I know that there should be two runs coming off from here. To the left is the black run Topher wants to do, La Sorcière. To the right is the top part of the blue run, Blanche-Neige. They meet at the second station of the bubble lift, but Blanche-Neige takes its time, curving round the mountain in gentle loops. La Sorcière, on the other hand, follows a more direct route, zigzagging down the mountain beneath the bubble lift. Direct is an understatement. We passed over the run in the lift a few minutes ago, and it looked like a sheer sheet of ice, like the side of a hill, even seen from forty feet up in the air.

I push off, wobbling as I clear the ice from my goggles with my mittens. Ahead is a snow-covered sign that might once have been two arrows but is now nothing but an indistinct white lump. To the left there is a kind of tennis-net thing cutting off the access. By the time I see this, I’m sliding towards it.

“Help!” I shout. There is nothing any of the others can do, and I ricochet into the net, feeling its springiness catch me across the middle. I flail for a moment, my poles pinwheeling, and then I teeter ungracefully to the ground in a clatter of skis.

Rik comes sliding across, laughing, and helps me up.

“You were lucky,” he yells in my ear over the shriek of the wind, pointing to the snow-blasted piste fermée sign tacked over the net. “That’s La Sorcière. You could have been skiing your first black if they hadn’t closed the piste! Or worse.”

He is right. Beyond the net is a steep run, dropping almost vertically away. It curves around the mountain and beyond the edge of the curve is… nothing. If I had shot off the edge at speed, there would have been nothing anyone could do. I could have been plummeting to my death in the valley a thousand feet below before anyone had a chance to stop me. The thought of that fall makes my stomach lurch with nerves over what I’m about to do.

I am too out of breath to reply, but I let him haul me to my feet and then guide me back to the others who are standing in a little huddle at the top of the blue piste.

“They’ve closed La Sorcière,” Rik calls across to Topher, who nods bitterly.

“I saw. Fucking pussies.”

“Should we wait?” I hear Miranda shout. Her voice is barely audible beneath the howling of the storm. “It’s fucking freezing!”

“I think we have to,” Rik says. “We can’t go without Ani and Carl, they’re not very experienced.”

“They’ve got the others to babysit them,” Topher grumbles, but Rik shakes his head.

“What if they come up separately and try to follow? Look.” He points down the mountain where a bubble lift is emerging from the clouds, a single figure inside, or maybe two sitting close together. It’s impossible to make out at this distance. It might not even be one of our party. It is so far below that the figure looks absurdly small.

I am shaking. My heart is pounding. I can’t go through with this. But I have to. This might be my last chance—I have to say something. Now. Now.

“I can’t do this,” I force out. Topher looks across at me, as if surprised I’ve spoken.

“What did you say?”

“I can’t do this,” I say louder. I am breathing very fast, and my voice is high and squeaky with a barely contained fear. My pulse is going a mile a minute. “I can’t. I just can’t. I’m not going to ski down. I can’t, Topher.”

“Well, how do you plan to get to the bottom,” Topher says sarcastically. “Toboggan?”

“Hey, hey.” Rik has been trying to consult his phone, but now he looks up. “What’s going on here?”

“I can’t do it,” I say desperately, as if, if I just keep repeating this one phrase, everything will slot into place. Maybe it still will. Maybe it will all be okay. “I can’t. I can’t ski down in this. I’m going to die, I know I will. You can’t make me do it.”

“Liz, it’ll be fine.” Rik puts a hand on my arm. “I’ll take care of you, I promise. Look, you can snowplow all the way down if you want to. I’ll guide you, you can hold my sticks.”

“I. Can’t. Do. It,” I repeat doggedly. If I keep reciting this mantra, it will be okay. They can’t make me ski with them. I know Topher. He’s not a patient man. Very soon he will get pissed off with trying to persuade me and give up.

“Fuck,” Topher says irritably. He wipes the snow from his googles and looks at Rik. “So what, then?”

“Liz—” Rik begins, and I feel that hard thing rise up in my throat, choking me, like it did at the meeting. The bubble with the single figure in it reaches the terminal. I think I am going to be sick. It’s now or never.

“I can’t do it!” I scream, and suddenly, out of nowhere, I am crying. The noise astonishes me—great ugly sobs, racking me. I lift up my goggles to scrub at my eyes with my frozen gloves, and the wind is so cold I can feel the tears running down my nose, freezing as they reach the tip. I swipe away the frozen drops, feeling them crackle against my skin. “I can’t fucking do it!”

“Okay, okay!” Rik says hastily. “Liz, don’t panic, it’ll be fine. Look, we’ll sort this out.”

There is a schussing sound behind us and we turn to see a figure skiing down the slope towards us. It is Inigo, his green jacket unmistakable even with his goggles down and his scarf pulled up. Behind him, Tiger has shuffled out onto the bank immediately outside the lift. She is sitting on the snow, fastening her snowboard bindings.

“I’m going back,” I say, gulping down my sobs. I point down the mountain, where the empty bubble lift Inigo came up in is returning back to the valley. “I’m going to talk to the lift attendant, make him let me back in. I’ll explain I can’t do it, that it’s all been a mistake.”

“Liz, this is fucking ridiculous,” Topher explodes.

“What’s the matter?” Inigo’s voice is muffled from behind his scarf, barely recognizable.

“It’s Liz,” Topher says angrily. “She’s having some kind of existential crisis.”

But I’m not. I’m calm now. There is another bubble lift coming up the mountain, with another figure inside it. I can do this. I know what I need to do, and no one can stop me. I begin to sidestep up the slope.

“Liz,” Rik calls, “are you sure?”

“Yes,” I yell back, though I’m not even certain they can hear me over the wind now. “I’m quite sure. I’ll meet you back at the chalet.”

And as I step inside the terminal building and the bubble lift doors open, a sense of peace enfolds me. I know what I have to do, and it’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.

ERIN

Snoop ID: LITTLEMY

Listening to: Offline

Snoopers: 5

Snoopscribers: 10

It’s nearly half past one. They said they’d be back by one at the latest, and Danny is shouting expletives from the kitchen as the minutes tick past and his risotto clogs.

At one forty-five he sticks his head out the door with a face like thunder, and I shake my head.

“There’s only one thing I hate more than fucking stealth vegans and that’s wankers,” he growls, and disappears, the swing door clacking behind him.