Page 48 of Break the Ice

I look out on the path behind us. I only see black. He puts the car in reverse and creeps back towards the fence but I suddenly hear a thud, not a loud thud, but definitely something falling to the ground. He sits bolt upright and we both look at each other.

‘Maybe it was just a bush?’ I tell him, panicked.

‘What if it was something? Someone? A cat?’

‘Shit, maybe you ran over Santa? An elf…’ I joke. He looks at me sternly. ‘There was no one else on that courtyard, chill,’ I say.

He turns off the engine and we both get out of the car to see what the damage is. Please don’t be a sentient creature, I think. Remember that time that American bloke came to stay and he killed a sheep, Wendy? But as we approach the back of the car, I see that it may be worse. I open my mouth and look at Joshua. He widens his eyes.

‘Mate, you decapitated Frosty!’ I say in a loud whisper. Lying there on the floor is a snowman’s head. It’s a terrible accident; he’s lost his hands, nose, a large chunk of his icy skull. Joshua drops to the floor by the glow of the brake lights to pick up his head.

‘Oh my gosh, oh my gosh…’ The way he swears without actually swearing makes a wave of hysteria rise up in me. ‘Help me, we’ve got to fix this.’

‘Fix it how?’ I say.

‘Help me smooth him over,’ he says, perching the head back on the snowman and scooping the snow up like some sort of adhesive to fix him.

‘But my hands will get cold,’ I tell him.

‘I literally bought you those cat handwarmers. Where are they?’

‘In my bag. I don’t know… I didn’t think we’d be making snowmen, did I?’ I say, using the sleeves of my fleece instead to try to assist. ‘What are you doing with his chin? Why have you given him a butt-chin?’

‘I’m contouring his face,’ he explains.

‘He’s not a Kardashian,’ I say, trying not to laugh.

That produces a smile, but he still looks frantic, trying to give the snowman shape. It’s reconstructive surgery in the dark and the quiet, trying not to wake up anyone in the house. ‘Where’s his nose?’ Joshua asks, dropping to the ground.

‘I don’t know,’ I say, exasperated. This feels like he’s accusing me of stealing it. I dig around in the snow with my feet in the darkness. Who bloody knows where it’s gone? ‘Hold up…’ I open up the boot and root through one of the shopping bags. Steve pops his head up at the commotion. I grab a carrot from the Tesco bag. ‘And here…’ I place some of the antlers I bought on the snowman’s head. ‘I will sacrifice my festive look for this fella here.’ I arrange the coals of his smile, then find some twigs on the ground.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Eyebrows.’

‘No.’

‘Can we give him nipples?’

‘Also, no.’ I smile to see him so panicked over a snowman. It means the urge to wind him up is far too strong.

‘How does he look?’ he says, as both of us step back to look at him. His bum-chin makes him look like a giant bowling skittle with a face. I scoop up some more snow to round out his head, give him cheeks and anchor the antlers in. I then take a strand of tinsel that was wrapped around Joshua’s three-foot tree and wind it round his neck to cover up his beheading scars. Joshua picks up some snow and keeps trying to pad out the body, while I stand back.

‘Seriously, how does he look?’ he asks, a look of worry still on his face.

I hand him the carrot and he pops it into place. ‘Is that maybe too big? It’s not in proportion to his face.’

‘Don’t say that, you’ll give him a complex,’ I say, nudging him. I take out the carrot and bite off the end, then put it back in and put the other half in my pocket. ‘There you go, instant nose job. Free of charge, Frosty.’

Joshua nods, approvingly.

‘Hey, say cheeses.’ I take a selfie of the three of us. ‘Well, high-five. I think we’ve saved this dude’s life. Doesn’t he look jazzy?’

‘It was just a frozen shoulder. I think he’ll be fine,’ he says.

‘Oh my, look at you being funny,’ I say, playfully slapping him. ‘I must be rubbing off on you.’

‘You actually did that last night,’ he says, looking over at me. And I laugh, a little too loudly, and cup my hands over my mouth. OK, so we can joke about it. I can do that. He takes my hand in his and tries to rub warmth back into it. ‘You’re an idiot, you know that?’