Mary understood why Robert liked to go abroad and practise his languages –it was a harmless enough hobby. All the same she did miss family Christmases.

‘Wilkommen, Herr und Frau Wilkins! So, you return once more to the Schwabenhof. Ein moment – I will help you with your luggage.'

As she followed the Frau Schmitt and Robert up the stairs Mary thought fondly of the crime novels in her suitcase. Then her thoughts were interrupted.

‘ I have a very nice couple staying, also English. I have placed them at the same table for the meal-times.’

‘How lovely,’ Mary said, as she watched Robert’s neck muscles stiffen.

When they stepped into the bright bed-room, however, their mood lifted. The view of the Rosen Alp, with its fir-covered slopes and gleaming peak, was as breath-taking as ever.

Robert began questioning Frau Schmitt in English, the language he used when understanding was crucial.

‘Er… you mentioned an English couple, Frau Schmitt...’

‘Indeed I did, Herr Wilkins’. The landlady drew back her shoulders, tilting her crown of grey plaits. ‘He is quite famous in your country, I think. He is a driver of racing cars, now retired.’

Robert wasn’t keen on sport, but in Mary's opinion stories of thrills and spills on the track might be quite entertaining.

When they came down for dinner, though, there seemed to be some mistake. An elegant middle-aged woman sat at the table for four where they found the little napkin envelopes bearing their names. She had been sipping noodle soup, but laid the spoon down as Mary and Robert took their places. She blotted her lips daintily with her napkin before speaking.

‘Ah, you must be Mr and Mrs Wilkins. Frau Schmitt has told me so much about you. I’m so pleased there will be other English people here. Please call me Barbara. My husband will be along in a moment’.

Further words were prevented by the arrival of a handsome stranger. He had the kind of healthy, blond good looks which made people notice as he passed and wonder which in film they’d seen him. He was, Mary guessed, about thirty five. He came towards them and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

‘Ah, well done, Barbara. I see you’ve introduced yourself already. Nice to meet you, I’m Nigel Hudson.’

Mary was astonished. Here, indeed, was the racing driver, but he looked much too young. Well, there was no real reason to think this blond Adonis couldn’t be her husband, but he was rather young for retirement. Judging by the expensive suit, there was no shortage of money, though. Mary tried to rein in her imagination.

During the meal, while Robert chatted to the strangers, Mary noticed with approval how attentively Nigel treated his wife. He reassured her that the kit inspection which had detained him was all complete. All was ready for their downhill classes next day. Barbara giggled and her eyes twinkled, as if they shared an exciting secret.

‘I must say, I admire you,’ said Mary. ‘Robert and I just walk about and enjoy the scenery. Oh, and Robert likes to practise his German, of course.’

‘Speak the lingo, do you?’ Nigel looked impressed. ‘I have to rely on my little interpreter, here.’ He patted Barbara’s hand. ‘She helps me out wherever we go.’

‘Do you travel a lot then?’ Mary was eager to learn what kept the relationship so loving. She felt a pang of guilt as she found herself thinking her own marriage had lost its sparkle.

‘For our winter breaks, yes. We like to try different places.’ Again, Barbara gave her little secretive giggle, and exchanged a meaningful look with her husband.

‘Now, time for a game of cards before bed-time?’

So they even played bridge, the Wilkins’ favourite game. Nigel, it seemed, didn’t want to bore them with racing stories.

‘I’m pleased you like them’, said Mary, as she and Robert undressed for bed. ‘A tiny bit irritating, though, the way they keep flirting with one another like teenagers. Did you notice that?’

‘Oh, don’t start, Mary. Not everybody’s involved in some drama. They’re perfectly ordinary people.’

But Mary continued, ‘He said a very surprising thing over coffee. I asked him if he found life dull after retiring from the race-track. Do you know what he said?’

‘No, Miss Marples. What was it?’

‘He said that, if anything, life was more exciting now. What could he have meant, I wonder? Surely not…?’ Mary broke off, too embarrassed to say anything more and in any case Robert wasn’t listening.

The next day they began to find out what made life so exciting for Nigel and Barbara. Nigel was in a frenzy of anger at dinner, chopping at his Wiener schnitzel and speaking sharply to Barbara.

‘What an interfering fool that instructor turned out to be – snapping your ski-pole like that.’ He began spearing his meat with a savagery that alarmed Mary.

‘Now, now, Nigel. Don’t be too harsh on the poor man. It was lucky he spotted the weakness and took the trouble to test the pole.’

‘Why, yes, you might owe your life to him’, Mary agreed, secretly thinking that Nigel’s inspection of the night before couldn’t have been very thorough. Still, it was dark in the cellar ski-store. It wasn’t really surprising the crack had been missed.

Barbara was taking it very well in the circumstances. She simply took out the little note-book she used for scoring at bridge, and scribbled some figures in it. She even had a look of triumph on her face, which Mary thought very odd, but put it down to relief at her lucky escape.

In the days that followed there were a number of such near-misses. Next day Barbara reported that a stray toboggan had appeared from nowhere and ran across her path, causing her to swerve. She would have collided with a tree, but another skier came from behind to divert her in time. Robert had been further down the slope, out of sight.

On day three there was an accident at the ski-lift, when the seat in front of the one in which Barbara was travelling came loose from its couplings and fell hundreds of feet into the valley below.

‘Just think – I would have been on that particular seat if I’d been a little more nimble when it arrived. As it was, I had to let it pass on empty, and catch the next.’

She glanced at Nigel over her dish of goulash soup with a look that Mary could have sworn was triumphant, and, with her little silvery laugh, jotted in her note-book.

Mary began to wonder if she was in her right mind. Surely these accidents had more than coincidence about them?

All that evening Mary detected menace in Nigel’s bland charm. Why, he positively relished trumping his partner’s Ace, when they were already two hundred points down, and vulnerable.

By the time they had finished playing, she’d concluded that Nigel was trying to murder his wife.

The motive, of course, was money. Both were heavily insured, she discovered after some artful questioning. Barbara must be on to him, and was collecting evidence before going to a lawyer. That accounted for the note book. She must have nerves of steel, though, to pretend nothing was wrong, when at any moment Nigel might succeed.

Lost in speculation, she suddenly heard Nigel suggest that she and Robert join them for a sleigh-ride the next evening. Before she could say a word, Robert had accepted.

In their bedroom, Mary said, ‘Robert, I’m not sure about this jaunt tomorrow…’

‘But I thought you’d love a romantic horse-driven sleigh through the forest. ‘

‘It’s not the ride itself’. She slipped her night-dress over her head. ‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that they’re, well, a tiny bit accident-prone?’

Robert laughed, his mouth foaming with toothpaste. ‘I agree that she is, but that’s no reason to think she’ll jinx the sleigh-ride. Honestly, I think you should stop reading those books.’

‘You don’t think there’s more to it than coincidence, then?’

‘Whatever else could there be?’ Robert paused in unfolding the duvet.

Mary took a deep breath. ‘I think Nigel’s behind all these accidents.’

‘Bit much, blaming poor old Nigel for his wife’s bad luck. Besides, do you think he’s going to bump off a whole sleigh-load of people?’

As they snuggled under the duvet, he added, ‘Nigel tells me they intend to stay at the hotel all day tomorrow, to rest, so there’s no chance of another accident.’ He chuckled. ‘Unless she trips over the hotel cat, of course!’

The trip was so popular that two sleighs set off the next evening after dinner, each with its load of six passengers and a driver. It was a perfect night for the drive, and Mary felt ashamed of her suspicions. Confiding in Robert had made her realise how silly she'd been.

She moved closer to Robert under the rug and smiled at Barbara and Nigel sitting opposite, arms entwined like a honeymoon couple. She wished they could go on forever through the forest, the scent of pine filling the air and only the jingling of the harness and the muffled drumming of the horses’ hoofs to break the silence.

Mary didn’t normally like the Austrian idea of a good time. This evening, however, it was all quite different. It was as if she had caught the Tyrolean spirit at last. When they stopped at the hunting lodge that marked the half-way point of the journey, she joined in the choruses of the yodelling songs, clinking glasses of spiced wine with Nigel and Barbara. ‘Ein Prosit! Ein Prosit!’she sang, like a local.

Feeling a bit tipsy, she heard Robert say it was time to go, and felt his arms around her as he helped into place in the sleigh.

As the driver urged on the horses and the lantern began to swing Mary realised that there seemed to be more room in the sleigh than when they set out. With a sudden chill that was nothing to do with the temperature, she realised that Barbara and Nigel were missing.

‘Robert, where are the Hudsons?’

‘Don’t worry. Barbara had to visit the ladies’ room, but there was space for them in the other carriage. I saw them get in as we pulled away.’

As he spoke, a loud crack sounded just ahead, followed by a spine-jerking jolt as the horses shied sideways.

The driver struggled to control the horses, which would have bolted if the sleigh had not become lodged at an angle in the deep snow that lay on either side of the path. Mary saw that their way was blocked by a huge branch. She thought she glimpsed, beyond the moving bodies of the other passengers in the carriage, a figure darting away into the forest. She heard a voice calling in German from the carriage behind.

Robert asked, ‘Are you alright?’ but seemed, if anything, more shaken than she was, and needed reassuring several times that no bones were broken, nor any harm done. The runners of the sleigh, were hopelessly twisted.

In a daze, they transferred to the other sleigh, which halted some yards behind, whilst the driver of the damaged vehicle uncoupled the horses and prepared to lead them home.

The Hudsons greeted them with cries of relief. They seemed strangely exhilarated by the incident. Robert avoided Nigel’s gaze and kept his eyes on the road ahead.

Once in their bedroom he said, ‘Mary, I think it’s best if we leave tomorrow.’

‘Oh, come on, Robert. You surely don’t think Nigel can have arranged for that branch to fall. Besides, they were in the other sleigh.’

‘That’s what makes me say we ought to leave. You see, I heard what was called out of the other sleigh after the so-called ‘accident’ happened.’

‘What was that?’

Roughly translated, it was, ‘Fool. You’ve let it go too soon.’

‘Well, there you are, then. It can’t have been Nigel. If it was in German, it couldn’t have been Nigel. He can’t even order an egg at breakfast.’

‘Correct. It was a woman’s voice I heard calling out. It was Barbara’

‘You mean, it hasn’t been Nigel arranging the accidents after all?’ How can that be true?’
‘Look, maybe Nigel was responsible for what happened before- broken pole, runaway toboggan, ski-lift plunging down the mountain, but Mary dropped her notebook in the hunting lodge, and I saw what was written in it. She’s been keeping some kind of score and not just at bridge. ‘

‘But what’s the point? What would be the prize?’

‘There’s the insurance you found out about, but I don’t think that’s the real reason. I know it sounds incredible, but I think they get some kind of kick out of it.’

‘But tonight they could both have been killed, if Barbara hadn’t been delayed.’
‘Oh, I don’t think they mean the accidents to be fatal – just, you know, near enough to give one another a fright.’

‘Oh, Robert, no wonder he said he found retirement exciting. Shouldn’t we tell the police, in case they put anyone else into danger?’

‘What the point? I can hardly believe it myself, and we have no proof. I just don’t want to be anywhere near them in future. Let’s pack, shall we?’

In the months that followed Mary and Robert didn’t mention the strange pair. Robert suggested they spend Christmas at home.

Then, one morning in early December, a newspaper headline caught Mary’s eye:

EX FORMULA 1 DRIVER AND WIFE KILLED IN AVALANCHE

Underneath, Barbara read a paragraph that began: ‘Yesterday, ex car-racing ace Nigel Hudson and his wife Barbara lost their lives when ski-ing off-piste in the Austrian Alps….’

An avalanche! That must have taken some arranging, thought Mary. Or was it a natural accident? She didn’t suppose they’ve ever know.

‘No more Winter sports,’ Robert had said. They’d been in Malaga in July, at the time, where Robert was practising his Spanish. ‘It’s quite enough excitement for me, Mary, when you forget which suit is trumps at the Bridge table!’