Read Confessions of a Chalet Girl: for Free Online

gasped, stepping out of Magda’s reach. ‘But I'm really not a very good skier. I don’t know why you’d think I was.’
    Scott smiled. ‘Now I know you’re being modest. When you listed skiing as an interest on your CV I’d no idea how many amateur competitions you’d won. The guests will be really impressed to have a slalom champion along side them.’
    The colour drained from Holly’s face. She looked imploringly at him, aghast. ‘Really, I’m not any good, I…’
    ‘Enough with the false modesty Holly,’ Amelia snapped, clearly put out to be ousted from the helicopter trip by the new girl. ‘If you don’t want people to know you shouldn’t splash it all over your Facebook page, should you?’
    Time to break things up.
    ‘Come on girls, don’t get catty on me. Go forth and mingle and don’t forget to be professional. Our guests are paying good money to have a nice time and that money pays your salaries so please go do your jobs.’
    ***
    Holly scuttled out of the room before anyone could talk to her but headed for her room instead of the party. She’d left her iPhone on charge and needed to find out what on earth everyone was talking about.
    Don’t panic, there’ll be a rational explanation. You can find this other Holly Buchanan’s profile and go show Scott, explain you can’t ski.
    She grabbed her phone from its charger and clicked immediately onto her Facebook App.
    ‘This can’t be right,’ she murmured aloud. ‘Oh bloody hell!’
    On her Facebook Timeline there was a photo of her on skis, holding up a cup…Dazedly she backed onto her bunk bed and sat down. How could this be happening? It all looked so real, for a microsecond she even questioned if she’d some kind of selective amnesia and had simply forgotten she was an expert championship skier.
    Get with it Holly, think…
    Obviously someone had hacked her account. She clicked on the twitter app too, just to check and gasped as she read ‘her’ latest tweet.
    Gr8 to be back in Alps again, can’t wait to show Verbier my moves on the slopes!
    She ground her teeth. There it was again, that picture of her on skis, holding a cup. How? Someone must have photo-shopped it. But who…who would do that? Who on earth would think this was funny?
    Steve?
The answer popped into her mind. He was a techno freak computer nerd and had a pretty warped sense of humour.
    She pressed 'Pips mobile' on her contact list, nervously biting at some loose skin on her thumb. Given it was New Year they would still be up, she was sure. After two rings Pippa answered, Holly cut across her greeting.
    ‘Hi there, I need to keep this short because the call’s going to cost a fortune.’
    ‘Well, Happy New Year to you to!’ Pippa replied.
    ‘Sorry Pips, I’m a bit stressed. Someone’s hacked my Facebook and Twitter accounts and posted some rubbish about me being a championship slalom skier. They’ve even posted a photoshopped photo. Worse still, my boss has seen it and wants me to help take the guests off piste the day after tomorrow.’
    ‘Really? How funny!’
    ‘It is not bloody funny, it’s a nightmare,’ Holly groaned. ‘I put skiing as an interest on my CV, meaning I was interested in learning how to ski and now with that and the Facebook thing he seems convinced I’m an ace.’
    ‘So, tell him the truth.’
    ‘I tried and he just thinks I’m being modest. I didn't actually admit I'd never been on skis before though. Are you laughing?’ Holly rubbed at her aching temples with her free hand. What on earth was she going to do?
    ‘Can’t you just fudge it, haven’t you had any lessons yet?’
    ‘No, I had no time last week. You remember, I had all that babysitting work, looking after the tots while their parents skied. I hired some skis and boots when I got here and I’ve got those Salapettes and the ski jacket I managed to get cheap on eBay. But… I think there’s a shedload more to it than just having the right gear.’ Holly sighed, she