A Winter's Dream

by Sophie Claire

  They climbed over a fallen tree, their boots knocking the top layer of snow, then followed the path as it twisted sharply to the left, around the frozen pond, and looped back towards the cottage. The pristine snow squeaked with every step they took, and there was an awed hush, as if all the woodland creatures were watching, spellbound by the beauty of the snow – or the shock of what Alex had told her.

  They were probably just curled up trying to keep warm, she thought drily, and made a mental note to put out some nuts and seeds when she got home.

  ‘You’ll find something else,’ she said quietly. ‘Give it time and something will come along.’

  He hung his head. ‘Without the training and the travelling my life is so different now – so static …’ His words trailed off.

  By static he meant dull. She tried to ignore the nip of hurt. A career-ending injury couldn’t be easy to deal with. And on top of that, he was stuck in a forest in the middle of nowhere with no bike, and the search for his sister had so far proved fruitless.

  ‘Perhaps I should steal cars,’ he said. ‘That would give me an adrenalin rush at least.’

  ‘You’re angry.’

  His head whipped round. ‘I am?’

  ‘That’s how it seems.’

  A long pause unravelled, filled only by the sound of a blackbird’s alarm call. She checked where Charlie was, but he was harmlessly sniffing around a tree stump. She called him, and he returned to the path.

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Alex said finally.

  ‘Who are you angry with? Your boss – for dropping you?’

  ‘No. Yes. Well, not just him.’ He speared his hand through his hair, which left it sticking up in spikes. There was something strangely endearing about how he always did that, even if it did make her want to comb it back into place. ‘I spent months in rehab. I’m angry that all that was for nothing,’ he glared at his wrist, ‘and I’m angry with my body for letting me down, angry I had the accident – if I’d braked sooner, leaned in less …’

  That was a lot of anger, she thought. A rustling made them turn to the bushes on their right. But whatever had made the noise became perfectly still and silent.

  ‘Most of all, though,’ he finished, ‘I feel angry with myself.’

  ‘Yourself? Why?’

  ‘Because I failed.’

  ‘How? You had an accident. It’s no one’s fault.’

  He shrugged. ‘This is how I feel.’

  She considered this for a moment. ‘Were you always good at racing?’

  ‘I started winning races very young, yes.’

  ‘And before that, how did you do at school? I bet you got top grades in most subjects, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She noticed his cheeks darken with colour, and was surprised. Perhaps he wasn’t so arrogant after all. Perhaps she’d misjudged him in more ways than one. ‘That explains it, then,’ she said.

  ‘What? I don’t follow.’

  ‘You’ve never failed in anything before. You’ve always been top of the class, world champion – it’s no wonder you’re finding this adjustment difficult to make.’

  ‘You think?’

  She nodded. ‘What would you say if a good friend was standing here telling you that their career had been cut short by an injury?’

  He pressed his lips flat as he thought about this. ‘I’d say he’s had bad luck and advise him to find something else to keep him busy.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t tell him he was a failure, right?’

  Alex gave her a pointed look. ‘I’m not that cruel.’

  ‘And you wouldn’t think it either? You wouldn’t judge him.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t,’ he conceded, with a sigh. ‘I see what you’re saying. I’m being harder on myself than I would with someone else.’

  ‘Exactly. And maybe you should follow your own advice,’ she said. ‘Keep busy.’

  ‘There is nothing. Believe me, I’ve gone through every possibility.’

  ‘There must be something.’

  ‘Racing was and always will be my life.’ His mouth pressed flat and he sounded very certain and defiant, but now Liberty knew a little more about him she detected vulnerability too. Perhaps he was afraid of what the future held.

  ‘At least you’re still here,’ she said quietly. ‘I mean, you didn’t lose your life, and you’re not in a wheelchair.’ She thought of Carys. ‘It could have been worse. Much worse.’

  They turned the last bend and the cottage came into view. It looked beautiful in the snow, as if it had been coated with sugar icing. The snow was thick and soft and deep, not the feathery kind that would melt and be gone by mid-afternoon. No, it was here to stay. Carys would have loved it. She’d have been pelting them with snowballs.

  Liberty had been planning to make lunch, then get back to her sewing, but now she had a better idea. ‘Do you want to build a snowman?’

  Alex threw her a sceptical look. She scooped up a ball of snow then rolled it into a bigger one.

  ‘Isn’t that the wrong shape for a snowman?’ he asked.

  Charlie peered at it too. Alex was right: it was more sausage-shaped than round. She peered at it, then improvised. ‘It could be a snowdog!’

  Charlie barked his approval, and Alex laughed. He reached down to scoop up a handful of snow, and the two of them set to work.

  Half an hour later, they stepped back to admire the finished snow sculpture. ‘That looks good,’ said Liberty. ‘A snowdog eating a bone. No!’ She pulled Charlie back. ‘It’s not real, silly, and it’s not for you.’

  ‘That dog is cleverer than he looks,’ Alex murmured.

  She couldn’t tell if that was admiration in his voice or disapproval. ‘He is. I’m going to make lunch now, if you want some.’ Even though they’d been getting along much better since Saturday night, she was wary of being overfriendly.

  ‘Good idea. I can warm my hands up.’

  She gasped as he held them out. ‘They’re blue!’

  ‘It’s cold.’

  ‘You should have said. I could have lent you gloves.’

  He waved this away and headed inside. ‘Doesn’t matter now.’

  Liberty cleaned Charlie’s paws, and Alex went straight to the kitchen. ‘I can make soup if you like,’ he said, when she came in.

  ‘Great.’

  His meal on Saturday night had been delicious. She was happy to be cooked for. While he chopped carrots and leeks, she opened a packet of bread rolls and warmed them in the oven. She cast him surreptitious glances. It was curious, but he seemed more relaxed, and she wondered if it had done him good to talk about his problems. Or perhaps the woodland walk had cured his cabin fever.

  ‘Does Luc know you’re not racing any more?’ she asked. ‘Natasha never mentioned it.’

  ‘No one knows. Not even my family. Please don’t say anything to anyone. If the press find out … I’m not ready to face them yet.’

  ‘I won’t breathe a word. I promise.’

  He searched around in the cutlery drawer. She handed him a wooden spoon and he nodded his thanks. As he made the soup, she watched him thoughtfully.

  ‘Why did you tell me?’

  He put the spoon down and turned to her. ‘I don’t know.’ He threw her a lopsided grin. ‘Because you were there?’

  ‘Oh, thanks. That’s flattering.’

  When he smiled like that it made her heart flip.

  But he’d made it very clear he’d rather be anywhere but here, she reminded herself. And although he’d said he didn’t date, she could imagine he had glamorous women throwing themselves at him everywhere he went.

  ‘Could you work as a commentator or television presenter?’ she suggested, still trying to think of an alternative career for him. After Carys’s accident, she’d found that keeping busy helped. Having no direction and nothing to occupy him must be making his situation ten times harder.

  He wrinkled his nose. ‘It doesn’t interest me much, and there aren’t many o
penings.’

  ‘Sports journalism?’

  He barked a laugh. ‘Words are not my forte.’

  On reflection, she agreed. He was blunt and perhaps a little too open about his opinions. ‘Maybe you could help Luc with his business.’

  ‘It’s very technical. Anyway, construction doesn’t interest me.’

  ‘I could teach you to sew.’ She grinned.

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Perhaps you could—’

  ‘I don’t need career advice,’ he cut in.

  ‘I was only trying to help.’

  His expression softened to one of remorse. ‘I know. Sorry. But I don’t want to talk about it.’

  She nodded her understanding. ‘You need time to get used to it.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Something will come to you, I’m sure.’ She picked up the vase of flowers. ‘I’d better bin these. They’ve definitely given their all now.’

  ‘Is it true they were from a mystery admirer?’ He poured stock into the pan, gave it another stir, then put the lid on.

  ‘A mystery sender,’ she corrected. ‘I don’t know if it’s an admirer or just someone trying to show they care.’

  He hesitated, then asked, ‘You don’t think it’s a bit creepy – to send flowers without a note? It could be a stalker.’

  She laughed. ‘You’re so cynical! I refuse to believe that. I’m sure they were sent only out of kindness.’

  She popped out to drop the flowers on to the compost. When she came back she said, ‘I need to think of a challenge for today.’

  ‘Something scary?’

  ‘Or new, different. I’m a bit limited while we’re snowed in.’

  He thought for a moment. ‘I could teach you a few words of French over lunch?’

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea!’

  Alex stood by the lounge window, hands in his pockets, glaring at the feathery whiteness outside. At least two inches had fallen over lunch and it was still snowing now. He willed it to stop, but the flakes collecting on the windowsill only grew thicker and heavier. He wondered where his bike was now. In his imagination he could feel the vibrations of the machine beneath him, the power of the engine as he opened the throttle, the forward surge, the explosion of speed and adrenalin. Frustrated, he jammed his hands deeper into his pockets.

  ‘You’ve got that look on your face again.’ Liberty came in, carrying a folded quilt. She laid it on the sofa.

  ‘What look?’

  ‘The I-don’t-want-to-be-here look. You’re really suffering from cabin fever, aren’t you?’

  ‘Cabin fever?’

  ‘Being bored and frustrated because you’re stuck indoors.’

  ‘Yes. I’m missing my bike too,’ he confessed. Although he’d felt better after walking Charlie this morning, he couldn’t do circles of the woods all day every day.

  She unfolded the quilt. He glanced at it, then did a double-take.

  ‘What is this?’ he asked, shocked.

  ‘It’s just a quilt I’m making.’

  ‘These are – were – my racing colours.’ Orange, black and white. He felt a sharp stab of pain.

  ‘Were they? I didn’t know.’

  And the triangles of fabric had been laid out in a chevron pattern. It was as if the quilt had been designed especially for him. He turned away and glared at the snow outside again.

  Liberty watched him pensively. ‘I think I know what you might enjoy.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Come and see.’ She gestured for him to follow her.

  At the back of the house, by the kitchen door, a tidy stack of logs was sheltered by a sloping roof and, next to it, was a small shed. Liberty opened the door and showed him a sturdy wooden sledge.

  ‘Une luge.’ He grinned.

  ‘Deux, actually.’ Smiling, she pulled them out. ‘Want to test drive them?’

  ‘Go on, then.’ He winked.

  ‘Here, you have the wooden one. It’s heavier and it goes faster. I’ll take the plastic one.’

  A short while later, having fetched coats and boots, they set off, leaving Charlie at home. They walked a fair distance before they reached the top of a hill that overlooked the valley. From there he could see Willowbrook village, with its church spire and sand-coloured buildings nestled at the bottom. The slope was humming with people, adults and children alike, and their shrieks of laughter rang through the air.

  ‘Best if you aim for that dip at the bottom.’ Liberty pointed. She climbed onto her sledge and straightened her hat, grinning. ‘See you down there!’

  He followed, and soon they were speeding down the hill. He leaned back for maximum speed, pulled the rope and tilted left and right to get the fastest course possible down the hill. Sunlight ricocheted off the snow as he flew along, and the ice-cold air on his face made him feel alive, made him feel like a child again. He waited for Liberty at the bottom.

  She laughed as she slowed to a stop. ‘I’d forgotten how much fun that is!’

  He held out a hand to help her to her feet.

  ‘Did you enjoy it?’ she asked, as they trudged back up to the top of the hill.

  ‘Not bad,’ he said, scanning the area, planning the route for his next run. Why restrict yourself to the busiest part of the slope when there were other possibilities?

  ‘Just not bad? You looked like you were having fun.’

  ‘It could be faster.’

  She rolled her eyes.

  ‘Why don’t we go that way?’ He pointed to a stretch halfway down the slope where it dipped away to the left at a steeper angle. It was quieter. No crowds.

  ‘There’s a stone wall at the bottom,’ she explained. ‘And it’s too steep anyway.’

  They reached the top of the hill again, and Liberty sat down, preparing herself for a second run. He dug his sledge end up into the snow and sat behind her. ‘Hey!’ She laughed. ‘What are you doing? You can’t come on my sledge!’

  ‘Why not?’ He pushed off with his feet, pedalling them towards the steeper slope.

  ‘Because you’re too heavy!’ She shrieked as the sledge suddenly speeded up. ‘Stop!’

  ‘Why? It’s more fun with two. We’ll go faster.’

  ‘I don’t want to go faster. Get off – aaah!’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Liberty screamed and held on tight as they streaked past the other sledges and Alex steered a zigzag course around a pile of people who’d collided, then turned sharp left to take the steepest, most hair-raising course downhill.

  The slope Liberty had always avoided because it was far too steep to be safe. The slope most people avoided, but not Alex. Not daredevil, speed-loving adrenalin-hungry Alex.

  He tugged on the rope, his bare hands tinged blue with cold, and she yelped again as the sledge tilted and swerved, and the wind whistled past her ears, and snow sprayed up into her face like confetti. She could feel his face next to hers, she could feel his arms around her, and the warmth of his legs against hers. Tears streamed down her face from the cold, the wind, and from laughing.

  But her laughter died when she saw they were heading straight for the stone wall.

  Her throat squeezed so she couldn’t speak. She knew what was going to happen: there’d be a loud smack and the crunch of bones. And she was at the front – she’d never come out of this unscathed. She screamed again and closed her eyes, which only made it feel faster. Fear snowballed inside her. She opened them again, the wall was coming at her at sickening speed and—

  Alex leaned in and they swerved sharp left, throwing up a wave of snow and skidding to a stop.

  Liberty gulped air. Heart racing, she reached out and touched the wall she’d been so convinced she’d be flattened against. Even through her woollen mitten, the stone felt cold and unyielding. Alex was laughing. He might even have been asking her if she’d enjoyed it, but she wasn’t listening.

  She was livid.

  ‘I can’t believe you did that,’ she said, through clenched
teeth.

  ‘What? I was completely in control.’

  ‘No one can be completely in control, especially going at that speed on a plastic sledge, which has no steering mechanism apart from a thin piece of rope that could have snapped at any time. You are so lucky no one got hurt.’ She pulled herself to standing and glared at him.

  He had been laughing, but his expression changed to surprise when he saw her angry face. He quickly recovered. ‘Oh, stop with the outrage, Liberty!’ He beamed that gorgeous smile. It would be almost impossible for anyone to stay mad at him when he looked at you like that.

  Almost.

  ‘It was fun, admit it.’ He got up too and reached to dust the snow off her coat, but she batted his hand away. He frowned.

  It had been fun – until it became terrifying.

  There was no one nearby. No one else was foolish enough to take the course they’d taken, so she couldn’t understand why he added quietly, ‘I heard you laughing. I saw your beautiful smile.’

  Beautiful. Her heart thumped hard. Why did he always used that word? He probably didn’t mean anything by it. And yet his dark eyes were fixed on her face, intense and inescapable. It confused her. It made her glow inside, despite the sub-zero temperature.

  She tried to stay focused on her anger towards him. She was still shaking, for Heaven’s sake. ‘I was scared,’ she said. ‘Really scared.’

  His smile vanished. He looked genuinely perplexed. ‘But—’

  ‘We’re not all like you, Alex. Not everyone is desperate for a fix of adrenalin or speed. We – we could have hit the wall!’ She swiped away a tear from her cheek with her glove.

  For a moment he seemed to grapple for what to say. Then he told her, ‘We were never going to hit the wall. Trust me, I was totally in control. Loosen up a little.’

  ‘Loosen up?’ She stared at him, enraged. Those words pushed all her buttons. He thought she was dull and set in her ways, didn’t he? Just like her ex. She remembered the disdain in Alex’s face when he’d first arrived and described this place as too quiet. She spun on her heel and began to stamp away from him. Well, she tried to stamp, but her boots sank into the snow, slowing her down.

  ‘Liberty?’ he called. ‘Where are you going?’