I went on a ski-ing holiday in Austria and never put on a pair of skis, a snowboard, a sledge or used any snow sports equipment.
The ski-train was great. Everyone was happy and excited and discussing snow conditions, previous holidays, what they had done last year and meeting friends that they only saw on holidays.
We had hired a whole chalet for two weeks. I had felt slightly unhappy because I was going on my own and everyone else were in man/woman pairs. When we booked the holiday my then girlfriend had just announced that she was taking a year out to travel and she might look me up when and/or if she came back. I had driven her to the airport in early September.
She sent me two postcards and one email that month. I had sent two or three emails a week but stopped after Christmas when she didn’t reply. Now it was January so I assumed I was an ex-boyfriend. I knew she was still alive, well and travelling because I met her parents frequently. She was keeping in touch with them.
The atmosphere in the ski-train made up for the mild depression I had felt during a girlfriend-less Christmas. We were in Austria before I expected because I had been enjoying myself so much. We changed to a local train. The scenery in the weak winter sunlight was like the picture postcards. We seemed to be dwarfed by the glistening white mountains around us. When we reached the resort we hired several taxis to take us to the chalet. We could have walked but not with all the baggage and equipment.
Getting out of the taxi I tripped over someone’s skis. I had my travelling shoes on which are not designed for walking on rutted ice. I put my left foot out to recover my balance and it slipped under me. I landed hard and yelled in pain. A woman caught my arm as I tried to stand. Even with her help I had difficulty. My face was pressed against her apron and flared skirt while she put her hands under my arms and lifted. I couldn’t put my left foot down and hobbled into the chalet with my arm round her shoulder.
My friends seemed to think it was funny. I didn’t. I was in pain and already panicking. The woman helped me to sit on an upright chair in the office. That was the first time I saw her properly. She was blonde, tanned and wearing the dirndl dress of wide skirt, apron, blouse and small bodice laced below her breasts. She looked and felt very strong but not like a female bodybuilder, more like a track athlete.
“How is your leg?” she asked in German with an Austrian accent.
“I think I have sprained my ankle and wrenched my knee. I might have broken the ankle.” I replied in German as well. From now on I won’t bother to say when we are speaking in German.
“Can I look?” she asked, “I know first aid and I am used to ski injuries.”
“Go ahead, please,” I said.
She knelt before me and looked at my ankle before touching. Her touch was gentle but probing. I winced.
“I’m sorry. You have broken your ankle. You will have to go the doctors’ surgery. I will take you as soon as everyone is settled in. Please stay there and don’t move. I won’t be long.”
Another woman also wearing dirndl was sorting our group out but having problems with so many at once. The two of them allocated rooms, explained the safety rules and told us that dinner would be served in an hour. I sat still. I had been told not to move in the tone of voice that doesn’t expect to be disobeyed.
I looked around the office. There was a large safe in one corner, a desk under a hatch that opened to the foyer, and another desk that I was sitting beside. On this desk was a computer, printer, scanner and a separate fax machine. I could feel my fingers itch to get at the computer’s keyboard. This holiday had been intended as a break from hours at a computer but I wouldn’t be going skiing for days or perhaps the whole two weeks.
The two women were in and out of the office putting my friends’ passports and valuables in the safe. It had numbered drawers, once for each room, that locked separately.
The first woman came back when people had dispersed.
“Hello again, I’m Trudi. You must be Danny.”
“Hello Trudi. Yes, I’m Danny. A very irritated Danny because I think I won’t be going skiing but I’m pleased to meet you. Thank you for picking me up. I think my friends would have left me on the ground.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Danny. Gretel and I are here to help you have a good holiday.”
I grimaced as I tried to lift my left leg.
“I think you will see too much of me. I will be stuck in the chalet all the time.”
“We’ll see about that. Are you ready to go to the doctor’s?”
“Yes. I would like to know what is broken and have it fixed if possible.”
“Would you like to put your passport and travellers’ cheques in the safe first?
“Yes, Trudi.”
I extracted them from my inner zipped pocket and handed them over. She put them in the safe, locked the drawer, shut the safe and twirled the combination dial randomly.
“Are you ready, Danny?”
“I think so, Trudi.”
“OK. Lean on me.”
I needed Trudi’s support to stand up. We shuffled out of the chalet. Her car was outside. I thought she was taking me to the wrong side of the car until I remembered that the driver is on the other side in Austria.
Getting my leg into the car was difficult and it hurt. I was biting my lip and in a cold sweat before it was done. The drive to the doctors was about half a kilometre. Getting out was worse. My only consolation was that I was held against a very pleasantly perfumed and nicely developed body. Even through my pain and her thick jacket Trudi’s breasts had an impact.
The doctor took an X-ray and confirmed Trudi’s diagnosis. I had torn the ligaments in my left knee and broken the ankle. His nurse set the ankle in plaster to his directions. He prescribed a strong painkiller and gave me enough to last until Monday. I should rest the knee as much as possible for a few days. They complimented me on my fluent German. I even swore in German when he manipulated the ankle. Trudi and the nurse put me back in the car for the short drive back to the chalet.
“I’ve changed your room,” Trudi announced as she started the car. “You are on the ground floor next to my room and opposite Gretel’s. The staff bathroom is beside her room. You will use it because you won’t want to climb the stairs for a day or so. The room isn’t as large as the one you should have had, it doesn’t have the view, but you should be comfortable.”
“Thank you, Trudi. That was thoughtful of you.”
“We are used to it. We have had several guests break something so there are always two small rooms free on the ground floor just in case. If you need anything or you can’t get out of bed there is a bell push to summon one of us. Please only use it when you have to. Gretel and I will be very busy.”
“I will try not to be a nuisance, Trudi.”
We were back at the chalet. Trudi heaved me out of the car. Now that the ankle was supported and immobile only the knee was given me pain. This time I was very aware of Trudi’s breasts against me.
She helped me into the room and took off my coat.
“Can you manage now? There are some crutches.”
I turned my head. A pair of crutches was propped against the bed.
“Yes, thank you Trudi. I will cope.”
Once she had gone I regretted that. Unpacking my suitcase and putting the contents away was a real effort. I took a painkiller washed down with water.
I heard the bell ring for the evening meal. I took the crutches and heaved myself to my feet. I had used crutches before after a rugby injury so I soon got the knack but the pain was coming through. Ironic cheers greeted my entry to the dining room. I wouldn’t get much sympathy from my friends. I didn’t. They teased me for breaking my ankle before I’d even put a ski on.
Trudi and Gretel served the evening meal. If all the meals were to be of that standard I would have to watch my intake. I could gain pounds in a fortnight while unable to exercise.
After the meal my friends sat around the log fire drinking gluwein. I needed the bathroom so I set off down the corridor towards the staff bathroom. Trudi caught up with me just beyond the door that separates the office from the staff area.
“Where are you going, Danny?”
“To the toilet,” I said curtly. I was embarrassed to admit it and not sure how I’d cope.
“You need help.”
