Page 20 of Break the Ice

‘No, this feels more gritty, more like I’m seeing the real England,’ he says as a man in a Christmas tree jumper pushes his trolley past us. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone buy that much wine and sprouts before.

‘I mean, while we’re here, we should get a car picnic, coffees, use the loo. I need to pick up some gift cards and last-minute things,’ I tell him.

‘The loo,’ he says, amused by the lingo. ‘But the dog…’

‘I can carry him, like a baby.’

‘What if anyone approaches us?’ He looks overly concerned.

‘I’ll run and you create a diversion. Or I’ll tell them he’s your emotional support dog,’ I say. Wow, Joshua is really not a rule-breaker in any way. ‘It’s so busy I don’t think people will notice. I will cover any fines. I will make sure you’re not deported.’

‘You’re mocking me. Again,’ he says, as we walk towards the lights, the bustle of the place, dodging the hordes of shoppers.

I only mock people I like. But I don’t say that out loud. I scoop Steve up in my arms. ‘Grab a shopping cart.’

‘You mean a trolley?’ he says, going faux cockney again.

‘Yeah,’ I say. I hate the way he looks excited to know my language, like he wants a pat on the head. Also, the accent really needs work.

As we walk into the supermarket, I’m pretty certain I’ve never seen scenes like this. Joshua and I have mainly kept off the radio once we got Stevie Wonder on Spotify looped for the dog. I’m now wondering if we missed out on some news about a possible snow apocalypse coming our way. Why has that person just got firewood and cheese in their trolley? The floor is sodden from people who’ve dragged slush inside and cleaners furiously circle the shoppers with mops. It’s a frenzy of Christmas music, giant bells hanging from the air and the droning beep of the tills. I’ve never seen this many big coats in the same square metre in my life before. The dog nestles into my chest, big eyes like chocolate buttons gazing up at me. I’m so sorry, Steve. Just don’t pee on me.

‘I swear, I will make this quick. Just put anything you want in that trolley, yeah? I won’t judge.’

‘It’ll mainly be candy and chips.’

‘Throw it in. But keep it festive.’

He nods but I see the horror in his face at this place, which is so crowded, like it’s definitely on the edges of his comfort zone. Dude, aren’t you from New York? A woman walks past us on her phone. ‘Well, I don’t know Derek, she’s your bloody mother. What do you mean she hates my cauliflower cheese? Then she doesn’t have to eat it!’

Joshua literally freezes and I laugh as I pull the trolley with one hand to guide him. The key here will be to keep moving. I hear Steve whimper and I stroke his little head. ‘Here.’ I put a tin of Celebrations chocolates in the trolley. ‘These are elite.’ I then throw in a tin of honey roasted nuts and some Treeselets. ‘These are cheesy and yum. These are like crack.’

‘But not actual crack?’ he asks jokingly.

‘Well, no, we don’t tend to sell A-class drugs in the shape of crackers.’

I add a family tin of biscuits too, but then notice that Joshua’s wandered off away from the Christmas stuff. ‘They have meal deals here!’ he says excitedly as he walks towards that aisle, and it’s quite hilarious to see the joy in his face. I guess it being Christmas Eve, there is less demand on these counters so the shelves are fully stocked.

‘You like a meal deal?’ I ask him.

‘I do. I just can’t get over the economic reasoning behind them. Like I can get a pasta salad bowl, a smoothie and a snack for the equivalent of five dollars. And then you can get all the different combos, you can really get your money’s worth.’

I swear I can hear the dog laughing at his excitement. ‘Knock yourself out, mate. Grab me an egg sandwich when you’re ready.’

‘You sure?’ he asks me. ‘They have Christmas sandwiches, subs. You wanted to keep it festive.’

‘I like egg. Though you’re probably right, in an enclosed space that might not be fair to you. Maybe just a fruit salad bowl then…’

He shakes his head. ‘No. Phoebe, I don’t quite know you well enough but no…’

I laugh, tilting my head as he questions my decisions. ‘It’s fruit. It’s super healthy.’

‘You take the fruit as a snack, not a main. They have lox here with cream cheese.’

‘Smoked salmon? That’ll smell worse than the egg, right?’

‘What do you normally have as a drink?’ he asks me.

‘Water?’