Page 28 of Break the Ice

She points outside, just in case I hadn’t seen any of the snow on the ground. ‘You heard him. I said South Devon and he made a face like I was trying to get Mary to Bethlehem on a donkey.’

‘That analogy makes no sense because Joseph did that. She had a baby. In a manger. They called him Jesus,’ I explain. She doesn’t look impressed and I panic a little at her tears and big emotion. ‘So the dog gets there a bit late? That’s not a bad thing.’

She pulls a face, blowing her nose at the same time. ‘Of course it is. You want kids to believe in the power of Christmas, the magic. They’ve had a shit year, they had chicken pox, a wasp infestation in their loft, a hamster died. He escaped. They found his dead body behind the washing machine. They need this.’

I take all of that in; the angst, the tenacity in her face. She is determined to get this done. ‘And if this dog is late, my siblings will just add this to the list of Phoebe’s fuck-ups. She can’t even put a dog in a car and get him from A to B.’ The tears roll again. ‘Like the time I had to make those flyers for my brother’s thing and I put Pedro Pascal on them for fun and his people got in touch with us, or the time I ordered six hundred bottles of olive oil instead of sixty, or the time I dropped my sister’s birthday cake because I was drunk.’

I let her have her moment to relay these fuck-ups as they’re mildly amusing. ‘Was it a big cake?’

‘Her thirtieth. I tripped on a toddler. There’s a video.’

I nod. I hope she has more of those types of stories but, looking at her steely gaze out the window, I’m not going to ask her now. For someone so full of confidence, there’s real sadness there. She is scatty and one of the more mildly ridiculous people I’ve ever met, but she just wants to prove herself to people she loves. She wants to be taken seriously as the little sister.

‘Well, by my calculations you have eight hours until it’s midnight Christmas Day, and then what? The kids won’t wake up until six or seven at the earliest to open their gifts, so we have time,’ I say, looking at my watch.

‘By your calculations is it, Mr Maths Man?’ she tells me.

‘Oh, zip it,’ I tell her and she smiles that, for all her mocking, I’ve decided to snap back. ‘We have time. It’s not going to snow like this for hours. There will be breaks in the snow and we can split up the journey, safely, steadily. Even if we drive through the night. We can stop in villages like…’

‘Snoddington, Tintinhall…’ she says reading off the map. ‘And you can pose with the signs and send them to your mother.’

‘See. The road trip is evolving,’ I tell her.

She studies the map but side-eyes me cautiously. ‘But then what about your Christmas? Did you have plans? You have to drive back. What about the fish?’

‘I can head back some time tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to impose on your family time anyway.’

‘Nonsense, you could have lunch with us. My dad has bought a giant turkey. You’re Steve’s honorary uncle anyway.’

I really am not but I am humbled by how easily that invite has been extended.

‘That’s if we ever move on from here. I’ve seen those videos of people in Germany who get stranded in the snow. They have to spend the night in their cars, the snowploughs have to dig them out,’ she says, taking another of my travel tissues. I didn’t know it was possible to blow your nose so dramatically.

‘That won’t happen.’

‘It could. That’s the laws of probability of stuff.’

I shake my head as she tries to talk math. ‘Well then, if we’re talking coulds and possibilities – what could have happened is that you could have left in your car and be broken down on this road. And then you’d be alone with a broken car, in the snow, without help, and be well and truly…’

‘Fucked?’

‘Bingo.’

‘Is that a mathematical term?’ I ask.

‘It is. I’m trademarking it.’

She breaks into a smile. ‘I wouldn’t be alone though, I would have had Steve.’ We turn around to see him staring at both of us, waiting. He’s been a very good boy, I think, but I still worry that we’ve not seen the effects of the eight raw sausages he gobbled down a while ago.

‘I made a promise to get Steve to your nieces and I will not let you down,’ I tell her.

She stops to look at me. ‘Let them down, not me.’ She looks down at her phone. ‘The next town is Salisbury. Maybe we stop there.’

‘What’s in Salisbury?’

‘A cathedral, I think. Stonehenge?’

My mouth drops open in shock. ‘Oh, the rocks that are stacked like Jenga?’ I say excitedly.