Ginny recalled her earlier doubts about Cat’s near miss, but she pushed them away. Cat had always been more subtle when she wanted attention. She wasn’t one for theatrics. That was Ginny’s department, and she was good at it. In fact, she had a nice little show planned for later, well rehearsed and ready to go live. Even Cat being ill wasn’t going to spoil it. There was something she intended to say, and she was looking forward to the reaction.
By the time they reached the restaurant, Ginny was humming a little tune. She wasn’t sure why, but Survivor’s ‘Eye of the Tiger’ had popped into her head and was setting the scene very nicely indeed.
Nine
SATURDAY AFTERNOON
Even though it had been in her line of sight as they descended, seeing the restaurant up close was like discovering an oasis in the desert. Cat stopped in front of the wooden building and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The relief was palpable. She looked down at her hands. They’d stopped shaking, but she knew she needed something to eat and drink, and a proper rest before they carried on. She had no idea why she’d suddenly felt so strange up the mountain, but she was thankful for Ginny’s quick action. Maybe she wasn’t so useless after all. Cat vowed to try and be less hard on her – at least for the rest of the day. She wanted to go with the flow, be more like her sister, but there was a knot in her stomach today that she couldn’t quite shift. She tried to put herself in Ginny’s shoes – think about how she would react if she was facing the issues that Cat was right now – and she knew that Ginny would be ruthless. Despite her sister’s ditzy little games, when she was unhappy about something, she made sure that everyone knew about it.
Cat followed the others inside. The Refuge de Solalex was a typical Alpine chalet. Two peaked buildings with a cluster of wooden benches and tables outside, some topped with umbrellas. In the background, the majestic mountains. Picture-postcard stuff. Despite their journey so far, it was worth it for this. She hoped the food was good – but the way she felt right now, she’d probably eat the leather from an old shoe.
They took a table in the corner, by a window. Dark, shabby-chic tables and stools. The wooden walls of the chalet were adorned with a high shelf filled with copper pots; the space below was decorated with old-fashioned snowshoes hung on the walls, amidst some cheerful paintings of people drinking at tables just like the one where the rest of her group sat. The menu was written on a small blackboard on a stand. Ginny was holding it up, frowning as she read. No doubt being picky about what was on there.
Cat sat down on the stool next to Paul. He was reading his table mat, which contained drawings and historical information, in English and in French. She glanced around the room then towards the small bar area, where a few rugged-looking men sat on high stools, laughing with the bar staff. The place wasn’t busy – probably because it was well past lunchtime – and the waiters were taking their time to clear tables and chat with some of the customers. Thankfully there was already a carafe of water and four glasses waiting for them. Cat poured herself a drink.
Tristan stood up. ‘I’ll go to the bar.’
Cat attempted to wave him back down. ‘It’ll be table service. They’ll be here in a second.’ She picked up the menu from where Ginny had sat it down. ‘What are we all having?’ She took a long drink of her water, then refilled her glass.
Tristan ignored her and walked across to the bar.
‘What’s tartiflette?’ Ginny asked. ‘Is it a quiche? Says it comes with salade verte – which even I can work out is green salad . . .’
‘It’s a sort of creamy potato dish, with bacon and cheese. You’ll like it, Gins. Bit warm for summer, but perfect to replenish us. I think I might have that.’
‘What else is there?’ Paul hadn’t looked at the board. He preferred Cat telling him what there was, because she knew what he liked. She used to think this was quite sweet, but now realised it was more to do with his weakness and indifference. Traits that had only come to light very recently, and neither of which were appealing.
She held back a sigh. ‘There’s a steak sandwich with fries – when it says sandwich, it’ll be a chunk of baguette of course. Um, a local sausage with fries . . . and some sort of fish stew. Plus chef’s salad, which I think usually has cubes of cheese and ham in it. That’s the most summery thing on the menu, I think.’
Tristan appeared back at the table, a grinning waitress in his wake. Cat had to hand it to him, despite his often acerbic nature, he always managed to charm the ladies. He had the looks. Messy black hair, athletic body. Strong, sexy arms. She could see what Ginny saw in him. She used to think he was a complete prick, but she’d seen another side to him lately. He’d been the right choice of person to help her organise this trip, and he definitely enjoyed spending time with her. More than he enjoyed spending time with his wife – which was a bit of an issue. She wondered if she was just the latest in a long line of his little ‘obsessions’。