How to Save a Life by S.D. Robertson

Author:S.D. Robertson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2020-03-27T17:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

‘Okay, I’m sitting down. What is it? Please tell me. Are my mum and dad all right?’

‘I, er …’ The faceless, heavily accented voice paused, like he was searching for the right words. I’d already forgotten his name, although he’d said it down the phoneline a moment ago. My mind, consumed by panic and fear, didn’t have space for such things. ‘I am afraid it is very bad news, Mr Craven.’

My heart was in my mouth as he stopped again.

Just say it, I wanted to scream. But I could no longer move, never mind speak. I was rigid with terror.

‘Your parents …’ He repeated their names for some reason, as if I might suddenly shout that he’d got the wrong person and they weren’t my mother and father after all. If only.

And then, finally, he said it – the awful, unimaginable truth – and my coffee cup tumbled, exploded on the floor, as my world teetered on its axis.

‘No! That can’t be true. I don’t accept it. You must be mistaken. Can you check? They can’t both be—’

‘I am so very sorry, Mr Craven, but there is no doubt.’

‘Is there someone else I can speak to? I don’t even know who you are. How do I know this isn’t some kind of—’

‘I can pass you to my superior, should you wish,’ he enunciated slowly, calmly. ‘However, she will only tell you the same thing. Are you alone? Is there a person you can call?’

I wasn’t listening to him any more. My mind was reeling, desperately trying to comprehend the impossible nightmare that had somehow smashed through into real life.

‘How? How the hell? How could this have happened? Please!’

Mum and Dad were keen skiers. The three of us went on a couple of skiing holidays when I was in my teens. As the youngster of the family, I was probably the one people might have expected to develop a passion for winter sports. But it went the other way: I wasn’t especially keen, whereas my parents got hooked.

As their passion for the slopes grew, they started going on annual skiing holidays, visiting numerous popular resorts in France, Italy, Austria and Switzerland. They often tried to tempt me along, despite knowing it wasn’t my bag, arguing that I might view things differently as an adult than I did as a teenager and, if not, I could just enjoy the après-ski.

On the last occasion they went, Dad was on the cusp of turning sixty. The pair of them had really tried to convince Helen and me to join them in their beloved Alps as a one-off to mark the special occasion. However, neither of us had been keen, so we’d politely declined.

It’s a decision I’ve regretted ever since, because neither of them returned alive from that trip. They were both killed in an avalanche while skiing off-piste – and to this day, I’ve never stopped questioning whether the same thing would have happened if we’d joined them.

According to investigators, they’d set off on the morning of the accident with a Danish couple they’d met at the resort.

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