A Winter's Dream

by Sophie Claire

  ‘Is that Jake’s quadbike?’ she asked, as she opened the front door.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘This is the surprise?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She eyed the machine suspiciously. It wouldn’t be as scary as riding his motorbike, but it wasn’t something she’d do for fun. He really didn’t know her well, did he?

  ‘We can use this to go to the hospital and visit Carys,’ he explained, as he stamped the snow off his boots and shut the door behind him. ‘I’ll drive you there.’

  She stared at him.

  He watched her reaction and added cautiously, ‘If you like. We don’t have to.’

  Perhaps he did know her, after all. Visiting Carys would be—

  She couldn’t find the words. She was so touched that he’d thought of it. ‘Alex,’ her voice sounded rough, frayed around the edges, ‘that’s so … thoughtful. Thank you.’

  His worried expression was instantly replaced with one of relief. ‘Not too scary?’

  ‘As long as you don’t go too fast, no.’

  ‘You said you were worried she’d have no visitors. Now she will.’

  He’d not only listened but gone out of his way to arrange this for her. ‘I didn’t know you’d met Jake.’

  ‘I hadn’t before today. Luc helped. Will this count as today’s challenge?’

  Their gazes locked and she knew they were both remembering their angry words yesterday.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, in a conciliatory tone. ‘It will.’

  He winked. ‘And if you want more of a challenge, you could take the driving seat.’

  The smell of hospital hit Alex head-on. It caught in his throat and took him straight back to his accidents. Both of them. The first had been in Malaysia, the second in Spain, and eventually he’d recuperated in France. But hospitals smelt the same wherever you went in the world: of disinfectant, and the desperate wish to be anywhere else.

  ‘You did well to get here in the snow,’ said one nurse. ‘A few of us have had to stay at the hospital because the roads are so bad. Did you walk?’

  ‘No. We came on a quadbike.’ Liberty grinned.

  ‘Hi, Liberty!’ another nurse called.

  He watched as she greeted all the nurses by name, and they paused to chat by the desk. ‘Hey, I love the latest quilt you made. The one with the orange, pink and red blocks. It looked amazing against the snow. So colourful.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m missing Carys to hold them up for me.’

  ‘Can’t you get your lodger to help?’ They all eyed Alex. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’

  She did so and all the nurses smiled. ‘Lovely to meet you, Alex.’

  He pretended not to notice that one or two exchanged secret glances. It didn’t help that he was wearing his leathers, but they’d seemed the most suitable clothes for riding a quadbike in this weather.

  As he and Liberty continued down the corridor, he asked her, ‘What did that nurse mean about helping with your quilts?’

  ‘Oh, when I finish a quilt I photograph it outside and post pictures on social media.’

  ‘Why outside?’

  ‘The light’s better and it looks nice. The trees set off the colours.’ She reached for her phone and showed him her photos. The colourful bold designs stood out against the trees and leaves of the woods. And her photos tracked the changing of the seasons: the zesty green of summer, the chestnut and gold of autumn through to the muted shades of winter. ‘See what a gorgeous background the snow gives? With a colourful quilt it’s especially effective.’

  He ran his gaze over the brightly coloured bricks of fabric and the black border. Her quilts were striking and modern and, photographed in this way, they took on an artistic quality. He glanced at her, seeing her work in a different light. He’d regarded it as a quaint, old-fashioned hobby when, in fact, it spoke of years of training, not to mention innate talent and skill. She was an artist, working with fabric. He was seriously impressed.

  ‘How many of these things have you made?’ he asked, scrolling down the page.

  She laughed and held open a door for him. They turned sharp right into another corridor. ‘Dozens. Roughly one a week. More if you count the ones I make at work for Evie’s shop.’

  ‘Do you sell them?’

  ‘Yes. That’s why I post them on social media. It’s my shop window. They always go quickly.’

  ‘How did Carys help you?’

  ‘She held them up so I could get the whole quilt into the shot. See? Like that.’ She pointed to the older pictures at the bottom of the screen. ‘But I’ve found that if I drape them over a branch, that looks good too.’ She put her phone away and stopped outside an open door. ‘This is Carys’s room.’

  He nodded, but as she moved to go in he stopped her. ‘The – ah – the nurses were right. I could help you take pictures of your quilts. If you want me to, that is.’

  She beamed. ‘That would be great. Thanks.’

  In Carys’s room, Liberty bent to kiss her friend’s cheek. ‘Carys, it’s me.’

  Alex watched the sleeping woman and wondered if she could hear the smile in Liberty’s voice. She was so still. The machines she was hooked up to ticked away calmly beside her.

  ‘And this is Alex. You know, the lodger I told you about.’ She beckoned him closer.

  He touched Carys’s hand, feeling a little self-conscious, but he understood what Liberty was trying to do. And who knew what her friend could hear? If Carys were his friend he wouldn’t be able to give up hope, either. Besides, all he’d learned about Liberty the last few days told him Carys was more than just a friend. Like a sister, perhaps. Family.

  ‘Hi, Carys,’ he said. ‘You should see the snow. It’s incredible. Like a picture book.’

  Liberty laughed and drew up a chair. ‘He says that now, Car, but he wasn’t happy when it first snowed. He was really grumpy to be trapped inside the cottage with me.’

  ‘The place is growing on me,’ he conceded. There wasn’t another chair so he remained standing.

  ‘You make that sound like someone made you eat sprouts.’ Liberty smiled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’ She turned back to her friend. ‘I’ve lots to tell you, Car. We’ve been sledging and built a snowdog in the garden …’

  She chattered on and he watched her animated expression while her friend slept motionless.

  ‘And you’ll be pleased about this,’ Liberty said to Carys. ‘I’ve met a guy. His name’s Ethan.’

  Alex tensed.

  ‘I told you about how he comes into the shop for his mum. I asked him out, can you believe?’ She glanced shyly at Alex. He shuffled his feet, uncomfortable with the conversation. ‘With a little encouragement from Alex, but anyway, Ethan said yes and we—’

  Alex cleared his throat. ‘Why don’t I get us coffee from the machine? Give you some privacy.’

  Her eyebrows lifted. ‘It’s okay. I’m not going to say anything X-rated.’

  ‘Even so.’ He didn’t wait for her reply but left the room, relieved to escape. He didn’t need to hear the ins and outs of her date. He knew her better after three snow days together, but there was a limit to how involved he wanted to be in her life.

  He strode down the corridor, trying not to think about that kiss but it remained vivid in his mind: the velvet of her lips, her shocked delight and pleasure. He shook off the unwelcome memory and fed coins into the coffee machine. The thick black liquid that dribbled into a paper cup tasted as vile as he’d expected and he was almost glad of the distraction when a male nurse stopped to ask for his autograph. Clearly word had got round that he was in the hospital.

  By the time he got back to Carys’s room, a group of nurses had clustered outside and were listening to Liberty. He recognised the slow melody of ‘Silent Night’.

  It was incredible. Liberty’s voice carried, silky and clear, reaching the highest notes with ease, and his skin prickled as the music stirred so
mething inside him.

  ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ one of the nurses whispered.

  ‘It is,’ he replied. The haunting melody was mesmerising. ‘Why don’t you go in?’

  She shook her head. ‘Liberty stops singing if anyone goes in.’

  ‘She’s shy,’ said another nurse. ‘I could never sing in public, either.’

  ‘The way you sing that’s a relief,’ her colleague teased. ‘But where Liberty’s concerned it’s a waste of a beautiful voice that no one else hears it.’

  Alex frowned. Liberty had all these talents, yet they remained as hidden as her cottage in the woods. The nurses were right: it was a waste.

  ‘You don’t mind hospitals?’ Liberty asked, as they trudged through the hospital grounds to the car park. ‘Some people hate them.’

  Truth be told, she’d been worried he might be quiet and awkward around Carys – but he hadn’t at all. In fact, she was impressed at how relaxed he’d been, chatting to her and to the nurses. She’d noticed, too, the looks the nurses had exchanged with each other when he’d arrived. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. His leathers made his shoulders look so broad, his legs long and slim.

  ‘I often get asked to visit kids who are sick. Fans, you know?’

  ‘Poorly children? Oh, that must be really sad.’

  ‘It’s heart-breaking, but when I see how happy it makes them just to see me, I know I’ve done the right thing. And they’re so brave, it’s extremely humbling.’

  And, just like that, Liberty was forced to adjust her view of him yet again. Who’d have thought a speed demon would do such good deeds? Perhaps she’d been a little quick to judge him. Perhaps her own prejudices – the speed thing and the jet-setting lifestyle – had clouded her judgement. She felt a needle of guilt. Well, at least the last few snow days had given them the opportunity to get to know each other better. And, thankfully, they had put yesterday’s kiss behind them.

  ‘It must be difficult,’ he said softly, ‘seeing your friend in a coma. Not knowing if she can hear you, or if she’ll ever wake up.’

  Difficult didn’t begin to describe the complicated knot of emotions. ‘It is. Whenever I’m happy I feel guilty, but if I spend too long thinking about it I feel down. It’s so … draining.’ She threw him a weak smile and added quickly, ‘But I can’t complain. It must be far worse for her family.’

  ‘Not necessarily. You lived with her. And it sounds like you were very close.’

  She felt a rush of joy at his understanding.

  He went on, ‘I imagine it’s harder than if she’d died. At least then you could grieve. But this – it’s like …’

  ‘Limbo,’ she finished quietly. ‘Yes, it is.’

  They reached the quadbike. It was alone in the car park. ‘So what’s the plan tonight?’ asked Alex.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What’s the routine for Friday evenings? Does it involve wine?’

  ‘No. I have work tomorrow. If the roads are clear, that is.’

  ‘I think they might be. Look, it’s melting in places.’ He pointed to where the snow was turning to slush.

  Her hopes lifted, like a hot-air balloon. Tomorrow was the Christmas ball and she’d see Ethan.

  ‘It’s a shame,’ he said. ‘The snow made this place look like something from a picture book. Although it has its charm without snow too.’

  ‘I thought you hated it here.’

  His lips curved. ‘Maybe I’m getting used to it after all.’

  She felt a kick of triumph at this turnaround.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, when she climbed on the quadbike and gripped the handlebars.

  ‘Taking the driving seat.’

  A wide smile spread across his face and lit his eyes. He handed her the keys and climbed on behind her. His arms came around her waist and she tried to ignore the charge of electricity that flashed through her.

  He showed her how the controls worked. It wasn’t complicated. She gunned the engine. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Ready.’ He chuckled.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You,’ he said. His voice was deep and warm in her ear. ‘On the way here you clung to me like a mussel—’

  ‘A limpet,’ she corrected.

  ‘And now you’re revving the engine like one of Hell’s Angels.’

  She grinned. ‘Yeah, well, I feel braver now.’

  When she was with him she always felt braver, it seemed. The realisation took her by surprise.

  Saturday, 13 December

  ‘This quilt looks great. Did the customer ask for Liberty fabrics?’ Liberty smoothed the flowery material flat. It was their first day back at the Button Hole since the roads had been cleared of snow, but the shop was quiet so they were in the back room basting one of the three quilt tops Evie had made while she’d been snowed in. They’d laid out the backing fabric, smoothed it flat and clamped it to the big work table. Next, they added the wadding and flattened it.

  ‘She did.’ Evie clamped her corner of the quilt. ‘I know they’re not your thing, but they’re very popular.’

  ‘I prefer plainer fabrics, that’s true, but Liberty fabric suits this style: romantic, classic. You’ve used your snow days well to get so much done.’

  ‘Well, Jake walked into work – he didn’t want to let his patients down – so I was at home on my own. I enjoyed it, actually. It’s not often I get the whole day free to sew and now we’ve converted one of the spare bedrooms into a sewing room I have everything I need to keep me busy.’

  Satisfied that the two layers were perfectly flat, they peeled back half of the wadding and Evie sprayed it with basting glue.

  ‘It’s good to be back at work,’ said Liberty, as she carefully pressed the wadding back into place, working her way slowly from the middle to the outside. Evie did the same on the other side of the table, and they repeated the process for the second half. ‘Being snowed in is fun for a few days, but it quickly loses its novelty. I missed this place.’

  ‘I was worried about you, stuck inside all that time with moody Motorbike Guy.’

  ‘Actually, he’s not so bad once you get to know him. He’s just got … things on his mind.’ Her palms smoothed over the soft wadding and she remembered the heart-break in his voice when he’d told her his career was over, the heat in his eyes before they’d kissed.

  Evie stopped. ‘Are you blushing? Lib, is there something you’re not telling me?’

  ‘We’ve just got to know each other better after three days of being snowed in, that’s all.’ But she avoided Evie’s gaze as they laid the final layer – the quilt top – over the wadding and made sure it was perfectly flat and central before folding it back and gluing it in place.

  ‘That’s all?’ Evie’s eyes glinted with mischief.

  ‘Honestly, Eves. It’s nothing like that. Alex isn’t going to be around long and, anyway, I’m really looking forward to seeing Ethan again tonight. I know it’s early days, but I’ve got a good feeling about us.’

  ‘I like him. He’s so polite.’ Evie clamped her side of the quilt in place. ‘I’m glad you and Motorbike Guy are getting on better, though. It can’t be easy to share with someone if there’s an atmosphere.’

  ‘You’re right. Actually, I’m having second thoughts about taking in any more lodgers. I’ve been lucky this time, but it could go horribly wrong.’ She unscrewed the small tub of quilter’s safety pins. In the unlikely event that the glue didn’t hold, these would keep the three layers secure until they’d been machine-quilted. Liberty poked a pin through the quilt, and said quietly, ‘Plus I’m still hoping Carys will wake up and come home.’

  Evie’s eyes were warm with sympathy. ‘She will. I’m sure she will.’

  Liberty took a deep breath, fighting down the emotions. ‘She’ll be sorry she missed the ball tonight. She always loves it.’

  Evie looked at the shop window. ‘We’re lucky the snow thawed in time.’ Her dimples showed. ‘I can’t wait to tel
l everyone our news.’

  Liberty smiled, glad for Evie that she’d found someone who made her happy, the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. The ball tonight would be one to remember.

  Liberty checked her reflection one last time before she went downstairs, trying not to catch her hem with the heels of her sparkly shoes. She wore a long chocolate satin dress and her hair was loose in big loopy curls. She’d darkened her eyes and painted her lips a deep matt red.

  In the kitchen she opened the drawer where she kept her house keys and dropped them into her purse. Alex was preparing a salad. He glanced over his shoulder, then did a double-take. ‘You look amazing,’ he said.

  Her heart jumped. She blushed and muttered her thanks. Carys often used to tell her she looked gorgeous, but it felt different coming from a man. Especially a handsome, hot-blooded Frenchman who, in her experience, only ever spoke his mind.

  She shook off the thought. Ethan’s opinion was the one that mattered to her. ‘You’re sure you don’t want to come, too?’ she asked.

  ‘Sure.’ As he whisked up a vinaigrette dressing with a fork she noticed he had oil stains on his fingers. He’d said he was going to deliver parts to Guy’s garage today, but she guessed he’d stayed to help out again.

  ‘Luc dropped off a black suit for you. It’s hanging in my sewing room.’

  ‘I told him not to.’

  ‘I don’t understand why—’

  ‘It’s not my thing. I won’t know anyone.’

  ‘You will. You’ll know Luc and Natasha, Guy and Bob—’

  ‘I’ll look after Charlie.’

  Her mouth snapped shut. A short silence followed. ‘Fine.’

  To be honest, she was relieved. It would be more straightforward this way: just her and Ethan. On a date.

  The dog trotted into the kitchen with a hopeful expression. He must have heard his name.

  ‘I’ll walk him. Ten o’clock at the latest,’ Alex vowed, tapping his watch, and she knew he was teasing her.

  ‘I’m not that strict about routine.’

  ‘Oh, you are. But don’t worry. If I forget he’ll come and tell me. He’s a clever dog, aren’t you?’ He scratched the dog behind the ears.