Free Angel by Phil Cummings Page B

could.
    â€˜How long before we can try sliding,Dad?’ Shane asked.
    â€˜You mean skiing Shane, not sliding. Sliding is something you do in mud.’
    â€˜Don’t be so pompous, Rob!’ Jenny scolded. ‘Now come on, let’s give it a go.’
    The slope was gentle and the snow perfect.
    â€˜I’ll go first,’ said Rob. ‘I’ll be able to intercept you if you lose control as you gather speed.’ He looked down the slope. ‘Mind you,’ he laughed mockingly, ‘this little thing doesn’t offer much of a challenge. You won’t get any speed up going down that.’
    â€˜Just get on with it, Rob,’ said Jenny, prodding him with one of her stocks. ‘We’ll follow you, so don’t go too fast or try to show off.’
    Before Jenny had finished the sentence, Rob was on his way. He looked awkward and was obviously unsure of himself. He managed to keep his balance, however, and was gaining speed.
    Jenny and Shane found themselves too interested in Rob’s methods of waving arms and swinging hips to begin their descent. He was struggling to keep his balance and it showed. By now he had reached a speed that would make a sudden stop a catastrophe. He was digging his stocks hard into the snow, trying desperately to slow himself or at least gain more control.
    â€˜Is he all right, Mum?’ Shane asked.
    â€˜I don’t think he is,’ said Jenny with obvious concern. ‘He’s out of control. I don’t think he can stop.’
    Shane was finding it hard to watch. ‘What shall we do?’
    â€˜There’s nothing we can do. I just hope he can regain some sort of control or at least land in a soft patch of snow.’
    If only they could have seen Rob’s face under the sunglasses, scarf and woollen hat. He was terrified. This wasn’t how he remembered skiing.
    People saw him coming and quickly moved aside to let him through. He was waving his arms and wiggling his hips frantically. Then he bent his knees so far that his backside was almost touching the snow. His scarf was beginning to flap behind him and his situation was getting worse. Jenny and Shane watched and waited for the inevitable collision, fall or cartwheeling tumble.
    Rob began to move his backside in an attempt to slide himself sideways and skid to a reasonably graceful stop but he lacked the mastery and control necessary for such a manoeuvre. All he was doing was making himself look more ridiculous.
    Shane hated standing helplessly watching his father head for obvious and painful disaster. ‘Why don’t we slide down slowly towards him? At least then we’ll be there a bit quicker when he stacks it.’
    Jenny grabbed Shane by the arm. ‘Do you think we can slide down there without ending up in the predicament Rob’s in?’
    â€˜Of course we can, Mum. He was too cocky, that’s all. He should’ve been more careful. We’ll go very, very slowly and hang onto each other.’
    They had only slid a metre or two when they heard Rob scream.
    â€˜WHOAAAAGGGHHH!’
    He’d tried to do something with one of his skis and had lifted it into the air. Skiing on two legs had proved to be difficult enough for him, but skiing on one leg brought disaster. He suddenly tumbled over and over and over in a windmill-style fall. Arms, legs, skis and stocks flew about in a sickening flurry until he landed with a thud on his back.
    Shane and Jenny stared at him open-mouthed. His skis were pointing awkwardly skywards. He wasn’t moving. He had obviouslyhurt himself but they didn’t know how badly. Jenny had visions of him wrapped in bandages from head to foot like a mummy.
    Despite the urgency, Shane and Jenny couldn’t hurry. They were slipping and sliding like blobs of butter in a hot pan. Every two or three metres one of them would fall and need help, making their progress even slower still.
    Shane couldn’t believe how hard