meat market makes through the night. Stan stirred in his basket and stared at me with bleary eyes, checking to see if I might be planning to give him some food. He settled back into his snoring slumber as I went to look in on Scout. She was sleeping peacefully but had kicked all her bedclothes off. I pulled the duvet back over her and quietly slipped out. I knew I should turn in and try to sleep, but I felt that I was missing something that was just out of reach.
I came back into the main space of the loft and stared at Mary’s face on my screen. She looked like a daughter of privilege, one of those rich English kids who grow up on ski slopes.
I hit play.
Mary sat before a poster that said LILLEHAMMER ’94, a flurry of white lines on a blue background, and it took me a moment to understand that they were meant to represent the Northern Lights. There was a man with her on stage, same kind of coach, middle-aged, also wearing a Team GB tracksuit. He covered the microphone with his hand and whispered to Mary. She nodded, composed herself and spoke.
‘Look – when I gave that interview to
Ski Monthly
I thought that we were talking about my fantastically slim chances of a medal. Right at the end of the interview, the journalist asked me if I had a boyfriend and I answered honestly – I
don’t
have a boyfriend and I don’t
want
one until I meet … someone special.’
‘The love of your life, Mary?’ a woman shouted, the question laced with mocking laughter.
Mary looked at her coldly, her white teeth bared in a thin smile, and I saw the fighting spirit in her.
‘The love of my life? Why not? It would be nothing less than what I deserve. And now – well. All this.’
Then there was a CNN reporter on screen.
‘
But Mary Gatling, the Ice Virgin of Lillehammer, may have found love in the snow of Lillehammer
.’
There was some footage of Mary coming a spectacular cropper on the slopes, and then CNN cut to the Olympic village, where Mary was being pushed in a wheelchair by a grinning young man – although Brad Wood was not as young as her. He was ten years older than Mary and looked it. The presenter on CNN could hardly contain her excitement.
‘
After withdrawing from the downhill event following a nasty fall, the young Brit was consoled by American biathlete, Brad Wood – who was just out of the medals in the biathlon but has perhaps been luckier in love
.’
The film cut to the closing ceremony. There were athletes everywhere. The Olympic flag was being passed from the mayor of Lillehammer to the mayor of Nagano. And Mary was out of her wheelchair now but walking with a cane in one hand and Brad’s meaty paw in the other.
‘
It looks like the Ice Virgin of Lillehammer has finally found her Prince Charming
.’
The film stopped with a close-up of Mary and Brad looking up at the fireworks of the closing ceremony, his arms wrapped around her tight. Wrapped up warm like a couple of kids at a bonfire. The clip had over a million hits. And there was more, much more. Mary Gatling 1994 Olympics. Mary Gatling 1994. Mary Gatling Ice Virgin. Mary Gatling Brad Wood 1994. Ice Virgin XVII Olympic Winter Games.
But I kept staring at the frozen frame before me. Brad Wood with his large hands placed protectively on Mary’s stomach. And they had that look I remembered. The delighted surprise of a man and a woman who can’t believe their luck in finding each other.
It might have been all the gear they had on.
Because I could have sworn that the Ice Virgin looked as if she was already pregnant.
An early morning mist hung over The Gardens.
At the far end of the gated community two uniformed officers stood either side of the crime scene tape that still surrounded the Wood house. Our people were knocking on doors of the other five houses. I watched one door opened up by a Filipina maid who we had already talked to.
Edie Wren cursed. ‘The door-to-door is a total washout,’ she said. ‘All we’ve had are housekeepers
I came back into the main space of the loft and stared at Mary’s face on my screen. She looked like a daughter of privilege, one of those rich English kids who grow up on ski slopes.
I hit play.
Mary sat before a poster that said LILLEHAMMER ’94, a flurry of white lines on a blue background, and it took me a moment to understand that they were meant to represent the Northern Lights. There was a man with her on stage, same kind of coach, middle-aged, also wearing a Team GB tracksuit. He covered the microphone with his hand and whispered to Mary. She nodded, composed herself and spoke.
‘Look – when I gave that interview to
Ski Monthly
I thought that we were talking about my fantastically slim chances of a medal. Right at the end of the interview, the journalist asked me if I had a boyfriend and I answered honestly – I
don’t
have a boyfriend and I don’t
want
one until I meet … someone special.’
‘The love of your life, Mary?’ a woman shouted, the question laced with mocking laughter.
Mary looked at her coldly, her white teeth bared in a thin smile, and I saw the fighting spirit in her.
‘The love of my life? Why not? It would be nothing less than what I deserve. And now – well. All this.’
Then there was a CNN reporter on screen.
‘
But Mary Gatling, the Ice Virgin of Lillehammer, may have found love in the snow of Lillehammer
.’
There was some footage of Mary coming a spectacular cropper on the slopes, and then CNN cut to the Olympic village, where Mary was being pushed in a wheelchair by a grinning young man – although Brad Wood was not as young as her. He was ten years older than Mary and looked it. The presenter on CNN could hardly contain her excitement.
‘
After withdrawing from the downhill event following a nasty fall, the young Brit was consoled by American biathlete, Brad Wood – who was just out of the medals in the biathlon but has perhaps been luckier in love
.’
The film cut to the closing ceremony. There were athletes everywhere. The Olympic flag was being passed from the mayor of Lillehammer to the mayor of Nagano. And Mary was out of her wheelchair now but walking with a cane in one hand and Brad’s meaty paw in the other.
‘
It looks like the Ice Virgin of Lillehammer has finally found her Prince Charming
.’
The film stopped with a close-up of Mary and Brad looking up at the fireworks of the closing ceremony, his arms wrapped around her tight. Wrapped up warm like a couple of kids at a bonfire. The clip had over a million hits. And there was more, much more. Mary Gatling 1994 Olympics. Mary Gatling 1994. Mary Gatling Ice Virgin. Mary Gatling Brad Wood 1994. Ice Virgin XVII Olympic Winter Games.
But I kept staring at the frozen frame before me. Brad Wood with his large hands placed protectively on Mary’s stomach. And they had that look I remembered. The delighted surprise of a man and a woman who can’t believe their luck in finding each other.
It might have been all the gear they had on.
Because I could have sworn that the Ice Virgin looked as if she was already pregnant.
An early morning mist hung over The Gardens.
At the far end of the gated community two uniformed officers stood either side of the crime scene tape that still surrounded the Wood house. Our people were knocking on doors of the other five houses. I watched one door opened up by a Filipina maid who we had already talked to.
Edie Wren cursed. ‘The door-to-door is a total washout,’ she said. ‘All we’ve had are housekeepers
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