A Winter's Dream

by Sophie Claire

  ‘Home.’

  He caught up with her, the sledge tucked under his arm. ‘What’s wrong? What did I say?’

  ‘It’s what you did that’s the problem! I don’t like people who think they know better than I do what I want and what I need.’

  ‘But isn’t this what your challenge is about? Pushing yourself to have new experiences?’

  He was right, dammit, but now she’d worked herself into such a fury she was not ready to admit it. So she marched on up the hill, past the clusters of sledges and people with brightly coloured knitted hats and rosy faces, towards the woods.

  Alex watched her storm away. He winced as a shaft of pain forked through his shoulder. Damn. Just when he’d thought it was getting better. He went after her, but her fierce scowl warned him not to persist with the questions, so he collected the wooden sledge and they trudged back to the cottage in hostile silence.

  Their breath left little clouds in the air, and the snow sparkled in the sunlight. He went over and over in his mind what had happened, but couldn’t make sense of it. Something didn’t add up. He’d genuinely believed she was enjoying herself as much as he was, but she’d been scared and upset, and he felt bad that he’d been the cause. Still, her fury seemed disproportionate to his crime.

  Charlie must have heard them approaching because he barked excitedly. Alex hung his head. How was he going to repair this? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d upset a woman so much—

  Actually, he could. The memory of Solange flashed up in his mind and made him wince.

  Damn it, Ricard. Not again.

  As they reached the little gate at the back of the house, Liberty stopped unexpectedly.

  She turned to face him, but didn’t meet his eye as she said, ‘My last boyfriend broke up with me because he said I was too dull and set in my ways.’

  Alex puzzled over this. A long pause followed before he said warily, ‘I don’t understand. Why does this matter?’

  ‘You said I should “loosen up” and you made me feel small, just like he did. Old before my time.’ Her beautiful brown eyes flashed fire. Only now he saw the hurt in them too.

  He groaned. ‘That’s not what I meant—’

  ‘Yes, it is. We both know you hate it here, that it’s too quiet and you think I’m way too attached to my boring routine.’

  ‘That’s not true.’ He hadn’t been the easiest person to be around, and maybe he’d made one or two comments about how quiet it was, but he’d been talking about the place, not her.

  He should have known better. She’d told him about her challenge, and he knew she had hang-ups about leading a small life. And now she was upset because of him. Guilt twisted through him. Despite her air of being in control, a shadow of vulnerability followed her and made him want to wrap his arms around her.

  She lifted her chin. ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m not judging you,’ he said finally.

  ‘Yeah, right.’ She pulled her hat off, and her hair was a burst of flames against the white woodland.

  ‘It’s true. You were out almost every night last week. And I don’t hate it here. I’ve had stuff on my mind and I’m angry my bike got stolen, but …’ He looked at the cottage behind her, the honey-coloured lights glowing in the windows, and he felt a rush of warmth as he remembered their walk this morning and how light he’d felt afterwards. His troubles had lifted for the first time in weeks. He said softly, ‘I’m enjoying being snowed in with you.’

  ‘You’re only saying that because you’re trying to win me round. What you said – about loosening up,’ she blinked hard, ‘it hurt, Alex.’

  Her honesty felled him. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I know I’m boring and a coward, but I don’t need you to point it out to me. I’m trying my best to change.’

  ‘You’re not a coward and you don’t need to change. You’re perfect as you are.’

  Her eyes widened and he could tell she was as surprised as he was by his words. But she was perfect, and he genuinely hadn’t been criticising her. ‘I like speed, but I forget that not everyone is like me. You are not like me.’

  ‘You can say that again. We’re complete opposites.’

  ‘But this doesn’t mean you have to change.’

  ‘I do. But you’ – she waggled a finger at him – ‘need to change too. You’re living in the real world now, with real people, not Celebrity Land where everyone kow-tows to you. You need to respect other people’s wishes and not drag us all along with you on your high-speed …’, she cast around for the word, ‘… joyrides!’

  ‘Joyrides? What is this?’

  ‘When thieves take a car and drive it dangerously for fun.’

  ‘You’re comparing me to a thief?’

  Her pale cheeks bloomed with colour and her lips curved. ‘Yes. I am.’

  Charlie barked again, and they glanced at the cottage.

  Alex shook his head, smiling. ‘No one has spoken to me the way you do for many years – with such disapproval.’

  ‘Yeah, well, maybe it’ll do you good, Mr World Champion. Stop you getting too big for your boots.’

  He chuckled. ‘I’m sorry I took you for a joyride.’

  ‘You already apologised.’

  ‘But you don’t believe I’m genuinely sorry. I thought you were enjoying it. You were laughing, smiling …’ On an impulse he didn’t stop to question, he stepped forward and brushed the hair out of her eyes. He was so close, he could smell her perfume.

  ‘I enjoyed it at first,’ she admitted quietly. ‘Before you took us off-piste.’

  He tried to take his eyes off hers, but they were spellbinding, sparkling with humour and vulnerability. ‘So if we could rewind to the top of the hill, would you still tell me to get off your sledge?’

  She weighed this up. ‘Perhaps not,’ she conceded, with a crooked smile.

  He grinned. ‘Could it count as your challenge for today?’

  ‘I suppose.’ She smiled, and he knew he’d scored a winning point. ‘But,’ she added quickly, ‘I was scared, and you can’t assume everyone is like you with the speed and adrenalin thing.’

  He placed a hand on his heart. ‘I will respect that. I promise.’

  She went on, ‘You can’t pursue your own thrills regardless of other people’s feelings.’

  Her words made him still.

  His father. The man who’d cast a dark shadow over his whole life sprang up between them, like a jack-in-the-box.

  He tried to force the lid back down on it, but the image was so ugly and vivid, and it caught him off guard. He wasn’t like his dad. He wasn’t.

  ‘You had no reason to be scared, Liberty,’ he said, stepping away from her. ‘I was in complete control. I would never let anything happen to you.’

  She opened the back door and Charlie greeted them with excited barks and frenzied tail-wagging.

  ‘Hello, Charlie,’ said Alex, rubbing him behind the ears. The dog jumped up and he flinched.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Liberty.

  He bit back the pain that lanced through his shoulder. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Is it your shoulder? I thought it was better.’

  ‘I must have strained it sledging.’ He gripped it, trying to knead away the pain with his hand.

  Concern flooded her eyes. ‘Can I get you anything? A hot-water bottle? Painkillers?’ She bit her lip. ‘Sorry, I forgot – you don’t like it when I fuss.’ She turned to go.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  She stopped and turned, surprised.

  ‘Both would be good, thanks.’

  ‘What happened to Mr I-Just-Need-A-Room-And-Nothing-More?’

  He shrugged – then winced again as another flash of pain hit. ‘He was an idiot.’

  Her smile was like sunshine reflected on ice. ‘Yes. I agree with you there.’

  ‘So what are you doing this evening?’ Liberty asked, as they had dinner.

  ‘I have no plans.’

  ‘I’m going to watc
h a film. Want to join me?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What kind of film?’

  She lifted a finger to her chin. ‘Let’s see.’ Her eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘A Disney princess movie?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘I’m kidding, Alex.’

  As he’d walked past the lounge he’d caught glimpses and the films she liked all featured the same tall blonde Hollywood actress, who ended up either in slapstick situations or in the arms of her male counterpart. ‘I don’t think you and I have the same taste in films.’

  ‘What do you like?’ she asked. ‘Wait – don’t tell me. Sci-fi?’

  He shook his head. What made her think that?

  ‘War films?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We could see what’s on and pick something we both like.’

  He hesitated. But what else was there to do?

  In the lounge they went through the channels. ‘Motor racing.’ She grimaced. ‘I suppose you want to watch that?’

  He shook his head quickly. ‘No.’

  ‘Phew.’ She continued to scroll through the guide. They settled on a box set neither of them had seen.

  They sat side by side with mugs of hot chocolate and marshmallows. Charlie curled up on the floor, and Liberty picked up the orange and black quilt and stitched. The fire made the room snug, and the candles she’d lit gave a warm glow. He realised the cottage was growing on him. Now he knew to duck his head under the doorways, and he appreciated that what he’d seen as clutter held special meaning for Liberty. She’d talked about the quilted throw her mum had made, the cushion they’d stitched together when her mum became ill and couldn’t sew unaided any more, and her photos of Carys. All of it was precious to Liberty and told the story of who she was. Someone loyal and loving, with deep roots in this place.

  She couldn’t be more different from him and his nomadic life.

  ‘Canada looks like such a gorgeous country,’ she said wistfully, as the camera panned over snow-covered mountains and the first episode ended. She turned to him. ‘Have you been there?’

  ‘In summer. The scale of it is incredible. Breath-taking.’

  ‘I’m so jealous.’

  ‘You should go.’

  Her thimble-covered finger pushed the needle up and down through the quilt in quick, tiny stitches. ‘I can’t,’ she said softly.

  ‘Why not?’

  She didn’t answer for a long time. Finally, she darted him a shy glance. ‘I can’t fly.’

  Spots of colour touched her cheeks and he understood. ‘You’re afraid?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Have you tried?’

  ‘Once. A few years ago. Never again.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Reluctantly, she put down the needle. ‘I had a panic attack on the plane. I thought …’ Her eyes glazed with fear at the memory. ‘It felt like I was going to die. I was petrified.’ She drew breath. ‘Now I stick to trains.’

  Smiling, she picked up her stitching again, feigning cheerfulness.

  But he wasn’t fooled. He wanted to draw her to him, to help her. She was an intriguing combination of fiery strength and timidity. He felt a rush of protectiveness.

  ‘Want a chocolate?’ she asked, handing him a box.

  He took it, but his gaze was fixed on her as she popped one into her mouth. Heat smoked through him unexpectedly.

  Frowning, he looked away. He wasn’t interested in getting close to her – or anyone. Anyway, she wanted a serious relationship, and he definitely couldn’t give her that.

  ‘Have you arranged to see the lawyer again?’ he asked quickly.

  ‘Ethan. His name’s Ethan. And we were supposed to go out tonight, but we had to cancel because of the snow.’

  ‘Shame. You could call him, though.’

  She cast him a surreptitious glance. ‘Yes. I could. I might do it later.’

  ‘Good.’

  Thursday, 11 December

  ‘Are the roads open yet?’ Alex asked over breakfast. Not that he had any means of transport. Still, once they did reopen he might be able to arrange to rent something.

  Liberty looked up from her laptop and sighed. ‘Every time you ask me that you make me feel like you’re desperate to get away from me.’

  ‘Not from you. It’s being stuck indoors I don’t like. Being static. I need …’ He cast around for the word.

  ‘Speed?’ she suggested.

  ‘I was going to say purpose.’ He supposed what he was missing was having a goal, direction, and being snowed in only made the feeling of being adrift more acute.

  Liberty tilted her head as if to think. ‘There is something you could help me with, if you like.’

  She had piqued his curiosity.

  ‘But it doesn’t involve speed or danger so you might not be interested.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘There’s a tree farm on the other side of the village. We could pick a Christmas tree.’

  ‘Normally I don’t do this until the fifteenth of December,’ said Liberty, as they put their boots on. She’d explained it was an hour’s walk to the farm. ‘But since we’re snowed in we can bring it forward a little.’

  ‘The fifteenth of December?’ He fought a smile. ‘Not the fourteenth or the sixteenth? Why this date?’

  ‘Because it’s the middle of the month and real pine trees shed their needles if you bring them indoors too soon. I like it to look fresh on Christmas Day.’

  He zipped up his jacket and chuckled.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘You and your routine,’ he teased.

  Her face fell. ‘It’s dull and predictable, isn’t it?’

  ‘No. It’s charming. And it’s you. It’s how you are.’

  She blushed.

  He went to open the door.

  ‘Wait!’ she said, as if she’d just remembered something. She ran to her sewing room and reappeared seconds later with a pair of mittens. ‘I made you these – for the snow. So your fingers don’t go blue again.’

  They appeared to have been made from an old pair of jeans with a cream fleece lining, so they were soft and warm. ‘Thanks,’ he said, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. When he’d first arrived, he’d been suspicious of her offers of help, but now he knew that she simply wanted to look after everyone around her.

  ‘So you just point to a tree and they cut it down for you?’ he asked, when the pine-covered hillside came into view.

  Liberty grinned. ‘Yes. Amazing, isn’t it? Still think Willowbrook is a bad place to live?’

  ‘I didn’t say it was a bad—’

  ‘You thought it,’ she cut in. His mouth snapped shut. Okay, he’d thought it. ‘Here we are,’ she said, as they arrived. She pushed open a wooden gate.

  A surreal scene greeted him as he followed her in. Beneath a gazebo, a long table had been set for a celebratory meal, decorated with greenery and candles, and beyond that was a circle of trees glowing with fairy lights and baubles that caught the light as they spun in the breeze. A wide sofa was pushed up against them, with a stack of extravagantly wrapped gifts piled up either side. Beyond all this, a forest of snow-covered pines stretched up the hill. It looked like a winter wonderland with all the snow, pine trees and men in green elf costumes tugging trees around – although the effect was slightly spoilt by the hi-vis jackets thrown on over the top.

  It was busy already. Everyone must have had the same idea and walked there too, with wheelbarrows or sledges to lug their trees home.

  ‘Come on,’ said Liberty, and she set off into the forest. ‘Remember, it can’t be too big because my ceiling’s low.’

  ‘I noticed,’ he said drily.

  ‘And not too wide because there isn’t much space in the lounge.’

  ‘How about this one?’ He pointed to a small compact tree.

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘That’s too small. It will look lost.’

  ‘This one, then?’

  ‘I’d like it to b
e fuller. Not so sparse.’

  ‘This one?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t like blue spruce. It has to be green.’

  He hid a smile as he stepped around the wooden toadstools that marked the path. It seemed she was as choosy with Christmas trees as she was with men on her dating app.

  They walked on, weaving through the Norway spruce to the area signed Lodgepole pines, then Nordmann firs.

  ‘You really don’t like any of these?’ Alex asked.

  She looked serious as she examined each tree and found them all wanting. ‘They’re not quite right.’

  ‘None of them?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ll know when I find it.’

  He pushed his hands deep into his coat pockets. His feet were so cold he could hardly feel his toes any more. ‘Do you do this every year?’

  His mum liked to buy a real tree too, but in Paris this had involved having it delivered to her apartment. She’d love to come to a place like this.

  ‘Yes. One year we had to chop the top off because it was too tall.’ She smiled. ‘It looked so silly, but I was only nine.’

  ‘Your mother let you pick the tree when you were nine? Didn’t she see it was too big?’

  ‘I doubt it. The next year I brought measurements with me. Aha!’ She stopped suddenly. ‘That’s the one.’

  He peered at the tree more closely, puzzled because, to him, it was just the same as all the others they’d passed.

  Her eyes lit with excitement. ‘What do you think?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said.

  ‘Just fine? It’s perfect.’

  She called an elf guy over to cut the tree down. Snow trickled from its branches as the elf lifted it onto his shoulder and carried it back to the entrance. Once she’d finished paying, Alex bent to pick it up, but she stopped him. ‘We can leave it here for a little while. Let’s go to the café for a mince pie before we head back.’

  ‘Café?’ He looked around but couldn’t see anything.

  She led him behind the decorated Christmas trees and pointed to a gleaming railway carriage with a sparkling sign that read ‘Polar Express’. Through the windows he could see customers sitting at small tables, their hands wrapped around steaming mugs.

  Liberty grinned. ‘Their mince pies are homemade, and they do the meanest hot chocolate.’