A Twist in the Tale

“Patrick Travers. I saw him at the bar last night. I didn’t mention it to you because I know you don’t care for him.”

“But why Travers?” I asked nervously.

“Doesn’t he always claim he’s the first on the slope every morning? Even beats the instructors up to the top.”

“Does he?” I said.

“You must remember. We were going up for the first time the day we met him when he was already on his third run.”

“Was he?”

“You are being dim this morning, Edward. Did you get out of bed on the wrong side?” she asked, laughing.

I didn’t reply.

“Well, I only hope it is Travers,” Caroline added, sipping her coffee. “I never did like the man.”

“Why not?” I asked somewhat taken back.

“He once made a pass at me,” she said casually.

I stared across at her, unable to speak.

“Aren’t you going to ask what happened?”

“I’m so stunned I don’t know what to say,” I replied.

“He was all over me at the gallery that night and then invited me out to lunch after we had dinner with him. I told him to get lost,” Caroline said. She touched me gently on the hand. “I’ve never mentioned it to you before because I thought it might have been the reason he returned the Vuillard, and that only made me feel guilty.”

“But it’s me who should feel guilty,” I said, fumbling with a piece of toast.

“Oh, no, darling, you’re not guilty of anything. In any case, if I ever decided to be unfaithful it wouldn’t be with a lounge lizard like that. Good heavens no. Diana had already warned me what to expect from him. Not my style at all.”

I sat there thinking of Travers on his way to a morgue or, even worse, still buried under the snow, knowing there was nothing I could do about it.

“You know, I think the time really has come for you to tackle the A-slope,” Caroline said as we finished breakfast. “Your skiing has improved beyond words.”

“Yes,” I replied, more than a little preoccupied.

I hardly spoke another word as we made our way together to the foot of the mountain.

“Are you all right, darling?” Caroline asked as we traveled up on the lift side by side.

“Fine,” I said, unable to look down into the ravine as we reached the highest point. Was Travers still down there, or already in the morgue?

“Stop looking like a frightened child. After all the work you’ve put in this week I know you’re more than ready to join me,” she said reassuringly.

I smiled weakly. When we reached the top, I jumped off the ski lift just a moment too early, and knew immediately I took my second step that I had sprained an ankle.

I received no sympathy from Caroline. She was convinced I was putting it on in order to avoid attempting the advanced run. She swept past me and sped on down the mountain while I returned in ignominy via the lift. When I reached the bottom I glanced toward the engineer but he didn’t give me a second look. I hobbled over to the first aid post and checked in. Caroline joined me a few minutes later.

I explained to her that the duty orderly thought it might be a fracture and it had been suggested I report to the hospital immediately.

Caroline frowned, removed her skies and went off to find a taxi to take us to the hospital. It wasn’t a long journey but it was one the taxi driver evidently had done many times before from the way he took the slippery bends.

“I ought to be able to dine out on this for about a year,” Caroline promised me as we entered the double doors of the hospital.

“Would you be kind enough to wait outside, madam?” asked a male orderly as I was ushered into the X-ray room.