Page 56 of Break the Ice

I watch Phoebe busily take photos, and put a hand on her back. ‘Well, since we’re exchanging. I only had one gift. It’s for you,’ I tell her, handing her a hand-wrapped parcel a little sheepishly.

‘But you got me those cat handwarmers, Joshua,’ she says.

‘It’s something a bit extra. Don’t get too excited,’ I warn her.

She opens it smiling and looks at it from all angles. ‘Joshua, is this a bin for my car?’

‘A trash can.’

‘A bin.’

‘You hook it to the headrest and⁠—’

She leans over, laughing, but gives me a big kiss on the cheek. I notice Ben elbowing Flo in the ribs.

‘I love it. I have nothing for you,’ she says, but I don’t know how to tell her that this is the gift, all of this joy. Being here. With your family. And you.

‘Hold up, guys. One last gift.’ Adam suddenly appears at the door, holding a box wrapped in Christmas paper. I know, for sure, that Steve wouldn’t fit in there. He hands it to Freya and she opens it. It’s a box of dog treats.

‘Ha-hah… very funny, Daddy!’ she says sardonically, narrowing her eyes at him. But then Steve trots into view, sitting in the doorway like the excellent boy that he is. He immediately looks at me and I nod. These are good people, this is a good place, go with it.

The girls are completely speechless. ‘Did Grandpa get a dog?’ Freya asks.

‘No,’ her dad tells her. ‘This is our gift from your mummy and me.’

‘A DOOGGGG!’ Skye screams. Steve’s eyes open widely, his ears flattening and he takes a step back. ‘Where… but… HOW?’

Phoebe drops to her knees and he sees her and trots over to get a pat. ‘Come and say hello, girls,’ she says. ‘Nice and gently…’

Norah is filming the moment when the girls come over and Freya throws her arms around Steve’s neck. Skye strokes him, with tears in her eyes. ‘He’s our dog? We have a dog?’

Adam nods. The whole family pause for a moment to take this in as Steve looks to me again. See? I told you. Skye’s eyes are full of tears, and Phoebe is looking over at her, worry framing her face.

‘Skye, honey. Are you OK?’ Phoebe suddenly asks as Skye rubs her eyes, repeatedly.

She sneezes loudly, about five times in a row. She nods and hugs Steve again. Phoebe looks at me, then back at Norah. ‘Norah, have your girls been around a lot of dogs?’

Norah looks at her sister and then back at her daughter, whose eyes are bright pink and very puffy. Possibly not.

TWENTY-SEVEN

PHOEBE

I’m not allergic to anything, except stupid people – you can’t write that down on medical forms, but I once went out with a man who thought evolution was a myth and I swear he made me come out in hives. It turns out though that little Skye is allergic to dogs, badly enough that we’ve had to keep her and Steve away from each other and Dad had to go through his ancient medicine stash and find some antihistamine still in date to take away the puffiness.

‘Did they really not know?’ Flo asks me, walking next to me, her arm looped through mine, as our family stroll along this wintry beach, the kids doing their best to run against the cutting breeze and keep up with Steve and his impressive canine gallop.

‘I guess not, otherwise a dog is a pretty cruel gift,’ I say and she leans over laughing, her hair blowing over her face. It’s dimmed the surprise of Steve a little, but it wasn’t a bad morning all round and the pooch got plenty of love from lots of new people. Theo and Elijah also got a half-term break to Euro Disney and I got earrings, a couple of good books and a gorgeous earthenware jug from Ibiza, which made me extremely happy because good rounded jugs are hard to find and, yes, I did say that out loud. ‘Thank you for my Dryrobe by the way,’ I say, pulling a pose. ‘I look and feel so middle-aged.’

‘You cow. But aren’t you toasty?’ she says. I nod reluctantly, looking at us both. We now match in practicality and warmth. I want to be you when I grow up but I reckon I still have a few more years. ‘Especially on a day like this, can you believe it? It’s stunning,’ she continues.

We stop to look at the beach. Dad can’t remember a time it’s ever snowed here, and the combination of the snow against the sand and the waves is sending us all into a frenzy of photos, the kids running around making patterns with their footprints.

‘You know, you’re an excellent sister for doing what you did. For getting Steve down here, for battling all that snow,’ Flo tells me. Flo is the sincerest of all the siblings, the one who doesn’t try to mother me.

I give her my best cheesy grin. ‘Thank you, Flo. I am glad my efforts have been noted.’

‘But that’s just very you, eh? You’re never going to let a bit of snow get in the way of proving yourself to Norah.’