Page 9 of Break the Ice

I do as I’m told, looking inside the fridge, smiling at the three bottles of hot sauce. I wonder if this woman might adopt me. She hands me a teaspoon and I scrape a little bit of the brandy butter on to my mince pie before putting it in my mouth, feeling the crystals of it dissolve on my tongue.

‘And just like that I’m converted,’ I say, smiling.

She seems pleased as she stirs the sugar into my tea. ‘So I’ve never had a housesitter with recommendations before.’

‘Recommendations?’ I ask.

‘My husband knows Marge at the university – in her own words,’ she says, reading off her phone, ‘“He is tidy, polite and he always says good morning to me when he sees me and some of these people have worked here for twenty years and still don’t know my name.”’

I smile. ‘My parents are big on manners.’

‘As they should be,’ she says. ‘So I hear you’re temporarily homeless?’

‘The university has let out my room so I’m looking for alternative accommodation,’ I explain.

‘Not going home for Christmas?’ she enquires, leaning against the countertop.

‘No. I couldn’t get the flights I needed. I’m going back on New Year’s though, so I’ll just be on my own⁠—’

‘No family, friends over here? Girlfriend?’ she asks. ‘Forgive me if I’m being nosey.’

I do pause when she says that. ‘No, just me… I’m used to it.’ She stops for a moment to look at me. I really hope that’s not pity or worry that I’m some loner weirdo. ‘I have other references if you need them?’

‘Just leave me some phone numbers and emails and I’ll follow up.’

‘Will do,’ I say. She still looks concerned. ‘Your house will be in safe hands,’ I add.

‘It’s not that. It’s just maternal tendencies kicking in,’ she explains. ‘I mean, I’m sold. I spoke to someone on the phone yesterday whose first question was how I felt about parties and snakes. You seem like a nice guy. You come recommended. You like my mince pies. You are very welcome to have your Christmas here.’

I beam, grateful for her warmth and liking her matter-of-fact nature.

‘It’s simple really – feed the fish in the living room every day, put the bins out and you know, make yourself at home. Use the kitchen, watch TV. The sofa in the living room pulls out to a bed.’

‘Like a hide-a-bed?’ I ask.

‘Yeah,’ she says, laughing. ‘Like in Home Alone?’

‘He doesn’t want to share the hide-a-bed with Fuller…’

‘Because he wets the bed.’

We both smile. Please adopt me. I’m good with gingerbread houses.

‘Are there house rules?’ I ask her.

‘Ummm, I guess, no snakes. No big raves either but then you don’t look the sort. I’m sorry, is that rude?’

‘No. Just an accurate perception. There will be no big raves or parties or similar. I’m looking at a quiet Christmas. Can I use your fireplace though?’ I ask. ‘I was a Boy Scout. I will use it sensibly.’

She smiles. ‘You can. Firewood is stored in the garden. I’ll leave bedding and towels out. Instructions for appliances, the fish. And go easy on the plants. My sister was here one week in Easter and killed one of my ferns.’

‘That was Aunty Phoebe,’ a little voice says from the hallway, and I turn to see two girls in matching reindeer onesies, staring at me.

‘Girls, this is Joshua. He’s going to look after our house while we’re in Devon seeing Grandpa.’

They both look at me with wide eyes. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you guys. Are you excited for Christmas?’

They both cup their hands over their mouths and their mother laughs. I’m trying to work out why I’m so funny.