Page 47 of Break the Ice

My heart starts to beat fast, almost out of my chest, as I look at that picture, that message, the kiss on the end. I said that to her once, when she was toasting s’mores in my family home, and she told me it was a terrible pun. She’s stolen my family tradition. I don’t think she’s allowed to do that. She should have asked first. Do I reply? I have lots of pictures I could send, too many. Maybe I send her one of those. Lots of the snow, some of a copper bathtub, some of a Zumba group in an English village pub. Actually, I have ones of s’mores, but Phoebe’s in them. Phoebe, who looks like some wild animal devouring its prey, the chocolate all round her mouth. I smile at that picture. Phoebe never smiles in a photo, she pulls faces and poses and laughs so big you can see she’s still got her wisdom teeth. She did that a lot last night. It wasn’t this intense, physical sex. There was fun and laughing and talking through it and it made me feel safe, not judged, cared for. I remember sex with Avery. We developed a pattern over time so we knew what the other liked, but there were times it did feel serious, lacking in fun. I decide I’ll ignore Avery’s message since I have no idea how I’m meant to respond. But I see those three dots appear that tell me she’s sending a follow-up message. It’s because I opened and read it. I really need to change my settings.

I’ll see you at New Year’s. So excited you’ll be back in New York xx

My shoulders slump. We haven’t been in touch much since last year, but sometimes I’ll be getting on with life and she’ll send something and it will floor me. A birthday message, another when my grandma died, a like on a post or story that tells me she’s still watching even though I’ve moved halfway across the world. Now, at New Year’s, our worlds will collide again. Why do I have to go to this party? I want to ask Wendy if I can move into this hut, for ever. And just like that, the mellow festive feeling disappears. What irony that she should message so soon after I’ve had sex with Phoebe. Like she knew. Like the universe is reminding me of everything I lost. And a confused feeling fizzes to the surface. Out of nowhere, you broke me, Avery. You scooped me out and left me hollow and I’ve been spending the last year remembering what it’s like to feel human again. And I feel a tear roll down my cheek. It’s the cold. It is. But out of the darkness, a very good dog comes up to me and sidles up to my leg, and sits there patiently, looking up at me to check that I’m OK. To tell me that I’m not alone.

‘Should I message her back, Steve?’ He looks up at me and then shakes himself all over to rid his fur of the wet cold. Thought so. I bend down and give him another treat as he cocks his head to look at me. I guess you were also abandoned by people you thought would love you for ever. Yet look at you now. We should start a club. ‘Merry Christmas, buddy. Shall we go find your Aunt Phoebe?’ I put the lead on him and he pulls me back towards the hut, dragging me through the snow, back into the warm.

TWENTY-THREE

PHOEBE

‘You look… cosy at least,’ Joshua says as I stand in the middle of the hut with my bags, squinting with fatigue at being up at this hour. Bloody four thirty in the bloody morning? I only get up this early to get on flights taking me to foreign climes and sun loungers. But now it is cold and dark and I’m not sure I care it’s Christmas Day because it doesn’t feel like that yet, not at all. It would seem Joshua is a morning person though. How? I am knackered. We were at it for a while, so it’s a surprise to me that he’s already been out with the dog, made a fire, woken me up with the whistling kettle to make me a coffee, and done things like wipe down surfaces and put things in the bin. I am not a morning person. I’m like a grumpy squirrel and so I’ve not really got dressed. I’ve had a quick wash, I grabbed a beanie and a thick borg fleece jumper, and will not be taking off my pyjama bottoms or brushing my hair. I am only going to see family; they will not be surprised by this look at all. I bend down and pet Steve. ‘Merry Christmas, Steve. Did Santa come for you because he seemed to bypass me this year…’

‘It’s because you’re on the move, he couldn’t keep track of your whereabouts,’ Joshua explains.

‘Or maybe it’s because I’m not on the nice list.’

‘Well, if that’s the case then neither am I,’ Joshua says, looking at me. Are we referring to the sex? Are we discussing that now? Because my eyes are still learning how to blink. I watch him quietly as he turns to put away the last of the cutlery, then glance around. Bar going round with the vacuum cleaner, the place is spotless. He passes me a pen. ‘Here, sign your name. I’ve written Wendy a Christmas card to say thank you. I also stole a tin of your Roses to give her.’

It’s not even light, how can he still have such impeccable manners at this time in the morning? I readjust my eyes and do as I’m told, and also sign Steve’s name with a little pawprint for fun. Joshua looks at it and smiles and then seals the envelope.

‘I’ve checked all the websites and found a clear route down and apparently it should only take us just over two hours,’ he says.

‘You checked? When? Did you sleep at all?’ I ask.

‘I had a strong coffee. I think when I took Steve out for a pee the cold woke me up. Like an ice bath,’ he explains. He does look very ready for action in his fishing pants, parka and hat, like he’s ready to climb a mountain. When he woke me up this morning with a coffee in bed, he had rosy cheeks like a very merry elf. It’s Christmas Day, Phoebe! Merry Christmas! Time to rise and shine! I think I swore in reply, mainly because I forgot where I was. I don’t think I’ve ever been woken up like that in my life. When Norah used to get me up for school, she would open the curtains and then throw an old sock at my face to rouse me.

I watch him as he folds all the blankets we used, pinching them at the corners and smoothing them out. I had trouble remembering how to brush my teeth earlier, so the fact that he has powers of coordination confounds me. ‘I don’t know if I’ve wished you Merry Christmas yet, Joshua?’ I say.

He laughs. ‘Yeah, I did notice you said it to the dog before me.’

That I did. To make amends, I go over and hug him, wrapping my borg around him, resting my head on his shoulder to take a three-second micro nap. ‘Merry Christmas Day to you, lovely Joshua.’ It’s a good hug but I think it’s because of all the fleece involved. I like how he’s not totally freaked out by it. I kiss him on the cheek and he blushes. His expression is unreadable; he looks almost tearful at my show of affection. I push him gently on the shoulder.

‘A kiss didn’t make you blush last night,’ I tell him.

‘Ssssh!’ he says, putting a finger to his lips.

‘In case Steve hears?’ I say, grinning. But I pause to gauge his reaction. Maybe he’s keeping so busy because last night was a mistake. He’s embarrassed. He’s not keen for a repeat. Who knows? But I’m too tired to work it all out or even feel disappointed. We have a much bigger job to do anyway. ‘Come on you, let’s get this Christmas show on the road.’

He smiles, gathers the bags and heads outside. I open the door but Steve bolts out and I freeze in a contorted running position, knowing I shouldn’t scream at this time of the morning. This would be a crappy time to actually lose the dog.

‘It’s cool,’ Joshua tells me in a loud whisper. ‘I let him off the lead before and he came back.’

‘You let him off the lead?’ I say, slightly aghast.

‘I think we’ve established a relationship of trust. He knows we care about him.’

I smile. He cares about Steve. I mean, I care about him too, but it’s sweet that he hardly knows this dog and yet he wants to do right by him. I watch as he takes the majority of our belongings to the car, still jolly and purposeful, while I drag my feet, carrying just the one bag of gifts, because it’s dark and also really quite fricking cold. This isn’t like an ice bath, this is like deepest darkest Antarctica. I feel that in my kidneys. I lift my feet over the snow, counting stars. God, it’s so clear, so bright. By the time I trudge over to the car, he’s already de-icing the windscreen. He’s very practical, isn’t he? He’s got a very sober head screwed on. Mine is less so. I don’t have an ice scraper. I have an old gym membership card I use for dealing with ice.

‘Go and drop off the key,’ he says. ‘Leave the gift on the porch.’

I’ve been given tasks. I silently salute him and do as I’m told, flailing in the darkness, looking down as Steve trots next to me. Do I pretend that perhaps I’m a Game of Thrones character, edging my way beyond the wall on a dangerous quest? Maybe I do. Steve is my trusted companion who will protect me. I hope. By the time we get back to the car, he’s still with me. I open the door. He’s still not sure about the car, but he sees Joshua and hears Stevie Wonder and carefully steps in. I push his furry butt in. He smells his blankets, then sits there looking at me. ‘Good boy, Steve.’ I walk around to the other side of the car, get in and sit down, shivering slightly to adjust to the temperature, unsure whether to make a joke about my nipples. ‘Why are your lights not on?’ I ask Joshua as we sit there in the glow of the dashboard.

‘I was going to wait until we’re off the farm so we don’t wake anyone. If I turn my lights on, they’ll shine straight into the house,’ he tells me.

‘You make us sound like spies, following someone,’ I say.

‘It’ll just be until I turn the car around.’