London Love Story

Chapter 1.

Author's note: The following 3 chapters are the actual chapters that appear in the published book on Amazon. These intro chapters will give you a good idea of the style of the finished book. To read the full book you will have to go to your book retailer such as Amazon.

Ten Years Ago

The mountains are beautiful, especially in winter, thought Harry as he glided on his skis across the virgin snow. For his last run of the day, he'd chosen to take a detour from the prepared, manicured slopes, away from other skiers, to be on his own. But he came to a sudden stop three yards from a set of tracks in the snow. As the late-afternoon sun turned to dusk, he could see another skier had recently been there before him.

The sight was odd; somebody else's tracks went across and downwards from right to left. Whoever had skied at right angles to Harry's route had taken a big risk, a risk that even he, with all his experience, wouldn't take. Only a nutter would go in that direction to the left, off-piste, downhill into a hellhole of deep snow.

He gazed down the slope, noting the technique the idiot had displayed, the obvious jump turns from side to side to slow the speed of descent in the soft snow and remain in control. Perfect. But Harry knew the angle of the tracks led down into a steep bowl from which there wasn't any way out.

The sun was about to set behind the high mountain range of the French Alps, making it more difficult to ski, to gauge the undulating terrain. Harry stood still, poised to continue his planned route back to his apartment. In the village at the bottom of the mountain, he would alert the French authorities, and they could decide what to do—how to find the crazy lone skier.

At that moment, the distant hum of the telecabine, the main ski lift, stopped, a signal for the end of the day; no further lifts up the mountain were possible. All the skiers would be halfway home by now. An eerie silence sat on the mountain, snuffing out all sound, but the same question kept crowding Harry's mind: Why would a skier, alone, at the end of the day, go down into that snow bowl?

Harry weighed the risks of following the tracks into the deep shade below him to check if anyone might be there. Nobody could ski out of the bowl. The only way out was to climb back to where he now stood. As the sun edged behind the mountain, a cold breeze came from the west. Some bad weather looked likely; the heavy grey clouds indicated it would soon start snowing. These tracks would be covered, and all traces would disappear. He cupped his hands to yell into the gloom below him. 'Hello! Anyone there? Hello!'

He called again. Nothing came back.

He knew that if he followed the tracks down, taking his skis off to climb out again would be a disaster. His heavy boots would weigh him down; he'd be up to his waist in deep snow. The only way back would be to keep his skis clipped to his boots to sidestep his way up and out of the bowl, an exercise that would sap the strength of the fittest person. Harry was fit enough to do it, but was the other person?

All his senses were focused on listening for sound. There was no sound.

*

Corinne thought back in desperation. The tip of her right ski had hit a boulder hidden just beneath the snow, and she'd somersaulted into a rock as both her skis came off.

When she sat up, the pain in her fractured leg hit home. She moaned in agony. Deep breathing helped to calm her nerves as she felt for her mobile. It wasn't there in the usual place inside her jacket. She recalled having phoned her parents before she went off-piste and how, in her haste, she had shoved the mobile into her back trouser pocket. She figured the phone must have been dislodged in the crash.

The tears came quickly, followed by a number of French swear words, before she knelt in the snow on her good leg and desperately looked for her phone. Meanwhile, she started shouting for help. The solitude, the carpet of silence, became frightening. In the gloom, it felt impossible to see how she could get out. She realised her mistake in taking this route off the marked run by herself. Pain shot from her right leg below the knee. Another panicked search for her phone confirmed it must have been buried in the snow as she fell. It took all her mental strength to maintain a positive outlook. The consequences of having no phone, being injured, and freezing temperatures could be dire.