Five Ladies Go Skiing: A feel-good novel of friendship and love

About the Author

KAREN ALDOUS enjoys village life on the edge of the North Downs in Kent with easy access to the buzz of London. Not only does she love the passive pleasures of reading and writing but also craves more active pursuits such as walking, cycling and skiing – especially when they involve family, friends, food, and … wine!

Much of Karen’s inspiration comes from her travels. The UK, France, Switzerland and USA are just some of the places you’ll be transported to in her books, but wherever she goes, new characters invite themselves into ‘Karen’s World’ screaming at her to tell their stories; strong independent women who are capable of directing their own lives but struggle to control them … especially when temptation strikes!

As a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and The Write Place, Karen feels she owes so much of her success to the love and support of her fellow writers.

You can follow Karen on Twitter at @KarenAldous_

Also by Karen Aldous

The Vineyard

The Chateau

The Riviera

One Moment at Sunrise

Under A Tuscan Sky

Five Ladies Go Skiing

KAREN ALDOUS

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

Copyright © Karen Aldous 2018

Karen Aldous asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © November 2018 ISBN: 9780008302672

Version: 2018-10-31

PRAISE FOR KAREN ALDOUS

‘A story of relationships, love and the importance of family, a romantic tale that leaves the reader with a glow.’

Postcard Reviews

‘I could have been lost in this book for months on end and I wouldn’t have noticed the days slipping by …’

Becca’s Books

‘Light, easy to read and entertaining, perfect for a summer holiday read.’

Portybelle

‘A perfect book for these final summer days, to indulge in with a glass of wine or two.’

Paris Baker (Amazon Reviewer)

‘Escapism with more than a touch of reality … Karen Aldous is an author that you need on “auto order”!’

Crooks on Books

‘A great holiday read – quick, easy and entertaining!’

Ginger Cat Blog

‘Gloriously escapist, wonderfully entertaining and absolutely impossible to put down! Sure to appeal to fans of Cathy Kelly and Erica James.’

Bookish Jottings

‘Fascinating, heartwarming, engaging, romantic and utterly compelling.’

Sparkly Words

To Lynette & Stephen, Christine & Nigel, Sally and Peter

With Love

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Also by Karen Aldous

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Karen Aldous

Dedication

Meet the Girls – Preparing for Switzerland

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Twelve Months Later

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

Dear Reader

Dear Reader

About the Publisher

MEET THE GIRLS – Preparing for Switzerland

Ginny

As Ginny stepped out into the dining area, the candlelit festive dining table caught her breath. She shuddered at the sting in the backs of her eyes.

‘Oh, it’s …’ The amber flickering mixed with the sparkle of the decorations toyed with her emotions. They looked almost too cheerful. ‘It’s gorgeous,’ she said, blinking away those brimming tears. Her daughter Rachel and daughter-in-law Clemmie had laid it beautifully, and Ginny’s heart swelled at the effort each of her children and in-laws, even the grandchildren, had made on this difficult day: their first Christmas without their father and grandfather. It just didn’t feel right to enjoy Christmas without him.

The family waited in silence for her to be seated, watching as she wiped a stray tear from her face and pulled on a band at the back of her head, unleashing her mane of shoulder-length hair that she had tied back before preparing dinner.

‘You’ve all made such an effort. Thank you,’ she said smiling at each of them as she nestled in the chair and smoothed her hair. ‘OK, let’s enjoy,’ she added, grateful for their input. Thank goodness Rachel and Ross had helped in the kitchen getting everything into the right serving dishes. The morning had been manic. In fact, the whole week had. It had been a rush trying to fit everything in before her ski trip to Switzerland. The effort involved in getting time off work for a hair appointment, getting to the farm shop for the last-minute veg, fruit and salad, cleaning the house, cooking the meats and prepping in readiness for the family’s arrival had all proved to be worth it. She had forgotten just how much Mike used to contribute to helping around the house, particularly at Christmas and family gatherings. He always prepped the veg and was a dab hand at juggling the food around in the fridge so that beers and wine would fit in. They were small things that counted in a big way.

She heaved out a sigh. At least they were all together. She raised her Prosecco-filled glass, first to her daughter Rachel and son Ross who sat either side of her, then to the others.

‘Well, shall we …?’ Ginny waited for each of her family to pick up a filled glass or, in the children’s case, plastic flutes of lemonade.

‘Merry Christmas, Mum,’ Rachel cheered in unison with Ross, and Ginny’s eyes glistened mirroring theirs, her gaze flicking quickly to their partners and children gathered around the festive-food-filled table.

‘Hope you’re feeling our cheer, Dad,’ Rachel hailed, peering out of the window and up at the grey sky. ‘We miss you loads but we’ll always cherish our lovely memories. Merry Christmas.’

‘Absolutely,’ Ginny rushed in after a gulp of the bubbly, trying again to steel herself against the constant burning in the backs of her eyes; but then catching a glimpse of Rachel’s lips quivering, a sudden gasp escaped her throat. ‘Me … merry Ch … Christmas, Mike.’ It was only the third time they had all been together since Mike’s passing but it wasn’t getting any easier.

Ross reached for his mother’s wrist, his caring green-grey eyes, so like his father’s, misting. ‘You OK, Mum?’

Ginny reached for her napkin, holding back sobs as five-year-old Tommy, Rachel’s eldest, gazed at her, concerned. ‘Yes, yes. I’ll be all right. Truly. I knew it would be tough. Our first Christmas without him. I know it’s difficult for all of you too.’

‘I miss Grandad,’ Tommy said. ‘He’s going to miss me opening my presents.’

A symphony of swallowing and gasping sounds resonated around the table and, like her mother, the petite Rachel grabbed her napkin and wiped her eyes as she turned to her son. ‘I know, darling, but he’s here in spirit. We just have to deal with the rest.’ She turned to the empty chair then back to her son. ‘We’ll get used to it; we have to. Come on, there’s a good boy, get your dinner.’

Ross leaned back, nervously rubbing his four-year-old daughter Amelia’s back and faced his mother. ‘If you don’t mind, Mum,’ he said hesitantly, ‘I’d like to ring you on Monday, the twenty-eighth, the anniversary. A bit selfish I know, but I just want to know that you’re all right.’

‘Me too,’ Rachel added, gently squeezing her mother’s hand.

Fighting yet another lump in her throat, Ginny smiled as she glanced at each of her children. An image of Mike amused her. It was one from years ago when he was teasing Ross’s friends that the Friends comedy characters were named after his kids. As much as she wondered and tortured herself about what Mike may or may not have done, he was still their children’s dad and they had loved him unconditionally and were both coping so well with his loss. The urge to jump up and kiss them both became overwhelming.

‘My cherubs, of course, I won’t mind. That would be lovely, thank you. Both of you. It’s a major step for all of us and if it helps you too, then even better. I remember when my dad died, it took me ages to come to terms with it. Just hearing Louis Armstrong sing “Wonderful World” on the radio would start me off. For some reason I coped with Grandma’s passing better. I’ve read though, that the first anniversary of a beloved’s death can be a turning point, so let’s hope so. We’ll never forget Dad, but we all have to move on.’ She blinked at her own words. ‘I’ve been thinking about having some sort of memorial that day, to help.’

Rachel looked aghast. ‘Not on your own.’

‘No. With the girls.’ Ginny clenched her teeth. ‘All of us, I’m sure they won’t mind. We may need a rest from the skiing by then anyway. That’s if I even get on the slopes.’ Ginny gave a snort, realising the impression her negativity would give. Her usual self-doubts crept in. ‘Oh, please don’t let on to the girls, but I’m petrified.’

‘Oh, Mum, I thought you were.’ Rachel gazed at her mother with concern. ‘You know, there’s still time to change your mind, although I think it’s a perfect distraction, a great idea to challenge yourself as well as have fun with your friends.’

Ginny slid her knife beneath a slice of succulent white turkey and laid it gently onto her plate. ‘No. No, I wouldn’t – couldn’t – let my friends down. They’ve organised this all on my behalf. I’m really touched that they care so much. So, no. I’m determined to throw myself into it. And, I’m exaggerating. It will be a new challenge, and I’m sure the girls will expect me to organise something to remember Dad. Angie even suggested it at one point. I don’t want the trip to be miserable though. Just a toast at a meal or something. I’m not really sure if there will be anywhere suitable, but once we’re there, hopefully I’ll find a place I think is right and I’ll ask the girls. I’m sure they won’t mind. Like you, they’ll think it fitting that we remember him.’

Ginny flinched as one of the red candles in the centre of the table flickered. She would never get used to losing Mike despite her need to question him. She missed him terribly. And it was incomprehensible that he was taken at just sixty-one. Was it punishment for his misdemeanour? Not that she could ever know anything now. His words would echo, possibly haunt forever, but no explanation would ever be spoken. All she knew was that she needed closure and the determination to stop tormenting herself and wallowing in self-pity.

‘Your hair looks really good by the way. I like the new shorter fringe,’ Rachel said, brushing her fingers through a spring of Ginny’s bouncy highlighted hair. ‘You’re looking amazingly fit too. You must have worked really hard preparing. You remind me of that … oh, what’s her name, the Sex and the City woman, er … Kim Cattrall. That’s the one. Don’t be surprised if you pull on the slopes.’

‘Don’t be daft. I’m almost sixty not sixteen.’ Ginny laughed, but was thankful to be side-tracked from the incessant niggling that festered in her mind. ‘But, I’m flattered. Thank you. It’s been hard work and I pray that I’ve done enough to get me through the week. I’m apprehensive about skiing, yes, but I’m really looking forward to having some fun with the girls. The timing’s perfect and I’m certainly glad to be away from that office. I was tempted to walk out on Thursday.’

Ginny shook her head and scrunched her nose. ‘It’s not a nice place to work, but I thought of today, with all of you, and the week away with my all my friends. The break will be the tonic I need. Maybe I’ll look at the job differently when I get back.’

Kim

Sheltering from the late afternoon sun under a canvas canopy Kim Anderson drained the last of the tepid tea from her mug, knowing she should get on with her packing. It was naughty to be lazy, naughty and nice and something she rarely did. And why not? The Perth heat was intense and there was nothing more refreshing after a day on her feet at the hospital than a cool dip in the pool and then that priceless slot of the day slumbering for an hour in the shade, gorging on colours and the heady scents of the rose garden before Will, her husband, returned from work.

In fact, today she would savour it that little bit more just because she could. Will would be another two hours. She had suspended Lena, her personal trainer, for two weeks over Christmas and whilst she was away skiing. The break, she envisaged, would give her time to decide if she should actually continue. Although the sessions had produced a body she had always yearned for, it had been gruelling these last few months, so she deserved a treat.

The pile of ironing in the laundry room could lounge for another half hour despite the fact she couldn’t wait to seal up her travel bags and be on her way to Europe. So far from Australia, and so much cooler this time of year, but she took comfort and warmth knowing that she would very soon be with Mai, one of her twin daughters, for Christmas Day. Mai was staying with Kim’s friend and former colleague, Tandy, in her home by Lake Geneva. After that Kim would meet up with her besties – Ginny, Cathy, Lou and Angie – for a whole week together. And skiing.

The skiing was irrelevant. An excuse. It was time with her old buddies that her heart yearned for. Since the twins left, a wound had opened up inside her. Kim indulged herself among the roses. Her home served as a place for sleeping, eating, storing belongings and washing clothes. Although beautiful, with every consumable imaginable, its heart had been ripped out when Avril and Mai flew off to study in Europe four years ago. It only came alive every Christmas.

After her friend Ginny lost her husband Mike, Ginny had come to stay a month and they spent hours chatting and consuming buckets of wine in the rose garden – Kim’s refuge.

Waking from her reverie, Kim entered the building she called home and, as usual, checked the security cameras before climbing the stairs to shower. The gates were secured and there was nothing signalling alarm. After showering, she towelled herself dry and applied a heavy dose of Nivea to soak into her skin, then slipped on a summer shirt and headed back down to the laundry room. Sticking out her tongue at the pile in the basket, she pulled out the ironing board from its cupboard, followed by the iron. Turning the dial to cool, she briefly ran the iron over the new ski-wear she had collected over the last few months. She had washed fleeces, T-shirts, thermals and jeans. Then she realised what a waste of time it all was – they didn’t need ironing. As she looked up at the clock, she heard the rattle of Will’s keys.

‘Have a good day, love?’ she asked noticing beads of sweat bubbling on his skin as he slapped his laptop case onto the worktop close to her. He’d only walked from the car.

‘Nah, not the best.’

‘I don’t know why you didn’t book a flight and come with me to Switzerland. Or London at least – spend Christmas with Avril.’

Will rolled his eyes. ‘She won’t want me there; she’s all loved up. Anyway, odds on they’ll be spending Crimbo with his folks.’

‘You think? She hasn’t said.’ Kim creased her eyebrows, anticipating more information.

Will shrugged, smoothing his greying hair with his fingers. ‘Well, I’m flat out over the holidays so it ain’t gonna happen. Besides, you’ll be with your friends and I know that means a lot to you.’ He kissed the back of her neck as if knowing it should soothe any tension about the subject. She had given up trying to persuade him to retire and move back to England. It only upset him and caused rows. He wasn’t ready to give up his specialised work with the oncology team in Perth, and understandably so; they were making great headway treating, even curing women with breast cancer. Plans were now in place to set up a one-stop care centre over the next two years. She knew he couldn’t bear to abandon the team.

Kim placed the iron down on its safety grid, turning to Will. As she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, his arms slid around her waist whilst he leaned down to kiss a short tuft of her hair.

His lips brushed hers. ‘I must be crazy to let such a beautiful woman out of my sight for twelve days.’ He took a step back and eyed her naked body beneath the thin linen shirt. ‘Look at you. Girls in their twenties are less lean and toned. God, I wanna eat you!’ He pulled her close again and Kim instantly felt his arousal.

‘I have things to do and you need a shower,’ she said, freeing herself from his embrace.

‘All the trouble you go to so that you can ski and see your friends and you can’t spare me half an hour of your time.’

Kim sighed, blinking hard, then peering up at him, she said, ‘Go, shower and I’ll be up in five. God, why don’t men have a menopause and lose their drive? You owe me.’

Will smiled and gave her a squeeze. ‘Aw, come on, I don’t make that many demands.’

Kim tightened her lips, staring at his hand. ‘I know, but …’ She paused. ‘Never mind, no you don’t,’ she said softly, when what she really wanted to say was: Be warned. I’m going to be notching up enough credit so that you honour my desires, my yearning to move back to England. But it would have no effect. Will had made his view very clear, so it would only create an argument.

‘Besides, you’re not going to see me for nearly two weeks.’ He headed for the hall stairs. ‘I’ll be washed and waiting.’

Switching off the iron, Kim rubbed her forehead. She would never stop loving her husband, but she found herself immensely irritated with his reluctance to discuss their future. The last time she approached him about it, they rowed and didn’t speak for days, and since then she’d lost the courage to broach the subject, allowing the issue to fester inside her for fear of upsetting him.

At times her life was an island, floating in a vast and desolate sea. Yes, Will was her dream husband, but he could be stubborn as a mule. Not that she would have noticed it as a young nurse. She was blinded to his faults and blown away when the handsome Dr Will Anderson flirted with her. She’d almost exploded when he had asked her to be his plus-one at the Hospital Christmas Dinner. And, as a partner, he had always been so loving and strong, even through the dark days of their fertility problems. It was that love that kept them strong throughout the long IVF treatments and the longing for a family.

Naturally, there was tension – lots of it at times – but letters to and from her friends had kept her spirits up so she and Will had got through it. And, eventually, the twins had made them complete. Now that the twins had flown the nest and Will was more and more absorbed in his work, she found herself pining. Her only deep friendship since moving to Oz in her mid-twenties was a previous neighbour, Marnie, who nowadays was blessed enough to spend much of her time with her seven grandchildren.

Kim climbed the stairs, aware that Will had probably had his shower. She didn’t find intimacy so easy since the menopause had scared off her libido, but Will was very understanding. He did make an effort to get her in the mood first with his caresses. And the acupuncture she’d had helped. If only he comprehended her other needs as readily. Something to distract her from pining. She lifted her chin as she entered the bedroom, seeing Will towelling his lean body after his shower. Again, she would try her best to push her thoughts to the back of her mind.

Cathy

As efficient as always, Cathy Golding had completed her list of morning chores as well as the last of her packing and sat in her book-bulging study to switch on her laptop. She checked her watch: 8.29. She picked up a brazil nut from a small dish and nibbled on it, well on her way to consuming one half of her daily dose of protein and selenium. Outside the window, the grey winter sky and depleted front garden motivated her to get writing to reach the end of her story. She opened the document entitled ‘Sally’s New Bike’, the summer story she was submitting to a woman’s magazine. After enduring more than thirty years teaching English Literature and Language to girls at the local secondary school, albeit with much commendation and personal satisfaction, Cathy was finally living her dream.

She craned her neck to check she had closed the door. There was only Anthony, her husband, in the house, but he managed to disrupt her more in a morning than a class of thirty twelve-year-olds ever had in a whole day. As it was Christmas Eve, she needed to finish the story ready for posting before her ski trip to Switzerland on Boxing Day with her closest friends.

Reading the last two paragraphs, Cathy then read the notes underneath and began typing. Each day, before closing a document, she had formed the habit of adding a few brief sentences so that she could instantly pick up the thread next time. And, she found it was always good to note her ideas down, even if a better idea came along later – which they often did. She tapped swiftly on her keyboard, only pausing here and there for thought, but no sooner was she in the zone than she heard the familiar drum of Anthony’s slippers on the floorboards outside, then the clack of the handle on the study door. Anthony was never subtle.