Season of Desire: Complete Edition Read Free Page B

frighten.
    Today, though, there’s nothing to see. The cold steely light already seems to be fading and a freezing fog is swirling up from the valley below. It’s white and grey everywhere, and we can only make out what is immediately around us.
    Oh God, this is awful! We must be travelling at a third of our usual pace. I’ll never make the plane if we carry on like this. And I have to get there!
    I’m clinging on desperately to the hope that if we can just get to the airport, everything will be fine. Anything rather than go back to that house. Even if I can’t get to LA, maybe I’ll be able to track down some friends somewhere else and try and forget everything in parties and dancing and bottles of champagne and all the usual indulgences.
    I lean forward towards the driver and now I can see the side of his face. He’s not like most of our guards, who are usually big beefy men, bursting out of their jackets like Incredible Hulks. This man has sculpted features, and he carries himself with a kind of elegance I don’t usually associate with strength – but he’s certainly strong. I can see from the set of his shoulders and the way he’s holding the steering wheel that he’s tough and muscled. His hair is cropped close to his skull, dappled with silver at the temples and dark brown otherwise.
    I try not to sound as if I’m giving him orders. ‘Listen, I understand that the weather is not something we can control. But please – if you can – please can you try to get to me to the airport?’ I wait. He keeps his eyes fixed on the road and I can see now that he’s holding the wheel very tightly as he steers us around the endless hairpin bends of the mountain path. I notice a muscle twitching in his cheek and for the first time I feel a flicker of anxiety. He’s clearly working hard to keep this car under control. And, I realise, he can’t see the edge of the road with its little barrier, or easily make out the mountainside that usually rears up on the other side. It’s been whited out by snow and fog. All he can do is edge forwards, following the icy tracks directly in front.
    ‘Oh, God,’ I say, as I begin to take in the reality of the conditions out there. Protected in the Mercedes’ warm interior, I’ve been slow to understand what’s actually going on.
    Then he speaks. ‘I’m doing my best, believe me. One thing’s for sure: we won’t be going back up this way again, not for a while at least.’
    He’s right. I feel a little happier. If we can just get down, I can check in at the hotel by the airport until the weather improves. If I’m a day late to LA, it doesn’t matter so much. Jimmy will understand.
    I begin to ask another question, even though I can sense his irritation. ‘How long do you think—’
    Then it happens. I don’t know exactly what starts it. One moment we are moving forward, keeping in the furrows ploughed out ahead of us. The next, everything has changed. It is as though the road below us has turned into glass, and instead of gripping its surface, the tyres begin to slide. The sensation of movement changes completely, as if we’ve just driven onto a frozen lake and are gliding out over it. As we skim over the surface of the road, the car begins to turn of its own accord, apparently unaffected by what the bodyguard is doing with the steering wheel. His knuckles are white with effort, and everything about him shows he’s using all of his strength to attempt to regain control but we’re turning now, the back of the car inexorably wheeling round so that we’ll soon be reversing down the mountain.
    ‘Oh God, what’s happening?’ I shriek, terrified. ‘Turn it back, turn it back!’
    He says nothing but is wrenching the wheel hard into the direction we’re spinning. What good will that do?
    ‘Turn it the other way!’ I cry, adrenalin coursing through me, making my hands tingle and shake while my insides whirl with fear. The car is still turning: we’re spinning slowly