Page 11 of Break the Ice

‘Really? Wow, you are good.’

‘Well, so is your family for adopting. Have you met him?’

I shake my head as she leads me into an empty room. I look around as I wait. I was excellent at last night’s event. I knew I had responsibilities the next day so I hardly drank. There was a handsome waiter and yes, I may have flirted with him, but I did not take him home. The event ended and I went home and drank water and set alarms because I did not need this to be another moment where Norah and Flo think I’m some flake of a sister who doesn’t know how to be a grown-up.

The door opens and a dog peers around the corner.

‘Hello? How are you?’ I say, squatting on the floor. I put my hand out and the dog looks up at the person holding his lead and then runs over, jumping up into my lap. He sniffs at my jeans and I fall back, laughing. ‘Oooh, someone’s excited… I like you already.’ I sit cross-legged on the floor and let him sit in my lap, stroking his silky soft ears and letting him sniff and investigate me. ‘I’m Phoebe. I’m your aunty. Hellooooo…’ I laugh because my tone and cadence has completely changed. I like how dogs can do that.

‘He likes you,’ the lady says. ‘So we’re finding out he needs some basic lead training but he’s a good boy really. He loves his food. Norah knows the brand he’s on. And he loves it when you stroke both ears at once.’

I cup his head in my hands and stroke both ears at once and see him go instantly calm, closing his eyes. Oh my. It’s like when I met my nieces and nephews for the first time. I visited each and every one within hours of their coming into the world, whether it was in the hospital or at home, and I just remember holding each one tight and thinking how deep the love ran through my bones for them. I am going to buy you cool stuff and be that aunt who will show up to every sports day and music concert and cheer and root for you so loudly that I will get thrown out of the place. This almost feels the same. I guess I won’t have to show up to your recorder concerts but I will always be here for walks and ear stroking. I’ll look after you, matey.

‘So that’s it. He’s ours?’ I ask the lady.

‘Norah signed all the forms. We will check in, and do ring us if you have any questions, yes?’

‘Did he have a name when he came here? Any collar or tags?’ I ask.

‘No. But I think he looks like a Boris.’

I smile. I think that borders on animal cruelty but I don’t say a word. The other volunteer gives me the lead and I take it. I guess it’s just you and me now, kid. Adventures with your Aunty Phoebe. Let’s do this.

As soon as we get outside I realise that, as much as I like dogs, I’ve never owned or handled one before, and this pooch is determined to yank my arm off with the way he’s pulling me down the street towards my car. He’s just excited to get into my motor, isn’t he? You know the wonders of a burgundy Fiat 500 and the fact that I have a whole box of treats and a fleece blanket waiting for you. This is going to be such a good road trip. He stops for a moment to sniff at a lamppost and then pees on it. Rather there than in my car. He then lunges forward and – hold up, is he eating something off the floor? Was that gum? Or a bit of pigeon shit? Either way, it’s a bit grim and I don’t know how to communicate that to him.

‘Just a bit further, kiddo,’ I tell him.

He stops to look at me. I know I’m not that lady who came the first time but I am bringing you to her. Trust me. Is it my woolly hat? I know it’s very pink but it keeps me very warm and, mate, this is cold. But I notice him looking up at the sky. Is it because he’s been indoors for so long, he doesn’t know what the sky looks like? Oh man. But he barks, a single yelp into the air, and I look up to the dark-grey slate sky as white flecks start to appear, slowly drifting down towards us. They land on his muzzle and he shakes them off, cocking his head to one side, confused.

‘This is snow,’ I tell him. He barks in response. It starts to come down thicker, a layer forming on the pavement, and I look up. I need to read the weather reports more. Was this on the cards? It’s been effing cold but it never snows in London, especially at Christmas. I look around to see people peering out of windows, hugging their coats closer to their bodies, palms to the air to catch it. The dog looks down at his feet as he makes pawprints in the white. I get out my phone and take a picture and then squat next to him. ‘You want to take some selfies? We can send them to Mummy?’ I hold up the phone and place his face next to mine. He licks my cheek and I laugh but click and look at the photo produced. It’s bloody perfect.

I have the package. We are on our way.

Please don’t give him your germs. But thank you. Best sister. Drive safe xx

This did not need to be said. See you in a bit x

‘We’ve got to keep moving, poochy face,’ I say to the dog as the cold starts to hit and the snow comes down thicker. Is this going to settle? We can wake up tomorrow and walk in the snow and make snowmen. Oh, the picture-perfect joy of it all.

I get to my car, scramble for my keys and open the boot, then urge the dog to jump in the crate. He stands there and peers inside. ‘Have you not seen a car before, kiddo? It’s cool. I bought a new blanket for you.’ He turns back to look at me. ‘Please? Get in.’ I put my seats down too. He doesn’t move though. I think he might be shaking. Is that the cold? You’re fine, you’ve got fur. I have a cheap knit from H&M that is mostly polyester. I bend down and pick him up and place him inside, but as soon as I put him in the crate he starts to walk around in quick circles. I don’t think he likes it. He makes little whining noises. Is he scared? ‘It’s fine, baby.’ This might be difficult if he doesn’t like my car because this is my job – to drive him to Devon. Is it because it’s old and Italian? The snow starts to come down even thicker and sits on my shoulders and cuffs. I go to the passenger side and open the door, lift him up and put him inside. This seems to be preferable to being in the crate so I shut the door and shuffle over to the driver’s side. Oh my. This snow is pelting it down. It starts to blanket the car. ‘Son-of-a-bitch…’ I mutter. ‘Yeah, I wasn’t talking about you, Muttley. It’s cold. It’s very very cold.’ I look over at the dog. If you’re sitting there, I think you need a seat belt. I reach in my pocket and give him a treat for being quiet. ‘So what music do you like?’

He doesn’t reply.

I put my key in the ignition and turn it, and the engine stutters to a start but then dies again. It does this sometimes. I put my foot to the accelerator to give it a bit more juice. The lights flicker on and the engine starts like it has croup, but as soon as the engine starts to purr the dog sits there and cocks his head to the air and howls. Like a wolf. Is the moon out already? ‘Whoa, there, buddy. You can’t do that. Shush now. It’s OK. Is it the snow? Is it me?’ But he doesn’t stop. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong but this is going to be the longest drive of my life.

SIX

JOSHUA

‘Oh my God, that is so cosy. I love this for you,’ my sister, Maddie, says as she looks at me through our FaceTime call. ‘Look at their tree!’ I pan my phone around the room, to the roaring log fire. ‘Hold up, what’s on your feet?’

So when I arrived here, there was a basket waiting for me on the kitchen counter. Norah and her girls had left me cookies, beer, a giant bag of marshmallows, a hand-drawn card dripping in glitter and a gift that I probably should have waited to open until Christmas Day itself but I was so amped to see it that I opened it straight away and it was a pair of giant elf slippers that are both ridiculous and incredibly warm. I show them to my sister. ‘A gift from my host. She also left me a copy of Home Alone,’ I say, laughing, the irony not lost on me at all.

Maddie frowns as I make my feet do a dance. ‘How long have you been wearing those plaid pyjamas?’

‘Fresh on this morning,’ I tell her. They’re two days old in reality. ‘Do you wanna see their fish?’

‘Not really,’ she says, confused. She studies me in my NYC hoodie, the one she gave me before I left so I wouldn’t forget my roots. She must be able to see the rosy glow to my cheeks. I am the marshmallow. All these layers and warmth are all restorative. I’m here to rest, to sleep, to eat, to forget. And I have built the best fort that I’ve probably ever built. There are many blankets and pillows and one of the girls left me a teddy. Did I talk to that teddy the other day when I was drunk? Yes, I did. He’s a good listener. I even got a chess set out and challenged him to a game. ‘He’s in his hibernation era,’ she jokes.