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CHAPTER
EXTRACT
Legend
of the Snow Gums
There
is a legend that if two people kiss beneath the snowgums, arms entwined
under branches heavy with snow, the love that results is more potent and
more passionate than any other on the face of the earth.
Yet in adversity that love can freeze over in an instant, like the
crystal clear icicles that hang from the snow gum’s branches, or melt
into nothing with the coming of the spring warmth.
To be kissed beneath the snow gums is to receive love at its most
pure and its most devilish where only immeasurable sacrifice can bring
peace to the lovers.
PART
ONE
Chapter
One
Seventeen-year-old Kylie Harris knew she didn’t really have time to
ski the slalom course before the school bus that crisp Friday morning.
She also knew that if her mother found out she was risking being
late for one of her final year trial exams, she would almost certainly be
banned from competing in the downhill race for the Lyrebird Cup tomorrow,
a race she desperately wanted to win. But in her mind she had no choice. Three times now, she had fallen on Murphy’s Turn, the last
steep bend of the course. All
she needed was a couple more goes at it.
The sun was just peeping over the snow capped ridges of Victoria’s
Snowy Mountains, as she crept out of the drying room, Sunburst Lodge, and
onto the snow, clutching her skis and stocks and school bag.
Shivering, she zipped up her purple and white ski jacket, a
hand-me-down from her elder sister Gwyneth. She adjusted the tight fitting
ski pants she had saved six months to buy and which her mother heartily
disapproved of and crunched quietly down the road.
Heart pounding guiltily, she stepped into her skis and pulled on
her gloves. She pulled
the head band around her wild, flaming red hair and slung her school bag
over one shoulder, glancimg quickly behind her to check the house was
still sleeping. Grabbing her
poles she pushed off towards the express quad chair lift that would take
her up to Koala Bowl and the slalom course.
Kylie had stepped into her first pair of skies when she was two,
staggering behind her five year old sister down the nursery slopes, it was
not until Geoff and Susan Harris bought Sunburst Lodge in the heart of
Lyrebird Falls ski resort eight years ago that Kylie’s passion for
skiing really started to blossom. Encouraged by her parents, both good
skiers themselves, she discovered she was a natural and she quickly
started winning trophies. The prestigious Lyrebird Cup was the only junior
trophy in the district she hadn’t won. This year was Kylie’s last
chance to compete and she was convinced that if she could add this
internationally recognised award to her collection, she had a far greater
chance of being accepted into one of the overseas ski hire clinics.
She intended to apply as soon as she could afford the airfare.
For passionate, uninhibited, Kylie, the Lyrebird Cup was the start
of her dream to become a ski instructor to the rich and famous.
By the time Kylie had covered the distance between Sunburst Lodge and
the chairlift, she had
convinced herself if the
worst happened and she missed the bus she could get around her dad. Not
only had she inherited his adventurous spirit and fearlessness on the
slopes, she knew how proud he was of her skiing achievements and that he
understood how much winning the Lyrebird Cup meant to her.
She had also learned from him that there were times in life when
you took risks. This was one of those times. Besides, her mother was far
too occupied organising Gwyneth’s wedding to take her usual notice of
Kylie’s activites. Last
night there had been talk of nothing else, her dad trying to work out how
they were going to accommodate all the cars, while Gwyn and Susan went
over and over the plans with such controlled precision and boring detail
that Kylie had wanted to scream out ‘What happened to romance and
fun!’ But she had kept quiet partly because she wanted her sister to be
happy and partly because she was hoping that they would all stay up so
late, immersed in the wedding they would be too tired to hear her slink
off before school. Kylie had been right about slinking off.
There had been no sign of movement as she had slipped past her
parent’s bedroom door this morning.
Tom Wickham, the resort engineer was already on his daily rounds
checking the chairlifts for ice and any mechanical problems.
He greeted Kylie with a cheery grin. ‘Bit early for the milk
run.’ he laughed.
‘I know. I was hoping…please Tom, can I get an earlier ride?
I wanted to have another goes at the slalom course and I don’t
know if I can make it this afternoon, with exams and everything.’
She turned her melting green eyes on Tom.
Tom thought for a moment. ‘Go on then.’ he smiled. He radioed to his
mate at the top of the slope, then pressed the button and the chairs
slowly ground into motion. ‘Just you be careful up there today,
there’s still quiet a bit of ice about,’
‘You’re tops!’ grinned Kylie. Quickly she slid her bag off her
shoulder and handed it to Tom with a grateful smile. She skied through the
automatic bars and onto the quad chair. ‘I’ll love you for ever.’
she shouted, pulling the safety bar down in front of her.
Kylie’s mood changed from guilt to excitement as the chair sped her up
the mountainside. She glanced at her watch.
It’d take her ten minutes to get to the top, if she went flat out
she’d just have time for two runs and still make it to the bus. She
looked around her, as always filled with awe at the beauty of the
snowfields. Behind and above
her stood the main restaurant of Lyrebird Falls, the ski racks empty, the
buildings silent. Beneath her
and to either side, clouded in a faint mist, stunted gumtrees lined the
wide pistes, a faint dusting of snow on their frosted branches. The sent
long shadowy blue fingers across the pristine, groomed slopes which were
broken by the occasional rock starting to show through.
Snowmakers dotted the bottom of the slope, ready to spew out snow
with the flick of a switch. Kylie’s eyes glowed with delight as the quad
chair reached the peak; here the snow tinged a pinky gold by the early
morning sun. This was the magic of Lyrebird the empty world, the crisp
breeze stinging her cheeks, the challenge of the slopes.
Kylie adjusted her sunglasses then skied across to Koala Bowl and the
top of the slalom course. Sheltered from the wind, with the sun on the
slope for most of the day, the run was both delightful and challenging,
with sheltered spots that could get icy as soft snow refroze.
Today it was groomed to perfection but the freezing overnight
temperatures had left a hard crusty surface and icy patches.
A young man clad in the purple and green resort ski gear was
placing the slalom poles in position. He waved to her. Kylie waved backand
then skied across to the start gate, a built up mound of snow.
Perched on the steep slope she glancing down the mountain and her
heart starting to pound. She set her watch and pushed off.
Knees bent, skis parallel she zigzagged down the slope, carving the
first tracks of the day. The cold wind brushed her cheeks and made her
eyes water. She sped up, digging her ski edges in harder as she went,
exulting in the pure rhythmic freedom.
The first two corners were easy, the snow crisp
and firm under her skis, At the next turn she almost lost her balance as
her skis slipped over ice. Jolted, she took the next bit slightly more
slowly, then covered a steep but fairly easy run across a wider piste,
slid comfortably round the next curve and headed towards Murphy’s turn.
Her stomach muscles tightened as she neared the dreaded spot.
Forcing herself to relax she rapidly recited her instructions to
herself, shifting her weight, bending her knees.
She was almost round. Heart pounding, totally focussed, she felt a
rush of exhilaration. She was
going to do it! Just as she thought she was clear, her outside ski slipped
and she lost her balance. She toppled sideways and slewed round on the icy
surface, losing her left ski as she slid and skidded downhill at an
alarming rate. Frantically she tried to grab onto snow, the side of the
track, anything, her gloved hands grasping and scrabbling as she slid
faster and faster down the slope. Her
other ski was wrenched from her boot, her poles snatched from her wrists
as she fell.
.
©
Simon
&Schuster Australia
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