeply about Alex. There was no disguising the fact that she liked him a lot, and that kiss had been quite something. Whether the emotion of his touch or her natural clumsiness had been responsible for her inelegant fall was debatable, but she had definitely enjoyed the kiss. The fact of the matter, she told herself sternly, was that she had only met him three times, and on the first of these, after Leo's accident, they had barely exchanged more than a handful of words. She had only been out with him once on a sort of date and, before today, she hadn't even kissed him on the cheek. For somebody who had publicly announced that she wasn't interested in finding herself another man, this was looking a bit impetuous. She told herself firmly that she should take things slowly. But, in spite of all this, there was no disguising the pleasure his kiss had brought.

The time passed remarkably quickly as she tried to bring some order to her confused thoughts. Finally, she checked her watch. By this time, it was past three, so she got up and headed back to her car. After changing out of her ski boots, she clipped her skis onto the roof rack and drove down the private road to Signor Lago's chalet. She stopped her car outside the gate and was about to get out and ring the bell when a humming sound and flashing yellow lights told her the gates were opening. A disembodied voice from the keypad on the wall told her to drive in and park. She did as she was instructed and climbed out of the car to be met enthusiastically by Leo the Labrador, his master following behind him.

‘Annie, how good of you to come.' Signor Lago looked pleased to see her and the Labrador most certainly was. Annie knelt down on the snowy lawn and made a fuss of him. Then she remembered something that had been bothering her. ‘Good afternoon, Signor Lago. Tell me something, please. How is it that Leo manages to wander all over the place up here when you live in a walled garden? He hasn't got his own key, surely?'

Signor Lago smiled and beckoned. ‘In fact, he has. Come and I'll show you.' He led her across the virgin snow to a clump of bushes in one corner of the garden. Behind them, Annie saw a lot of canine paw prints and a small steel door set into the bottom of the wall. As Leo got up close to the door, an electric motor began to whine and the door opened. The dog squeezed through, disappearing from sight. Signor Lago was smiling more broadly. ‘You see, he's got a magic electronic key attached to his collar so he can come and go as he pleases, but foxes and other undesirables can't get in. Modern technology's terrific, isn't it?' He gave a low whistle and the dog reappeared. ‘Mind you, Alex keeps telling me I should keep him in more, but I can't do that to him after he's had the run of the place for so long.' As they returned to the house, Annie heard the deluxe dog door close behind them. She wondered idly what something like that might cost, but there was clearly no shortage of money round here.

Back in the luxurious lounge, Romeo appeared and asked if they would like tea. After he had gone off to prepare it, Signor Lago led Annie over to the sofa once more. Now, in the daylight, the view from the panoramic windows was even more phenomenal than by night. Annie could see snow-covered peaks in three countries: Italy, France and Switzerland. It was almost like being in an aeroplane. They chatted about the snow and the skiing for a few minutes until Romeo arrived with the tea.

Once he had poured the tea and offered Annie a plate of biscuits, Signor Lago revealed his secret. ‘Annie, you know you were telling me you were looking for somewhere to live? Well, I might have a solution for you, if you're interested.' Annie most certainly was. She leant forward, eager to hear what he had to say.

‘Alessandro probably told you that I was born and bred here. Well, that means I know a lot of the people around here. One of my oldest and best friends is a gentleman by the name of Louis Dumoulin. He lives about halfway down the road towards Santorso. It's a little village called Le Pont. Anyway, he and his wife have got a similar house to this one; maybe a bit smaller, but nevertheless, a fine house. When they had it built, they got the builders to add what they call the guest chalet. It's a rather nice little place just along the road from them where they used to put guests or visitors other than close family.' He looked up and caught Annie's eye. ‘Now that they're terribly old, like me, they no longer have visitors outside of the family, so they were telling me they're thinking of renting out the chalet, but they didn't want just anybody living there. So, I thought to myself, that's where you might come in.'

Annie did a bit of quick thinking. The idea of being so close to the ski slopes was amazing for somebody who loved the sport as much as she did. And if she remembered right, Le Pont was barely a ten or fifteen-minute drive from the school. It sounded fantastic. The problem, she feared, would be the price. She glanced around the magnificent room with its wood panelling and triple glazing. This sort of luxury didn't come cheap. Still, the idea was very appealing, not least as, with a two-week Christmas hiatus coming up and no other accommodation on the horizon, she was beginning to get desperate. She gave him a big smile and thanked him most warmly for thinking of her. He held up a hand.

‘But first you've got to see it. You may not like it, after all. I took the liberty of speaking to them about you this morning and they sound very keen. Finish your tea and I'll ask Romeo to take us down to view it.'

Signor Dumoulin's house was indeed very similar to Signor Lago's. So similar, in fact, that Annie felt sure it had to be the work of the same architect. The guest chalet was less than a hundred metres from it, along a private road. There was no imposing stone wall round it, just a picket fence, now half submerged beneath the snow. Somebody had cleared the path to the front door in readiness for their visit. From the outside, it looked like a much smaller, single-storey version of the main chalet, all made of chunky wood. Old Signor Dumoulin opened the door and ushered them in.

There was only a small kitchen, but it was beautifully furnished with granite work tops and top-of-the-range built-in oven and hob. He showed her a door in one corner leading down to a huge dry cellar under the house. Beyond the kitchen was a large, open-plan living room with a stylish silver woodburner in one corner. Like Signor Lago's house, the end wall was all glass and this, too, looked out over the valley as far as Santorso. Even though they were a good few hundred metres lower than Montalto, the view over the roofs of Santorso was still wonderful. The floors throughout the house were made of wide wooden planks and it was boiling hot in there. Evidently, instructions had been given to turn the heating up.

‘There's just the one bedroom.' Signor Dumoulin opened a door set in the right-hand wall of the living room and Annie found a charming light wood-panelled bedroom with a large modern bathroom attached. There was no doubt about it; this place was absolutely gorgeous, and no doubt way outside her price range. She was on the point of formulating a suitable way of telling the old man she couldn't afford it when he surprised her by naming a monthly rental figure that she really could afford. She began to protest.

‘But, Signor Dumoulin, surely you could rent this place for much, much more. Why, if you rented it short term during the ski season, you'd probably get that much each week, not each month.'

He brushed away her protests. ‘My wife and I don't want to rent it out to just anybody. No, Pierluigi tells me you need a home and we would like the place to be occupied. It seems to me an admirable solution. So, what do you say? Will you take it? Will you become our neighbour?' He and Signor Lago exchanged glances. ‘Have a little walk around and think about it.'

Annie took his advice and walked back into the living room, over to the windows, her eyes on the view. There was no doubt in her mind that this place was phenomenal and so conveniently located. Signor Dumoulin followed her and pointed out that the doors and windows on this wall opened up completely like a concertina onto the large wooden patio. Annie put her eyes to the window and could imagine sitting outside in the summer, admiring the view, a glass of wine in her hand. Decision made. As Signor Dumoulin closed the doors once more she looked across at him and held out her hand. ‘Signor Dumoulin, this place is absolutely fantastic. I'll take it. Thank you so much.'

When Annie got back to the school, she found the door open and a strong smell of fresh paint coming from Matt's office. She pulled off her jacket and peered round the door. He was up a stepladder, running a roller across the ceiling.

‘Hi, Matt.' She had to shout louder as he was wearing earphones. ‘Matt, it's me.' This time he heard her and turned round with a big smile.

‘Hi, Annie. How was the snow?' He climbed back down the ladder and rested the roller on the paint tray. Annie glanced round. The orange painted walls were now a light cream colour and the ceiling all the better for receiving a coat of white. The room looked cleaner, fresher and a lot bigger.

‘The snow was amazing. Wow, this room looks completely different.' Annie remembered that Matt had always been very good at DIY.

‘Yeah, but I'll have to give it a second coat. That bloody orange keeps burning back through. By the way, while I was at it, I gave your office ceiling a fresh coat of white.'

‘Matt, you shouldn't have. Cup of tea?' Annie didn't wait for his answer and went through to find her desk covered by a dust cloth and the ceiling looking much brighter. She went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. A glance out of the window into the gathering dusk told her it was almost tea time. She made two mugs of tea, located a packet of biscuits and walked back through to where Matt was just finishing his ceiling. He set down the roller and wiped his hands on a cloth. His arms were covered in drops of white paint and the black T-shirt he was wearing now looked like a Jackson Pollock original. His face was splattered and his thick dark hair was similarly covered.

‘Matt, you look about a hundred with your grey hair.'

‘I feel about a hundred after doing the ceilings. You know, I was just thinking that the ascent of the Petite Aiguille Verte is less strain on the arms and shoulders than painting a frigging ceiling. But I might just be showing my age.' He flexed his back and came out into the hall to join her. He pulled up a chair, sat down and stretched his legs. Annie joined him and handed over his mug of tea.

‘Thanks, Annie, just what I wanted. So, tell me about the skiing.'

‘The most amazing powder. We skied for almost three hours and I feel like a total wreck now.'

‘You don't look it.' Matt sipped his tea. ‘Excellent. You said “we”. You and your new man, by any chance?'

Annie gave him a little smile. ‘Not telling. Anyway, I've been meaning to ask: where have you been staying this weekend?'

Matt grinned back. ‘Not telling. No, seriously, I found a B&B just a few blocks from here. I've got a very nice room, although the Russian girls in the next room make a lot of noise. It's almost as if they're trying to attract my attention…'

Annie shook her head in mock despair and then sat with him while they drank their tea and she told him the amazing news about Signor Dumoulin's guest chalet on the road to Montalto. When he heard who had put her on to it, Matt whistled. ‘Wow, you've met old man Lago? The last I heard from Massimo, he was a hermit, a recluse; didn't want to see anybody, kept himself to himself.'

Annie told him about the Labrador and the accident and how Signor Lago had invited her to his house for rabbit stew to say thank you. Matt gave her a big smile. ‘One good turn deserves another. That's absolutely great. And I look forward to seeing it. Anyway, now I'd better get back to my decorating. And remember, if the new place needs a coat of paint, you know you've got your very own decorator here.'

‘Thanks, Matt.' Annie also stood up, collecting the mugs. She gave him a weary smile. ‘About the decorating, I said I'd give you a hand, but I'm exhausted after all the skiing and all the fresh air. Do you mind if I leave you to it?'

‘I'm almost done. You go on. I've got to be out of here by six at the latest as I'm off to the theatre.' Seeing the expression on Annie's face, he elaborated. ‘There's a performance of
Hamlet
at the local theatre. I'd ask you to come, but I know for a fact that tickets are all sold out. I got the last one, probably behind a pillar, knowing my luck.'