The Ski Lodge

by Nina Manning

Genres: Psychological Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

Don't miss the next spine-tingling thriller from Nina Manning - The Ski Lodge is available to pre-order now!

Release date: January 8, 2026

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 320

Sample

1

JOLIE

‘Gable, please don’t just throw your soggy salopettes on the floor,’ Jolie called after her nine-year-old son as she looked at the trail of water on the wooden floor of the lodge. She cast her eyes across the rest of the space in front of her, the large open-plan sitting area and kitchen, and wished she had asked for a maid to be included in the cost of the holiday. Maid, that’s what they called them up here now. It was nothing like when Jolie was here, working in Cil del món, which was named after the high mountain that made you feel as though you were on top of the world.

Just as his mother had asked him to, Gable trudged back, lifted the soggy trousers from the floor, and took them to the bathroom, where Jolie had put a clothes horse with a huge towel underneath as a makeshift drying station. She didn’t really feel as though she were on holiday, with the constant feeding, tidying up and drying clothes. Gable walked out, and she winked at him. He gave her a wry smile, and Jolie felt her heart expand; her little boy was growing up. Just a year away from double digits and already wavering between trying to be cool in front of his mates and still needing his nightly reading book and cuddles before bed.

Jolie went to the kitchen to prepare a snack for them. They would eat out for dinner again later, as they had every night, but the children would be hungry now after their many hours on the slopes and would need to bridge the gap.

When she had worked here twenty years ago, the maids were called hosts, which sounded a lot more dignified. Jolie had never imagined that two decades would pass and she would return to the same resort where she had worked in her twenties, for two reasons. One: she was a terrible skier and snowboarder, and no matter how many lessons she’d had, she had remained flat on her back, adding further injury to her already incredibly bruised coccyx. The second was far more complicated and involved many poor decisions and painful memories she had attempted to bury, but which of course would surface from time to time. She had hoped when her husband, Idris, dropped it on her that they were heading here as a family on an all-expenses-paid business trip, those memories would stay where she had filed them, that she could somehow keep them from returning, as though the messy experience she’d had here years ago had all been a bad dream, and not a very harsh reality. And she had done well so far. She was enjoying being with her husband and children, albeit only having limited time with Idris; this was a work trip after all, and amongst all the mountain adventure and après-ski, work had to be done.

It had been the thought of what happened here that had distressed her the most and she had never recovered from it. She doubted she ever would. As they had travelled here, Idris had taken her hand during the coach transfer, thinking she was having one of her anxiety attacks that she experienced and managed occasionally, but she had shaken it off as quickly as it arrived, and things had been okay since. She knew she needed to stay strong and focused in front of her family.

Now, in the lodge they had been gifted for the week, she was amongst the same mess she remembered when she had worked as a host. Some mornings she would come to work and gasp at the disorder. It was always unbelievable; it was as if the guests had completely forgotten who they were and had become animals, leaving every little thing in their wake for her to clean up. Jolie did not want her two children to think they could leave their rubbish and mess for someone else to tidy away; come to think of it, she could add her husband to that. When they’d left the mountain today, Idris had gone for a final run with the colleagues who had joined them for the first half of the trip and were leaving the next day. Jolie had brought the children back to the lodge as the weather began to turn. She had hoped that the visceral effect of the claustrophobic weather had not been obvious to her two children. The mountain didn’t give her the same comfort or thrill that it gave others, and when the sky had turned white, she had fought past the memories that had threatened to terrorise her, gathered the children and headed back down to the village where she felt instant comfort from the smell of the log fire and the sight of the red wine. She had detested the mountains the first time, and she was not going to love them this time.

When Jolie had worked here, she preferred shopping or going to a nice bar or café after work. However, this was a free work trip, a little bonus for Idris, and it presented a good opportunity for the children to try skiing for the first time. Many of her and Idris’s friends visited the mountains several times a year. But Jolie had never caught the bug. You had to love the mountains to feel comfort in their presence and she did not love the mountains. And she could feel that they did not love her either.

When Idris told her they would be going to Cil del món, her mind had become a jumble of emotions. Once it sank in, she realised that, of course, one of the most luxurious skiing resorts on the planet was precisely where Idris would be sent for a work retreat to bond with his colleagues and future partners. As Idris was just months away from securing a partner position at his firm, this perk was the company’s way of demonstrating how well he would be looked after once he was in. Depriving him of that would have severe repercussions for his career, and Idris had looked after Jolie too well for her to repay him with such a blow at this stage. The firm was all about ‘the family’; they were included in everything from the Christmas parties to naming some of the newest software they used.

So she had smiled and said that it would be amazing. She had never been skiing before, she told him, a little white lie to make the whole trip that much easier for her. How could she possibly have told him about that time of her life? Jolie barely knew how to deal with the weight of the daily guilt she carried from back then, and there was just no way she would find the words to talk about it with Idris. So here she was, a novice on the slopes. And when she appeared overwhelmed by the sheer size and encompassing feeling of the mountains around her, to her husband, it seemed as if this was the first time she had been here. It had literally taken her breath away to be back here again, to be reminded how much the mountains could make one feel so small and insignificant.

At dinner last night, Idris had put an arm around her and whispered how well she was doing. Idris knew that sometimes life was challenging for Jolie. Of course he didn’t know all the reasons. When he met her, she was on antidepressants. But Idris had breathed life into her otherwise stagnant world. He’d provided her with a home, a place of safety and security, and she had been allowed to come out of herself again, slowly, and the tiny spark that Idris had recognised as the real Jolie had reignited. The death of her father a year into their relationship, then the death of her mother six months after that, was a much-needed cloak that disguised her nerves.

‘Muuuum,’ came seven-year-old Vita’s voice from the bedroom she was sharing with her brother for the duration. She was more than happy to be bunked up with her big buddy.

‘Yeeees,’ Jolie called back.

‘I don’t have anything else to watch.’

Jolie let out a sigh. There was no Wi-Fi in the lodge – a technical issue had prevented them from downloading films. Now Vita had finished her last one.

‘Can you just come out here and have your snack and we’ll do colouring?’ Jolie called again.

‘Yeeesss! Colouring!’ Vita shouted, running in from the bedroom, her damp hair curling in the heat of the chalet. Jolie smiled and pushed a colouring book and pens towards her daughter.

‘We’ll download some more films at the restaurant tonight, yes?’

‘Are we eating at the Italian tonight?’

‘Yes, we are.’

‘Yippee!’ Vita put her hand into a fist and pulled her arm downwards. Jolie laughed inwardly at her daughter’s innocence, not realising how sweet and funny she was, but knowing she hated it when her mother giggled at her.

Jolie had the children bathed and dressed, ready to eat out, when Idris came through the lodge door at six. His hair was wet around the edges, his face ruddy and pink from the fresh air, or perhaps from a cheeky beer on the top of the mountain.

‘The children are starving,’ Jolie whispered as he headed to the bathroom.

‘I’ll have a really quick shower and we’re out of here.’

Vita sat on the stool at the kitchen counter. She and her mother exchanged a glance and both rolled their eyes.

Half an hour later, the children were tucked up at a table, huge white napkins stuffed down their collars, the restaurant buzzing with music from a guitar duo. Jolie had seen the lads a few times, and a gentle reminder returned to her of when she was working in the resort and would come out to Mak’s bar. It was a fond memory of the band that had played out at the bars each night, one she held and cherished. But she knew she couldn’t cling to even one happy memory as everything she knew of here had been tarnished with the same brush of fear and guilt. She had come here the first time, with a purpose: to prove to her parents that she was more than what they thought she was and to build her character, to become stronger. But what had happened in the end had only made her weaker.

Jolie must have been staring intently at the band because Idris’s voice came through her thoughts a little too loudly as though he were repeating himself.

‘Pip and Austin are off tomorrow.’ He leaned in towards her.

‘I know,’ she said, picking up her wine and taking a slow sip.

‘So I was thinking, I might go back with them.’

It sounded to Jolie like a question, yet she knew it wasn’t. Her heart picked up speed. He definitely said ‘I’ and not ‘we’. She swallowed but her throat was dry. He was going to leave her alone here.

‘Go back to London? Tomorrow?’ Jolie said to him, the heat rising through her chest into her cheeks; her mouth was now so dry she took a long glug of water to lubricate her tongue. She had just about managed being back here knowing that Idris was always close by, but if he left, she would be alone and the memories would reach out and grab her. The guilt would resurface; it would be too overwhelming. How would she keep all of that from the children? How would she cope?

‘Yes, it’s the bloody Wi-Fi, Jo. We have this presentation, and I can’t get a thing done. I was hoping I could have worked evenings, but I’ve done nothing.’

‘Except to enjoy your wife’s company,’ she said, arranging the napkin in her lap, trying to add light to the dark that had filled her up.

Idris kissed her gently on the cheek.

‘Of course, there is that, and I have enjoyed it. I don’t want to fall behind; the other two have worked so hard to get us where we are already, and this was supposed to be a half-work and half-leisure trip.’

Jolie nodded. ‘I know.’ The Wi-Fi had failed in multiple areas around the resort and even for those lodges who had it, it had been very up and down. It had been a constant source of frustration; she had seen how it had bothered her husband. At least there was plenty to do to distract Gable and Vita.

‘They think they can switch my flight; Pip’s been talking to Angie.’

An image of the company secretary popped into Jolie’s mind. She was competent and could always deal with any situation at a moment’s notice. Idris worshipped the ground she walked on. Jolie felt the jab of envy towards a woman she barely knew but who’d raised her children by herself after her husband had walked out on them after the birth of their second daughter. She always felt that Idris might compare her incapability to the wonderful ways in which Angie could handle any situation and was always so calm in any crisis. But he never did.

‘Of course she’ll be able to sort it. She always can,’ Jolie said haughtily.

Idris looked at her and blinked slowly. He either pretended he didn’t hear the contempt, or he didn’t suspect that – now and again – she felt as though she were not the most important woman in Idris’s life. Or at the very least, not the most capable. There had been occasional jibes from Jolie in the past about the glamorous woman who practically ran the company and was adored by all. But Angie, who had been in Jolie’s company on a few occasions, had always been incredibly kind and gracious, and of course Jolie had no reason to think she had anything to worry about. Idris had been the one who allowed her to grow again. She knew he wouldn’t ever do anything to crush her, like the limpet he had discovered clinging to the glass of vodka and tonic in the bar that day they met.

‘So you’re okay if I go? The kids are making great progress, coming on leaps and bounds.’

‘They are children, not kids,’ Jolie scolded. It was pathetic, a little bugbear she clung to, and it felt like the right moment to mention it again. She had no other control over the situation. ‘They’re children, Idris, not baby goats.’ It was a phrase she had heard her mother repeat countless times during her childhood. She berated herself for adopting that expression from a woman she had not regarded particularly highly in her youth. Yet, it had stuck, and she found it irritating when people referred to her two beautiful children as ‘kids’.

‘Children,’ Idris dragged the word out to mock her. ‘Listen, it’s only three days without me, and the children will be pro skiers by the time you get home. And the firm will be so happy that you stayed and enjoyed the rest of the trip. They are generous, but they hate waste.’ He rubbed her shoulder, a subtle way to tell her she could do this without him and that she would be okay. But already Jolie felt as though she were tumbling. She couldn’t imagine being here without Idris. What could she do? In Idris’s mind, she had come on leaps and bounds these last few years. But he didn’t know what she kept locked away in the deepest crevices of her mind, the memories that were sure to take their grip once he was gone.

‘I can’t believe we haven’t done this before.’ Idris picked up his wine and knocked it back before leaning in front of Jolie for the bottle and topping up both their glasses. She brought a smile to her lips, and kept it there to appease her husband, hating how he could relax when she was the one who had to continue on here for three more days.

Jolie glanced at her children as their food arrived: two steaming bowls of spaghetti Bolognese. They had raved about it and would no doubt expect the same quality at home; she could already feel the weeks of comparisons any time she cooked it or they ate out at a restaurant. She managed to smile, and now it was genuine. The children were making core memories. Jolie was proud of herself for getting through four days. She made a decision to take away these fond memories of Cil del món and hope they would keep away the dark memories of the past. Because being here would always be marred by the tragedy on the mountain that day. It was one of only a few secrets she kept from her husband. Essentially, it wasn’t a lie – it was just one of those things she had just withheld from him about her past. After all, didn’t everyone have secrets?

2

RONA

Rona stood outside lodge 44. She had just watched the last guests leave and had opened the door to begin airing the rooms. There was a level of expectation with these five-star lodges and guests anticipated having nice things around them when they arrived. That was what Tranquil Lodges stood for and had been drummed into her since she began working here twenty-three years ago. A home-from-home experience for those whose houses resembled boutique hotels. These people had money and paid the highest prices for the most luxurious lodges in the village close to the lifts. Cil del món was a resort located at the highest peak in the Pyrenees mountains, featuring only a few restaurants and hotels in the village. In all of these places, the service was impeccable and the customers were given the five-star treatment.

But Rona hadn’t needed it drummed into her. It was part of her daily mantra to keep things tidy. She was adept at tying up loose ends, especially at a moment’s notice. Always going the extra mile, and never leaving anything out of place. Her aim was to leave a place looking like she had never been there, as though perhaps a mythical brownie creature had come in and done all the work for her and left without a trace.

Rona loved the remote lodges the most, the ones that were only used a few times a year. She enjoyed going out there, feeling the emptiness, letting the nothingness embrace her. She found it quite healing. The way the mountains opened up a little, further up the road, was sometimes exactly where she needed to be to escape the claustrophobia of the village.

It was January and the busiest time of the year. Everyone was getting away after the madness of Christmas. How these people ever had the money to spend after the most expensive time of year was never a mystery to Rona. She was surrounded by wealth every day, and even though she had come from a very different upbringing, her eyes had become accustomed to another way of life. Money was not spoken of here; it was just something that the guests who entered the resort every week had.

She had arrived from Birmingham as a lodge host in 2002 and never went home. After she was promoted to manager, she didn’t have to worry about getting her hands dirty, but she liked to come down and check on the girls from time to time. She had been known to step in and roll her sleeves up when someone called in sick. It had happened a lot, but Rona wasn’t afraid of hard work. Rona was always where she was needed, at the exact time she was needed. To Rona, there was no other way to exist. In the same way the money kept appearing in these rich clients’ bank accounts, Rona kept turning up to work on time.

‘Okay, we’ll take it from here, Rona.’ A girl in a blue polo shirt barged past her into the lodge. Rona looked at her watch.

‘You’re ten minutes late,’ she said as a second girl walked in after her and began hurriedly unloading her caddy. The first girl rolled her eyes whilst the second girl eyed her nervously. Bloody cheek, thought Rona. These girls have no clue, no clue at all about five-star service. They rush through the job and try and get it done as quickly as possible. That hadn’t been the way before Rona was promoted to manager. She took her time, and then checked and double-checked and didn’t leave until every inch of the lodge was perfect.

‘Thanks for stopping by,’ the eye-roll girl said and both girls started laughing.

‘Well, just make sure you get it looking five-star, please. Five-star. Are you familiar with what that means?’ Both girls eyed one another but said nothing.

‘As I thought,’ Rona said as she walked away.

On her days off, Rona liked to relax with TV shows and magazines and do some tax-free shopping in the valley.

Occasionally, Mercy would turn up and meet her so she supposed she could call her a friend now. Rona preferred her own company, but occasionally, she would see Mercy and listen to her chatter on. Mercy didn’t badger Rona with questions, and Rona had grown to like the familiarity of it. The notion that she would take coffee with Mercy, enjoy the cake from the local bakery, without the underlying worry that Mercy might suddenly wish to delve into her past, try and discover who she really was. It gave her an enormous sense of structure, something Rona craved. It made her feel normal. The role of manager for Tranquil Lodges, whilst it had few career prospects, brought focus and a daily routine. There was nothing like the satisfaction of closing the door on a perfect lodge before the guests arrived or when she read the five-star reviews online. Which Rona did often, most nights before she went to bed.

It was a good enough life for someone like Rona; it had its advantages and kept her occupied. Rona needed to be kept busy, or her mind would whirl out of control. She rarely let it happen, but when it did, it would come from nowhere like an avalanche. Such things couldn’t be predicted, and sometimes, Rona would find herself once again alone on the edge of the mountain where everything had changed forever.

3

JOLIE

‘Wave bye-bye to Daddy,’ Jolie said, gathering Gable and Vita at the lodge’s front door. It was 8 a.m., and they were both still in their pyjamas, their hair tousled, and their eyes half closed. Jolie pulled her thick cardigan around her and shaded her tired eyes from the brightness of the morning sun as its rays began to hit the snow-drenched mountains that hugged their lodge which nestled among them. The mountain was already coming to life. In the distance she could hear the sound of the ski lift starting up and the high buzzing sound of a skidoo. Jolie spotted a few hosts in light blue logoed polo shirts under their heavy jackets, their boots crunching through the snow as they headed to some of the other lodges to begin cooking breakfasts.

The memory of when Jolie was the one doing that grabbed her and, for a moment, she was back there, walking up the hill to greet the family she’d been assigned to and make their space clean and tidy again. And then that memory was once again stamped out, and she felt the fear and the loss of someone she had cared for return.

‘I’ll see you all in a few days.’ Idris’. . .