One by One(100)

Slightly to my surprise, Danny shakes his head.

“Nah. I’m… well, I’m actually gonna go out. For a drink.”

“With who?” I’m surprised. I’m even more surprised when Danny blushes.

“Eric. Landlady’s son. He runs the bar up the road, you know, the one with the brass counter on the corner, the Petit Coin? Said… you know. ‘Come in for a drink after supper.’?”

“Danny!” I can’t stop a smile spreading across my face. “That’s awesome. Is he… ?”

Danny raises one eyebrow, drawing out the silence, making me blush, and then he puts me out of my discomfort.

“If you mean, does he like pi?a coladas, sources say yes.”

“Ha. Well. Go you.”

“You sure? I mean, you could come…” He trails off, but I’m laughing and shaking my head.

“No. No, thanks. No pi?a coladas for me, I’m going to have an early night.”

“Okay. Good plan, Batman.” He pauses, but he still doesn’t leave. He just stands there, frowning down at his feet, tracing a pattern on the lurid carpet with his toe. “Fucking weird, wasn’t it?”

“All the stuff with the film? Yeah. What do you think they’ll do?”

“Fuck knows. I’ve been wondering if we should go to the police ourselves, but I dunno if there’s much point.”

I’ve been wondering the same thing, but I don’t have any answers either, and in the end I just shrug.

Danny turns as if he’s about to go, and I’m just about to close the door when he swings back as if he’s thought better of something. He leans in, and I think he’s going to whisper something in my ear, but instead, rather sweetly, and to my surprise, he gives me a kiss. His lips are full and soft against my cheekbone.

“Love you, mate,” he says. I put my arms around him, and squeeze.

“Love you too, Danny. Now go. You’ve got pi?a coladas waiting.”





ERIN


Snoop ID: LITTLEMY

Listening to: Carole King / Tapestry

Snoopers: 28

Snoopscribers: 345

It’s just over three weeks later, and I’m sitting by the fire in the chalet, staring out of the tall window that overlooks the valley, listening to music and not thinking about anything in particular.

It’s still strange being in the chalet without working. Both Danny and I are still employed, technically, but I don’t know how much longer that can go on. After Perce-Neige was declared an official crime scene, its photo smeared all over the newspapers in half a dozen countries, it became very clear that even if the avalanche damage was repaired, it wasn’t going to be possible to use it for a holiday destination for this season at least.

The remaining bookings for the year have been either cancelled, or hastily reallocated to the other properties owned by the skiing company, and now Danny and I are simply waiting to find out what will happen, pacing the empty rooms, looking at the place where Ani last sat, seeing Elliot’s ghost, spooning stew into his mouth, hearing the click-click-click of Eva’s heels on the parquet, and the slam of Liz’s bedroom door.

I can’t stay in this place. I know that now. But I can’t keep running.

The smells from the kitchen are making my stomach rumble, and I’m just thinking about heaving myself out of my chair and clumping through to ask Danny what time he will be serving up, when my Snoop stream goes dead. For a minute I’m not sure what’s happened. I wasn’t snooping on anyone else, so the feed shouldn’t cut out like that. It was my music.

I open up my phone to check on the app, but that’s when I notice. There’s an email notification. And it’s from Kate. The subject line is Some difficult news. My stomach gives a lurching jolt.

“Danny,” I shout, over the sound of pots and pans from the kitchen. There’s no reply, and I am about to get up and walk through to show him the notification when he appears in the doorway, holding his own phone.

“Did you get it too?” he asks, and I nod my head.

“Yeah. I think we’re both cc’d in. What does it say?”

“Open it and find out.”

My gut is churning as I open the email and scan down the contents. Difficult decision… not practical to reopen… eventual sale… sick pay… generous redundancy packages… four weeks’ notice.

“They’re closing the chalet.” I look up at Danny.

He nods solemnly.

“Yup. That’s about the size of it. Have to say, I’m not exactly surprised, what plonker’s gonna want to stay in a place where four guests got killed? I mean, it’s not exactly home sweet home, is it, even if you take the banjaxed swimming pool out of the equation. What are you gonna do?”

“What am I going to do?” I stare back at him. It’s stupid, because I’ve had three weeks to figure this out, but I’m no closer to deciding. Would I come back to work? Did I want to? Now it’s not even a question.

“I don’t know,” I say at last. “What about you?”

“We could sue, you know,” Danny says conversationally. “I mean, quote unquote generous redundancy package is all very well, but you were bloody near killed in the line of duty. I reckon that deserves something a bit more than a few weeks’ pay and a box of fucking chocs.”