Page 1 of Break the Ice

PROLOGUE

His original (and full) name was Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson, which we can all agree is a dubious name choice for a dog. He had been a birthday gift for a thirteen-year-old boy whose mum wanted to get him off his PS4. Every day? I’ve got to walk him every day? But it’s raining, Mum! I never even wanted the dog. Why don’t you walk him? He was at home a lot on his own, so he’d pee on the floor because of his teeny tiny bladder. The bills added up. Vaccinations, food, grooming, neutering. They started putting him in a crate but he didn’t like the crate and would cry at night so the dad would come down and call him a ‘whiny bastard’ and this would make him wee more out of fright. They would walk him around the block, sometimes to the park. They never let him off the lead. The one time they did, he got chased by a frisky cockapoo and had to hide under an ice cream van. His breed? To look at him, you’d say there was a touch of German shepherd in his colouring but he’s mid-size, with soft floppy ears like a beagle, large chocolate-coloured eyes. One day after he pooed in the downstairs bathroom and the dad stepped in it, he took the dog to a layby off the main road and left him there. They told the teenager he ran away. They got the teenager a gerbil. He called the gerbil John Cena.

‘Hello. How are you? My name’s Norah.’

He looked at her curiously. He liked the way she rested her palm on his ears and stroked his muzzle. She didn’t mind that he was covering her in fur and drool. She smelt like biscuits and bacon. ‘Oh my, you’re so bloody cute. They found him where? Who would do that to a dog? That’s awful. And how old do you think he is?’ Norah was squatting on the floor, and when he leapt into her she tumbled over. The other lady he used to live with hated it when he did that. But Norah laughed, she thought it was funny. She regained her balance and he arched his neck back as she continued to stroke his head.

‘We reckon he can’t be older than a year to eighteen months but you never know…’

Norah looked at him, her head tilted. ‘What do you think, Adam?’

The man bent down to his level, slowly. ‘Hey there, mate? How’s it going?’

The dog cocked his head to one side, and sidled up to the man. He felt him pat his back gently. He liked this so he rolled over so his feet were in the air. Itch my belly, just like that please. Both of them laughed. He rolled over, jumped up and licked Adam on the face.

‘As you can see, he’s excitable. He needs some basic training. Toilet, lead, his recall isn’t great. He’s a nervous sleeper, always has an eye out to make sure someone’s around.’

This didn’t put Adam off at all. ‘That’s fine. I grew up with dogs so I know what’s needed.’

‘We’ve tested him with other dogs and kids and he is fine though. How old are yours?’

‘Eight and ten. We’re getting the house ready. Stair gates, secure garden. You’re welcome to visit in the week to inspect. Whenever is good for you,’ Norah said.

‘And do both of you work?’

‘Adam works from home and I own a restaurant, but I arrange my shifts around the kids,’ Norah said.

‘Well, as standard we will ensure he’s vaccinated and neutered, and then he’ll be ready the week before Christmas. Is that too hectic with the holidays?’

‘It’s perfect,’ Norah said. ‘Is that cool, buddy? Would you like to come and live with us?’

The dog had been in this room with the cages for two weeks now, ever since that policeman scooped him up off the road because he’d been running in between the cars and caused a three-car accident with luckily no major injuries. This room was clean and bright and he was fed and watered every day. No one shouted at him for peeing on the floor. He didn’t know what Christmas was. But Norah and Adam smelt good and neither of them had shouted at him yet. They seemed to like it when he went on his back and stuck his legs in the air, so he did that again. They took a photo of him. Actually, they took a lot of photos.

‘What do you think?’ Norah said.

‘I think the kids will lose their minds. He’s a cute little thing, eh?’ Adam replied.

‘So we’re really doing this?’

‘Kids who grow up with dogs are just better,’ Adam said.

‘Says the man who grew up with dogs,’ Norah replied, laughing.

‘I think it’s the best Christmas gift idea we’ve ever had,’ Adam said, patting the dog on the head one last time. ‘You just need a name.’

The dog looked at them both strangely. A what? Was that the same as a bath? He really didn’t like them. He ran in a circle for a moment, terrorised by that thing that was growing out from behind him. Norah and Adam laughed. This again was pleasing so he jumped up again. He then peed. Everywhere.

ONE

PHOEBE

Cranberry. When did cranberry become the official fruit of Christmas? Did someone just look at all the berries and think – we’re assigning you to Christmas along with turkey, gingerbread and peppermint. Congratulations, that is your destiny fulfilled. It’s been a long week of festive parties in my new events job, people seeing in the season with parties, big red and white parties with fairy lights and platters of pigs in blankets, and enough cranberry-flavoured cocktails to fill several Olympic-sized swimming pools. Why is cranberry so dry? Why does it always feel vaguely medicinal too? I may be hungover as balls for the rest of the season but at least my plumbing will run like clockwork.

I open my eyes and see the clock on my side table, glowing at me. It’s ten twenty-three. In the morning. What day is it? Sunday. I am safe. No work. Not until tonight, when I have to attend yet another Christmas party, in Holborn for an accountancy firm. This one is Nutcracker themed and I’ll be attending dressed as a fairy, complete with tutu and a wand. I’ll be the first to admit that I was lucky to get a job so soon after graduating but it’s like circus work, printing out guest lists, juggling baubles and escorting drunk people off the premises. It’s not my future, but it will do for now, especially as it’s Christmas and the tips are festively big.

I pull the duvet up to my chin and lie there for a moment to defrost. It’s cold. It’s been a December of icy chilly weather where every day it threatens to snow but instead we wake up to ice and I have to add fifteen minutes to my alarm so I can de-ice my piece-of-tin Fiat. The heaters don’t work so I have to plug in some contraption I bought off Temu that plugs into the cigarette lighter. I wonder if I can Deliveroo a coffee to my bed. Instructions for delivery. Go to the window at the side of the ground-floor flat. You will have to climb over a bush but a hand will be waiting to collect. My phone rings and I grab it from the side table. Norah. Why do you always call so early, sister? Oh joy, a FaceTime too.

‘Hello?’ I let the screen adjust and switch on. I don’t look great, but I am alive, my blonde curly hair nested on top of my head. I also have glitter on my face, so it’s at least seasonal. The faces of my nieces appear on the screen and I grin to see them. ‘Freya, Skye… hello my lovelies. Good morning.’