Page 38 of Break the Ice

‘Or, I live on a farm. I have somewhere you can stay for the night until the roads are clear,’ Wendy says. ‘It’s small but at least it’s a base until you can get moving again.’

I turn to Phoebe, smiling. ‘How about it? It’ll be better than getting stuck on the roads, getting nowhere.’ I put a hand on her shoulder to try to show my sincerity and she looks at me, sighing.

‘I guess,’ she says, pouting and looking at her watch.

‘Well, if you’re staying, you can both have a drink! What will you have?’ one of the ladies asks.

‘Get me a big Christmas cocktail, something with cranberry,’ Phoebe says, grinning.

‘A half pint of whatever’s on tap, maybe something local?’ I say. Wendy nods at me, impressed. ‘Just excuse me for a moment, while I head to the bathroom,’ I say, standing up. But as I do, Wendy bursts out laughing. I turn around swiftly to see her pointing, the focus of her humour being my ass. Really? ‘What is it? Why are you all laughing?’

Phoebe’s eyes read horror. ‘I’m sorry. I thought you’d keep your coat on and no one would see.’

‘See what?’ I twist my back around, reaching for the fabric and look down to see a word embroidered across my butt cheeks. ‘What is that?’ I say. Steve is staring at me strangely because I really do look like a dog chasing its tail.

‘I think it says JUICY,’ Barbara says, giggling. ‘Now let’s get you drunk enough so we can find out if that’s true or not.’

SEVENTEEN

PHOEBE

‘It was either that, Gymshark leggings or my star-print pyjama bottoms,’ I tell Joshua as he drives. Given it’s −3 degrees outside, I don’t think this is a time for modesty. I’m literally wearing a thermal vest as a top and my hair has started to frizz and curl beyond control, which is why I am not taking off my hat.

‘I’m just saying, you could have said something. I could have tied a sweater around my waist,’ he says grumpily. ‘Or remained seated.’

‘And then wet yourself in the pub… yes, I think that would have been a better solution, Joshua,’ I scold him. ‘Anyway, we’ve got you some replacements, so stop your whining,’ I add, turning away so he can’t see me secretly smiling.

As the lovely Wendy has offered us accommodation for this evening, we have stopped off at Lidl to get supplies before it closed, and scoured the middle aisle for something suitable for Joshua to wear. He won’t have a Juicy butt but is now the proud wearer of some khaki combats, the model for which was a middle-aged man with a silver beard. I think, with all the pockets on them, they’re meant for fishing. ‘Take the next left, the farm is up here.’

Joshua crawls along the road at no more than 5mph, in high gear, super careful at every turn. He’s the sort of man who threads the wheel through his hands, no arm-crossing here. The ladies weren’t kidding – while some of the snow has been pushed to the sides of the road, the slush and ice still make driving really hazardous, and I can’t imagine doing this all the way down to Devon. Maybe it was the safest thing to do, to set up camp here for a night. We could still make it down there in the morning. I see a rickety hand-painted sign:

Clarence Wells Farm

‘Here, hook a left down this lane.’ The lane is dark, lit up only by a few lanterns, but as we approach the main farm building I see Josh’s face light up again. This boy really doesn’t get out much, does he?

‘Oh my gosh…’ he says, leaning over the wheel to look at the farmhouse.

He may be right; it’s like a Dickens novel, an old house with a thatched roof and leaded windows, framed by bushes, barn buildings and an open drive. The house is lit with Christmas lights and there’s a wonderfully bright glow, lots of life in the windows.

‘I hope we’re not intruding,’ Joshua says, looking at the people busying around indoors. ‘She seems like a nice lady but if she’s got guests…’

‘Then we pay our dues, we can help her peel vegetables and wrap gifts,’ I tell him.

He looks at me, nodding in agreement. As soon as he stops the car, the front door opens and Wendy is there, towels and blankets in her arms. I open my door to get out and greet her.

‘You found me!’ she says.

‘We did. Wendy, this is amazing! You live here?’ I ask her.

Steve jumps over my seat and gallops out into the massive courtyard, leaping through the snow. Josh joins us, looking up at the house, still in awe.

‘I do. You’ll have to forgive me, inside is chaos, but I do have somewhere else where you guys can have your pit stop.’

She has boots on and a big longline parka. She heads towards the barn. Oh my, she’s putting us in a manger. Hey, at least it’s a clear night, the stars are out, the kings should be able to find us. However, she walks around the back and we follow her and see a small shepherd’s hut. It’s painted in sage, and has a small wooden staircase up to the front. Fairy lights hang off the window panes. The snow nestles in the curves of the corrugated tin roof. Puffs of smoke come out of the chimney.

‘We normally don’t hire this out over Christmas, but seeing as you’re in need…’ she says, putting a key into the door. As we pop our heads inside, I smile with relief. There’s a log burner, a small wooden kitchen counter with a Belfast sink and kettle. As I peer in further, to the left is a bathroom with a shiny copper bathtub, and then to the right a double bed by a giant window that looks out to the snowy fields and the night sky. ‘My husband started a fire to warm it up, and here’s some linens and towels. We even put a spare dog bed in here for Steve,’ she says, pointing to it sitting by the burner.

‘Wendy,’ I say, turning to her. ‘This is too much.’