Back up on the glacier, the search was going slowly. At first light, the teams had traveled up the mountain on a train laid on especially for them, and had reassembled at the Montenvers Hotel, overlooking the Mer de Glace. The dogs had been tied up outside in the driving snow whilst the men crowded into the hotel’s restaurant for a briefing. They had been told the plan was to walk to the base of the Charpoua Glacier where it joined the Mer de Glace, then to spread out along its width and to climb, searching as they went.
By mid morning, they had managed to cover the first hundred yards or so of the Charpoua Glacier, but in near whiteout conditions. The men moved slowly up the steep ice, one step at a time, gently probing the snow filled crevasses with long poles whilst the dogs sniffed and snuffled around them on the ends of their leads.
The search was being hampered here and there by the recent avalanches, which had deposited huge mounds of snow on the glacier. The men had to probe through each mound carefully, sinking long poles down through the snow until they hit the solid ice of the glacier. It was slow and dangerous work.
Someone from the radio station in Chamonix had tipped the rest of the media off about the search, and a growing band of journalists, including a camera team from one of the national television companies, had invaded the Montenvers railway terminus and hotel. There was an air of excitement and expectancy among the ghouls from the press as they crowded around Jacques Batard from the PGHM, who was coordinating the search by radio. Each one, it seemed, was determined to be the first to get photographs or live footage when the body was finally found and brought up off the glacier.
The shopping trip to Nîmes city center was going well. Alice had managed to get toiletries, plenty of underwear, two dresses, two shirts, a jacket, a pair of black jeans, a handbag, some open toed shoes and a pair of black boots. For a few hours, she’d allowed herself to forget her troubles and to enjoy shopping with a man, something she did very rarely.
She kept trying things on in the shops then coming out of the dressing rooms to get his reaction. Sometimes it was a nod of approval, and other times it was a shake of the head. She soon realized that he had an eye for fashion and knew what he liked. She suddenly realized she’d never had this kind of companionship before and couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed herself more
By lunchtime, they were both tired and hungry, so Philippe suggested a bistro he knew called Le Lisita, opposite the huge Roman amphitheater, right in the middle of the city. They sat in the afternoon sun at a table on the sidewalk, from where they could admire the magnificent architecture of the amphitheater. She allowed him to order for her, again, something she hadn’t done for years, and they enjoyed the bistro’s specialty, capon in a delicious white wine and cream sauce. After the meal, they had coffee and Alice sat back in her chair, quietly content.
‘This has been the nicest day I’ve spent in a long time,’ she said with a sigh.
‘For me also,’ Philippe said. ‘What a pity we will soon have to come down to earth and face reality.’
‘Can’t we leave that for now?’ she pleaded, ‘I’d like to pretend for a just little longer.’
‘And just what is it you are pretending?’ he asked softly.
Alice thought for a moment, then looking down at the table she said almost timidly, ‘That this is my real life, here, with you, and that everything that has happened over the last few days has just been a bad dream.’
Philippe reached over and ran his fingertips down her cheek saying slowly, ‘Maybe when the bad dream is over and everything is sorted out, this could be your real life… our real life.’
Alice sat with her head bowed for a few moments longer then looked up, smiling through her tears. ‘If only I was that lucky,’ she said.
They finished their coffee, and after Philippe had paid the bill, set off along Boulevard Victor Hugo to get some last bits and pieces of shopping, before returning to the car.
Later, on the way home, Philippe suggested they stop at the Carrefour hypermarket on the outskirts of the city for some groceries. He parked the BMW, collected a trolley, and they strolled happily through the entrance, chatting about what they would like for dinner. The supermarket was laid out so that the initial point of entry was the electrical section, with rows of television sets and stereo units on display. They had only been in the shop a few seconds when Alice stopped dead, put her hand to her mouth and staring at the bright row of live television sets groaned, ‘Oh my God!’
Philippe followed her line of vision and saw immediately what had caused her reaction. All the televisions were tuned to the same station and were all showing the image of a body, wrapped in a red blanked, strapped to an aluminum stretcher. Half a dozen men wearing climbing gear and helmets were manhandling the stretcher up a steep mountain path in what looked like a blinding snowstorm. The words Live from Chamonix were printed across the top of the screen, and although there was no sound coming from the televisions, they both knew exactly what they were looking at.
Philippe abandoned the trolley in the middle of the isle and ran to the nearest set. Kneeling down and fumbling with the controls, he managed to turn the volume up just in time to hear a commentator say, in a sad, melodramatic voice, ‘So here they come, those brave rescuers who have been scouring the Charpoua Glacier in appalling conditions since dawn this morning. They bring with them the body of a woman, believed to be Alice Webley, the American heiress who went missing while out walking on Monday.’
Philippe’s mouth dropped open and the color drained from his face. ‘They’ve found her,’ he said incredulously, staring at the screen. ‘They’ve found Louisa.’
Alice put her arm around his shoulder and hugged him tightly. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘let’s get out of here.’
Philippe let her lead him to the exit like a zombie, but as soon as they were outside, he broke into a run for the car. He was inside with the engine running before Alice caught up and jumped in beside him. ‘I’ve got to get over there,’ he said as they sped out of the car park. ‘I’ve got to get to Chamonix and claim her body before they release it to your husband.’
‘Slow down a minute,’ Alice said firmly, ‘there’s no rush. I’ll just make a couple of phone calls, tell them it’s not me they’ve found, and once they realize there’s been a mistake they’ll hold on to her until you get there.’
Philippe hit the brakes and pulled the car into the side of the road. ‘No, I can not allow you to do that,’ he said resolutely. ‘It would ruin your reputation and your chances of a fair divorce. I will go to Chamonix and claim Louisa’s body without bringing you into it. Then we will decide together what to do to get you free of your husband.’
‘I don’t give a damn about my reputation,’ Alice started vehemently, ‘This is more important than…’
Philippe held his hand up cutting her off. ‘No, my mind is made up. I am going to drop you at the house where you will promise me not to make any telephone calls. Then I am going directly to Chamonix.’