Page 37 of Break the Ice

Heck, what’s some life-sharing with a bunch of seniors I don’t even know. ‘I had a girlfriend, we’d been together since high school and we were supposed to get married last year and she called it off.’

There is a mass inhalation of air. That’s usually the reaction I get when I say this out loud so I don’t say it anymore. Not to anyone on my team, not even to someone like Zhang, mainly because of the shame, and the fact that, nearly a year later, I still reel from it occasionally.

‘What a complete and utter bitch!’ one of them says drunkenly and I laugh because everyone I know has been far too polite about the situation. ‘So she was American?’

‘She was.’

‘And that’s why you came over here?’

I have to admit that I like the group intuition here. There’s a strange sense of security about it. ‘I needed a fresh start, escape, space.’

I think about Stonehenge, before we lost Steve, running over the snowy hills with him and feeling the bracing air in my lungs, this blank slate right before me and running straight into it. It was a good feeling, one I’d not felt in a while.

‘So it looks like someone has a fan club already,’ Phoebe says, appearing at the table with a tray of hot drinks. ‘He’s a handsome son-of-a-bitch, eh?’

I sit up as she says that, and a few of the older ladies giggle. Phoebe senses what she’s said and elbows one of them. ‘Oi, oi… I was talking about the dog, not Clark Kent!’

I think back to something my mom once said and look down, smiling. ‘I didn’t know what coffee you wanted so I got you an Americano, naturally. Chips are on the way,’ she says, putting a jug of milk and sugar sachets on the table. She looks around at all the women crowding round. ‘What have I missed?’

‘Nothing,’ Wendy says. ‘Just finding out this young man’s story.’

I look at them all while Phoebe stirs sugar into her coffee, and put a finger to my lips. The last thing I need is the third degree from Phoebe for the rest of this car trip.

‘You single, love?’ Wendy asks her.

‘Surprisingly, yes,’ she says, posing with her hands under her chin. Wendy laughs and sits down, hopefully not to do a touch of matchmaking in her highly drunken state. ‘So what’s your story then?’

‘I’m having fun, Wendy. I’m twenty-five and I live in London. I’m a bit of a party girl to be honest.’

‘But doesn’t that get boring?’ Barbara asks.

‘On the contrary…’ Phoebe says, making all the ladies laugh. I catch Wendy’s eye. See? Pretty but zero direction. It’d be like dating a pigeon who could fly off at any given moment. ‘So what’s your story, ladies?’

‘Zumba buddies.’

‘So you like a bounce,’ Phoebe jokes. They all laugh and Wendy looks over to me, winking. Yeah, she keeps pastries in her pockets. She’s dramatic, disorganised. ‘You all look like trouble.’

‘Yep, that’s one word for it. Can we buy you two some drinks?’ one of them asks. ‘We’ve got a tab going.’

‘Oh, we’re good with coffee,’ I say. ‘We’re driving and trying to warm up. We’ve just been on a walk. I saw Stonehenge! It was awesome!’

Barbara nods at me like you would nod at a toddler showing you a terrible picture they’ve done in crayon.

‘Yeah, we’re just here to warm up and head off again. We’ve got to get down to Devon by Christmas Day,’ Phoebe explains.

The ladies all laugh and Phoebe looks at me, clearly wondering if she’s missed the memo.

‘You’ll be lucky, lovely,’ Barbara informs us ‘They’ve closed the A354, the A303 near Chicklade – so many accidents, and so many smaller roads can’t cope with the snow.’

Phoebe sits up. ‘Can we get through via Bournemouth?’

‘You’d have to check, love…’ one of them says.

I glance over to Phoebe. That buoyancy that usually defines her is fading; she looks weighed down by disappointment about our mission failing. Or maybe it’s because she’s still stranded with me. ‘When do you think the roads might be clear?’ I ask them.

‘Who knows? It’s Christmas! Not sure if they can get the staff,’ Barbara says.

‘Maybe we should stay here for a few more drinks?’ I joke, trying to lighten her mood.