Page 39 of The Chalet Girl

Tiago, wearing a suit, looked surprisingly sharp compared to the boy who laconically ate an apple on her boss’s kitchen counter.

‘Good morning,’ Emme said, as she approached the front desk. The reception area was empty. Norah Jones oozed out of hidden speakers.

‘Hey, how’s it going?’ Tiago asked with tired, smiley eyes.

‘Good thanks– it’s quiet here!’

‘Most of the guests are skiing already, good dump last night,’ he said, as he rubbed his eyes. They chatted for a few minutes about Tiago nearing the end of his shift.

A colleague of Tiago’s walked past in a neat uniform.

‘Good morning,’ she said in English with a French accent.

‘Good morning,’ he smiled back.

‘So you’ve come for the spa, miss?’ Tiago asked with a wink.

‘Oh …’

Emme looked around. Rule seven: no spa-ing while on duty. Was she technically on duty while the kids were at school?

‘Erm, I don’t have a bathing costume,’ she whispered.

‘Well that doesn’t matter,’ Tiago answered with a wry smile. ‘There’s an over sixteens area. Attire not necessary.’

Emme blushed.

Tiago waved his arm.

‘Just kidding. The Germans like that space the best. We have a little gift shop through there, selling swimwear. If you want to choose something?’

Emme panicked about the price and Tiago, reading her mind, gave a brief shake of his head before his colleague,wearing a name brooch that said Magali, joined him behind the desk. Magali familiarised herself with the computer and looked at the handover notes.

Tiago widened his eyes encouragingly, as if to saythis is your last chance,my shift ends soon.

‘Well, I do have a few hours and I did really want to use the spa today…’

Tiago outstretched his arm.

‘Of course. Come with me.’

He walked round the desk and led the way to the gift shop, pushing an olive hand through glossy black curls, leaving his hair sticking upwards. Inside, a prim woman was unpacking stock.

‘Jessica, Miss Emme is going to choose a bikini, I’ll charge it to her room.’

The woman nodded as she placed cuddly marmots, each holding a Swiss flag, onto a shelf. Emme looked along a rack of bikinis for sizes that might fit.

Shit.

A mink bikini cost 2,000 Swiss francs, which would be almost that in sterling. She slid it along and looked for something cheaper, something more practical.

She flew through the rack, worried that if she took too long, Tiago might be rumbled.

‘Just bring it to the front desk when you’re ready, and I’ll get your towel, robe and locker key,’ he said, with a nod and a small bow.

Emme smiled gratefully and looked at the swimwear, all high cut, string ties and tiny triangles, and settled on a silver metallic one. It was still 300 Swiss francs, but was the cheapest in her size.

She motioned to Jessica that she was taking it, who nodded and said, ‘Have a nice day,’ in an American accent. Clearly Jessica trusted Tiago too. Or did they all do it?