Page 93 of Break the Ice

‘Let’s look at you,’ she says, turning around and looking me up and down. ‘Swish biscuits, Mr Joshua.’ I’ll take that as a compliment. ‘Let me help you with your tie,’ she says, coming closer to me, putting both hands to my chest, and straightening my collar upwards. She also smells sublime, like jasmine and limes. I watch as she adjusts the lengths of the tie and starts looping it around itself.

‘You’re good at that,’ I tell her, trying not to show that every sinew in me is tense from having her near.

‘Five years of wearing a tie for school,’ she says, adjusting the knot around my neck. Her fingers brush my skin and I feel the goosebumps come up on my arm. She runs a hand down the length of my tie to straighten it and then steps back. ‘While I’m here… I have a gift for you.’ She hands me a little black box. ‘They were from the drugstore. They were super cheap but I thought I had to.’ I open the box to see a set of cufflinks in the shape of pawprints. I laugh. ‘I was walking through the streets before, thinking how strange that a week ago you and I were stuck in the snow with our bestie, Steve, and now we’re here. How things have snowballed…’

‘I like what you did there,’ I whisper. ‘I love them. Thank you.’

‘Think of them as payment for me getting my hair professionally conditioned for the first time in my life,’ she says, smiling, ruffling a hand through her curls. She puts the box down on my desk and gets one of the cufflinks out, but before she can help me put them on, her gaze falls on the noticeboard over my desk, full of photos, old tickets, postcards and such. Her expression softens. ‘That postcard.’

‘Oh, it’s of one of my favourite paintings at the Guggenheim. It’s a Picasso. Woman with Yellow Hair. Did you see it while you were there?’

Phoebe looks at me, not quite smiling.

‘Hey, she looks like you,’ I tell her. But she doesn’t reply. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I said she looked like a surrealist dream. ‘In the best way possible?’

‘Joshua,’ she whispers, exhaling gently. Why is she so still, serious? I can’t quite read her. Is she nervous? About tonight? ‘Car’s waiting,’ she mumbles. Not before leaning over and kissing me gently on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’

But again, she doesn’t reply.

FORTY-THREE

PHOEBE

It’s just a coincidence. That’s all. Because I don’t believe in signs. I don’t believe in all that fate stuff when it comes to love. I don’t believe in serendipity, even though we drank hot chocolates from there. It’s just a postcard. Block all of that from your mind because tonight is important for Joshua. I can’t intertwine my own feelings into proceedings. I need to ignore how dashing he looks in his new threads and the way that Lyle fella downstairs sorted out his hair. And I need to stop thinking this is some romantic date. It’s all fake, a meeting of allyship where I’m supporting a friend in need in case an old ex is mean to him. I’m like a shield. It’s all I am. It’s a New Year Eve’s party as well, so I am not the main character here. The main character is that big ball that’s going to drop at midnight. I’ve not even researched that properly. How does a ball drop? Does it explode into a big ball of glitter? I need to snap out of this daze I’m in and just get into party mode. I’ve got a dress to swish and cocktails to drink. There better be a great big bloody prawn ring at this thing.

‘Miss Phoebe, looking like a million dollars if I say so myself,’ Lenny says as he meets me at the door. We high-five and he winks at me. ‘You kids ready?’

Joy and Bob are already on the pavement. Joy, elegant in a wrap tuxedo jumpsuit, her hair loose in waves around her shoulders. Trayvon offers her a hand into the car. Bob, all old-school tux glamour, waves up to us at the door. ‘See you kids there?’

Joshua puts a thumb up at his dad, then turns to look at me. I guess that means we’re taking the kids’ car.

‘Guys, do you think my hair makes me look like a parrot?’ Maddie asks. ‘Now with the feathers on my dress I think I look like a bird⁠—’

‘Like a cockatoo?’ Josh says.

‘JOSH!’ Maddie cries.

I laugh, looking down at the feathers on the end of her bell sleeves. She looks like a very stylish pillow fight but I don’t know how to say that without it sounding uncomplimentary. She stands at the mirror adjusting her diamond headband and putting on some extra lip gloss. There is something very boujie and cool about her compared to Josh’s very acute angles, and I love that. It’s been a lovely afternoon getting to chat with her, bearing witness to her very complicated skincare routines but also hearing the pride in how she speaks of her brother.

‘Mads, we gotta hustle,’ Josh tells her. ‘The hair is fine, the lip gloss is shiny, you look good… can we already?’

She sticks her tongue out at him and throws a white wool coat over her shoulders. Outside, the snow has started to clear a little and there’s a dark-blue starry sky above us, but lordy, it is cold, especially as I don’t have any tights on. Joshua’s hand comes out to lead me down the stairs and I smile. I take it and grip his fingers as we walk to the pavement and the waiting car. Inside, Lenny is playing some very demure classical music as we arrange ourselves in the spacious back seats. This feels super swish. The whole afternoon has felt swish. Earlier, someone moved all my curls out of the way and massaged my scalp, and now I’m in a fancy limo, bottles of water in the door. Outside the streets of New York are a snowy, dreamlike blur, the lights flickering in reds and greens and ambers against the brightness of the snow. Normally on a night out, this is an Uber, sometimes a bus if it’s the end of the month. And I hate to use the word princess because that is something I’ve never really subscribed to, but it is what this feels like. It’s fancy pants on ice. I say that but I’m still wearing a Primark thong under this dress. It feels important to acknowledge my peasant roots.

‘So next stop, the Waldorf Astoria,’ Lenny says and I realise I’ve not really done my homework on knowing where this party is. That sounds like a fancy-ass hotel that I’ve seen in films. I know there’s a dress code, I know the ex is going to be there, but I’ve not even seen an invitation.

‘So guys… I need to ask. Exactly how fancy is this party?’ I say. Both of them are looking incredibly calm. ‘Like are we talking diplomats, Ferrero Rocher posh. Will I have to curtsey? Fight off the paps?’

Maddie giggles and Joshua looks at me curiously. I really hope your country has access to Ferrero Rocher. If not, I feel sad for you all. ‘It’ll just be very Patton,’ Josh explains. ‘A way for them to flash their cash and be a bit bling. Jed and Inga do this every year. They theme it, they invite a whole load of finance bros and the evening is an exercise in⁠—’

‘Extra,’ Maddie adds. ‘They’re super rich. It’s a Hamptons and yacht aesthetic. Avery is one of three sisters – the others are Anya and Arielle and if you think that feels a bit Kardashian then you would be right.’ Josh nods, clenching his teeth. ‘They’ve called this year’s “The Snow Ball”,’ she says with a dramatic swish of her hands. ‘I swear, I bet the snow is their doing – to add extra effect they’ve taken control of the weather.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ Joshua says, chuckling to himself.

‘Hey – we need to take bets on what will be there. I reckon there’ll be fake snow for days, ice sculptures, a real polar bear,’ Maddie exclaims.

‘That you can feed and take photos with,’ Joshua adds. ‘And Ice Cube in the corner, providing the entertainment, rapping to all the old New York dears in their evening gowns.’