Page 32 of Break the Ice

‘Who’s Steve? Phoebe, have you stopped halfway on this journey to shag someone? Seriously?’ Norah blasts her over the phone.

‘It’s fine. He’s a friend. It’s all good. We’re making good progress… BYE!’ She hangs up and immediately launches herself into the snow on the ground to hug Steve. To hell with it – I do the same, and she pulls me into this dog sandwich, her hands grabbing on to my coat, both of us not bothered at all that we’re getting more and more drenched, doing a strange dance move on the floor in celebration. Steve doesn’t seem sure what it all means but he licks Phoebe’s face. She rests her head against his shivering body, planting kisses on the top of his head. ‘You daft pooch. Never do that again, are you safe? Did you hurt yourself?’ Steve looks a bit confused by the love-bombing but allows Phoebe to release him and check him out. I notice the way she hugs him, the sort of hug that’s tight, full of feeling, and I can’t help but smile. She notices. ‘Were you running away from the American man? I know his accent is weird but I think he means well.’

I think he was running away from her, but I won’t bring that up now because I like reading all that relief and joy on her face, to watch how she shows him no anger, no harm, she just wanted him safe and well.

‘We should get him in the car, warm him up,’ she tells me as she opens the door to the back seat. She bundles him in and wraps him in blankets.

‘What about you?’ I ask her. ‘You’re wet and cold and…’ I naturally worry for her welfare, but also the fact that she’s going to get the interior of the car wet.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she says, shrugging me off.

‘I’m not sure I’ll be, though. I’m soaked through. Do you have any clothes I can borrow? Maybe some pants?’

She pauses for a moment, before realising I’m not asking to wear her underwear. ‘Grab the purple bag from the boot,’ she says.

I do as I’m told, passing her the bag and then head over to the driver’s-side door and undress myself slowly.

Phoebe looks at me through squinted eyes. ‘What the hell are you doing? You will freeze.’

‘I don’t want to get the car wet,’ I say. She watches as I pull down my jeans and stand there in my underwear. ‘Could you look away for a moment?’ I ask her.

‘You taking those off too?’ she asks, smiling at Steve with widened eyes. ‘Am I in for a treat?’

‘No! But…’ I can feel myself blushing as she laughs.

‘Just hurry up. Here,’ she says, throwing a pair of black sweatpants at me. ‘I think these will fit you.’ I’m not sure I care if they do, given the way the cold has started to sting at my skin. I roll them up carefully, sighing as the fleece lining touches my skin. I hope she didn’t hear that. ‘Also, I’ve got some fluffy socks.’ She throws them on to the seat. They are leopard print. Again, I do not care. ‘Now get in, start the engine for a moment, you’re letting all the cold in.’

She has a point. Plus it’s really starting to snow now and it’s settling all over my hair and shoulders. I leave all my wet gear outside for a moment and do as I’m told, putting my hands to the vents to heat them up. I watch Phoebe through the rear-view mirror as she stuffs Steve’s mouth full of treats. I’m not sure we should be giving that dog any more food, seeing what happened at the big rocks, but I don’t think she needs the lecture after what just happened. And I like watching her snuggle into the dog, how she closes her eyes, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her cheek, how she shows this animal she’s only just met instant affection. However, she then sits up and rummages through her bag, then takes off her wet clothes so she’s just sitting there in her bra, and arches her hips to take off her leggings.

Her body shivers a little. I see a friendship bracelet on her left wrist, the curve of her collarbone. The cold raises goosebumps on her arm. She catches my eye in the mirror. ‘Oi, oi… Americano!’

I immediately look away. ‘I was just… checking in on the dog.’

‘Whatever,’ she says, laughing, pulling some plaid pants on. ‘Perv.’

‘I am not!’ I argue. Did she just wink at me?

However, the moment is suddenly interrupted by a sharp rapping at my door. I respond with an alarmingly high-pitched shriek. I open my window to see a man there, possibly a farmer, wearing a big coat and boots.

‘You lot broken down?’ he asks.

I look out the window at a Land Rover parked close by. ‘Oh God, no. We were on a walk and there was a situation with our doggy and we’re…’

He scrunches his face up to hear me talk, trying to get past my accent. ‘You’re dogging? In this weather?’

I look back at the dog. ‘Yeah? I’m from out of town, I thought it would be nice to see Stonehenge and take in the view.’

He notices Phoebe in a state of half-undress.

‘Christ on a bike… it’s Christmas Eve and it’s snowing like a bastard. You could have got snowed in. You lot need to give it a rest,’ he says sharply.

‘Us lot? Sorry… I… We weren’t doing anything bad,’ I say, wondering if he’s being slightly xenophobic.

‘Then why are your trousers on the floor, out here?’ he says, pointing to the pile on the snow.

‘They were wet. I slipped in the ice and…’

‘Go home and have sex in the warm.’