Page 63 of Break the Ice

‘Yeah, me too. This… all of this has been the best day. It really has.’

I look at his transparent phone case. He’s kept the joke from his Christmas cracker.

‘You also got a wetsuit,’ I remind him.

‘For all those times I’ll go swimming in the Thames,’ he replies.

‘Right?’ I say.

He pauses for a moment. ‘Could I ask a favour though?’

I nod.

‘Can I go and say goodbye to Steve?’

Of course. I smile and nod, and rise to my feet unsteadily, and we head into the kitchen, where Steve is asleep in the corner by a log burner. The journey, the run by the ocean, the Christmas dinner and all its trimmings have done him in. Despite having a shiny new collar and a bundle of new toys, he still only clings to his trusted Martin, the monkey that he’s had since the start of our journey together. He perks up and his tail starts to wag.

‘Hey buddy,’ Joshua says, sitting down to pet him. I also crouch down, and Steve nestles between the two of us, sighing. I can’t quite tell if that sigh means he’s fed up of us or he’s blissfully content. He looks up at Josh. ‘Yeah, there’s no way you’re a Cookie. You’ll always be Steve,’ he says. Steve stands up and licks him on the cheek and I smile as Joshua flinches and laughs. ‘Dude…’ He bends down to look him in the eye. ‘Isn’t it weird that you can meet someone and feel immediately connected to them in some strange way?’

I let that sink in, both of us stroking Steve so he falls back asleep. It’s blissfully silent and cosy in this kitchen.

‘I have to go, Phoebe,’ Joshua whispers without looking at me.

‘I know… thank you,’ I reply, trying to not let this strange emotion overwhelm. ‘For everything though. It’s been⁠—’

‘Emotional,’ he says, returning to that strange Jason Statham accent that doesn’t quite suit his geeky face.

‘You can talk. You cried over potatoes, Joshua.’

He looks shocked at the accusation. ‘I didn’t cry. I was just overwhelmed by the glow of the moment.’

‘You cried.’

‘Steve, attack her for me, please.’

‘Rude. Steve, do a big Stonehenge poo on him please.’ We both look down at Steve and then at each other and laugh. ‘He would never. He loves us both too much.’

Joshua looks at me and sighs contently. This was good, whatever this was, whatever it could be. He was like the gift I didn’t think I needed. And we got Steve here, together, through snow, darkness and country lane. We did that together. And now I don’t know how I feel about our quest coming to a finish. I really don’t.

THIRTY

JOSHUA

London, 27 December

‘I hope you’re picking that up!’ a voice booms at me as I stroll down the path in this London park, the snow and ice slowly thawing on the grass and off the trees. It was a lovely walk up to this point.

‘Of course. I was just letting him… finish,’ I say. Because I’m not being an irresponsible dog owner, it’s just he’s still mid-squat. I can’t catch it as it comes out his butt. I bend down as the grumpy man eyeballs me and I try to smile because it’s still Christmas, no? It’s still a time to be merry? Steve looks over at me. Is that dude watching you poop? That’s weird. I know, Steve. I know.

It’s weirder because you’re not even my dog. I got a call earlier this morning from Phoebe. She’s back in London but had a work party emergency, so she asked if I would come round to her flat, walk our good friend Steve and spend the afternoon with him. I’m not going to lie, it felt good to see her name on my phone. After we said goodbye at Christmas, I left her house, I hugged her, her dad made me some sandwiches for the road and I drove back to London that night. I like her, I like her a lot, but maybe it was a good idea to step back from the frenetic feeling of the day and not get too swept away by it. Because for all her wild and brazen authenticity, and for all the love she obviously pours into people, she and I are still very very different. So coming back to London felt like the snap back into reality that I needed. After all that feasting and fun, it felt good to return to some peace, to some of the best nights’ sleep I’ve had in the last few months. I’ll attribute that to the large amount of ham I ate.

But I guess we left things open enough for her to reach out without hesitation. I like that she’s asking for favours and I am happy to oblige. For one, I like the peace and green of a London park, and it beats sitting around in Norah’s house and swimming in my post-Christmas slump. Since Devon, I think I’ve been suffering from some sort of festive hangover, going from being around the Allbrights to being back in London, talking to Norah’s fish and being on first-name terms with the boss man who runs their local corner store. Dare I say it, I think I missed Steve. Not sure I miss the poop though. I wait for him to finish, then find a trash can, and sanitise my hands thoroughly.

‘What breed?’ a lady asks me, jogging on the spot in her running gear and woolly grey hat. She stops and takes out an earphone to speak to me properly. She looks at Steve with kind eyes. ‘The dog, what breed?’

‘I’m not sure,’ I say hesitantly, looking to the ground in case he’s pooped again and she’s here to shout at me. ‘I’m walking him for a friend.’

She bends down to pet him. ‘He’s very cute, aren’t you, boy?’