A Winter's Dream

by Sophie Claire

  ‘The surprise is in the church?’ she asked, seeing where they were heading.

  He nodded. They joined the villagers streaming into the church, and inside he took her hand. ‘Come and see this,’ he said, leading her towards the front.

  The smell of incense filled the air and to the right a small choir were singing carols. But the attention wasn’t on them. Everyone seemed to be gathering in front of the altar where a handful of people were dressed in costumes and stood or knelt around a wooden crib. Sawdust and straw had been strewn across the stone floor of the church and candles burned on tall stands, lending the scene a golden glow.

  ‘What are they doing?’ whispered Liberty.

  ‘It’s une crèche vivante,’ said Alex. ‘A living crib.’

  Liberty ran her gaze over their simple costumes and calm expressions. ‘Are they actors?’

  ‘No. Just villagers who volunteered. Even the baby’s real. Chantal had him three weeks ago.’

  ‘You know her?’

  ‘Maman told me about the baby, but I used to know her. We were at school together.’

  The woman’s husband stepped closer to her and put his arm around her. She smiled at him and they watched the sleeping baby lovingly.

  Liberty’s heart folded. She thought of Natasha’s son, Arthur, and how precious he’d felt as he’d nuzzled against her, warm and baby soft. The scene was peaceful and still, and warm air whispered through the church. Alex stepped away, but Liberty was mesmerised. She had the sensation of witnessing something ordinary yet magical. Mundane yet miraculous. This church at the top of the hill, the simplicity of the scene, the low hum of singing and the quiet snuffles of the sleeping baby.

  It made her heart twist, and she knew she’d never forget this starry night.

  Thursday, 25 December

  The next morning they woke late.

  ‘Happy Christmas,’ Alex said softly. He kissed her. ‘What do you want to do this morning?’

  ‘Shouldn’t we help prepare lunch?’

  ‘Jules and Caroline offered to do it, and it’ll be ready around one. So until then we are free to do whatever we want.’ He smiled seductively. He’d happily stay in bed a little longer.

  ‘In that case, you could show me around the area.’ He pouted in exaggerated disappointment and she smiled but continued, ‘I’d love to see where you grew up, where you and Luc went to school, all the places that have meaning for you.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said slowly, his brain beginning to work out a route. He liked the idea of showing her round, sharing his memories with her, his past. He was glad to be back and hoped she’d love the place as much as he did. ‘Do you prefer to go by car or bike?’

  ‘Bike.’

  ‘You’re not frightened any more?’

  ‘No. I trust you. You’re a safe driver. And although the bike is noisy, I feel more in touch with my surroundings on it – the smells, the weather,’ she smiled, ‘even the bumps in the road.’

  ‘Hopefully there won’t be too many bumps.’

  ‘And you won’t go too fast, will you?’

  He kissed her. ‘Not unless you tell me to.’

  ‘Do you have any helmets like Guy’s where we can speak to each other?’

  ‘I do.’

  She grinned. ‘What are you waiting for, then?’

  Babette and Bernard’s house wasn’t in the town where Alex had lived as a boy, but it wasn’t far and he’d had friends who lived in this village and those nearby. He hadn’t been back much during the last twenty-five years, but the country roads, vineyards and fields had hardly changed. In fact, when he caught the smells of woodsmoke and rosemary they transported him back to his childhood, and the emotions that accompanied those memories surprised him.

  He took Liberty to Château Duval first of all, Luc’s family’s estate, and he drove slowly past their vineyards. Then they followed the road down into town, passing fields, which, in summer, were filled with sunflowers or lavender. He pointed out the primary school he and Luc had attended, the café and the market square, which was, of course, deserted today, but he remembered it noisy with traders and locals, the air filled with the smell of hot food and fresh produce. Finally, he stopped near the main fountain and they dismounted.

  They sat on a bench, and he swept his gaze over the square and the small playground nearby. The gravel area was empty now, but he was certain that later there’d be a handful of men playing boules, perhaps children on the slide too. Water flowed quietly from the fountain, and he remembered how on cold winter days it used to freeze.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Liberty asked him. ‘You look troubled.’ He’d lent her a jacket and her hair seemed even more vibrant against the black leather.

  ‘Nothing.’

  She arched her brows as if she knew better than to accept that.

  ‘It’s just … strange to be back. I haven’t been here for – well, years.’ He added, ‘Apart from Luc’s wedding, but that was a flying visit.’

  ‘Why not? It’s a beautiful place.’

  Good question. Why had he stayed away so long? He leaned forward and touched his fingertips together as he considered it. ‘I suppose I thought it would wake bad memories of my parents’ unhappy relationship.’

  ‘And does it?’

  ‘Not as much as I’d expected.’ Hardly at all, in fact. Mostly, he remembered the freedom he’d enjoyed as a boy, exploring with his brothers and Luc, cycling, climbing trees, building dens. He leaned back and gazed up. He’d forgotten how bold the blue sky was, and he pictured the place in summer with the tall plane trees in full leaf, the scent of sun-baked earth, and the tarmacked road shimmering in the heat. His lips remembered the sweet taste of freshly picked peaches.

  Perhaps he hadn’t been so aware of his parents’ problems as a child, because warm memories flooded back of big family meals eaten outside in the shade with his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. The sense of belonging hit him unexpectedly. Provence had felt like home.

  And although his parents’ marriage had always been troubled, his mum had been happy here. She appeared even happier now she was embarking on a new phase in her life, and that was a weight off his mind.

  ‘It was a nice place to grow up,’ he said finally.

  Liberty smiled. ‘I can imagine you tearing through the countryside with Luc. How old were you when you first learned to ride a motorbike?’

  ‘Not as young as you might think. At six I was doing wheelies on a pushbike. But it wasn’t until I was ten that I stole one of Dad’s bikes to have a go.’

  ‘You stole one? Why?’

  ‘Because I desperately wanted to ride it, but I wasn’t allowed.’

  ‘No wonder if you were ten! You could have killed yourself. So when you stole it did you know how to ride?’

  He grinned. ‘I had no clue, but I’d had a dream the night before so I was convinced I knew it all.’

  Her laughter echoed around the empty square. ‘Oh, the arrogance! I hope you fell off and learned your lesson.’

  He shook his head. ‘Worse. I crashed it in a nearby field and damaged a wooden gate. The farmer dragged me home by the ear.’

  ‘What did your dad say? He must have been so angry. You could have been hurt.’

  He stopped laughing. ‘He wasn’t there. Just my mother.’ The memory was still vivid. ‘And she wasn’t angry, she was sad.’

  ‘Sad? Why?’

  ‘Because she knew I’d inherited his passion, but she didn’t want me to follow his example and race for a living. She was scared I’d crash.’

  ‘I’m guessing accidents happen often in racing,’ she said quietly. ‘She knew the risks.’

  ‘Yes. There are dynasties of motorcycle racers where two or more men in the same family have died.’

  ‘Their poor mothers and partners.’ She shuddered. Then turned to him. ‘When are you going to tell your family that you’re not racing any more?’

  His mouth flattened and he tensed at the prospect. ‘Soon.
’

  Her phone pinged. She pulled it out of her pocket and read the message. Her eyebrows knotted.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘A message from Evie. She’s wishing me a happy Christmas and asking if I’m still doing the challenge.’

  He grinned. ‘I presume you haven’t told her that I count as one of your ticks.’

  Her cheeks flooded with colour. ‘I – I was only kidding about that.’

  He wasn’t sure why that came as a relief. He became more serious. ‘Do you want to continue with the challenge?’

  ‘Definitely. I’ve got less than a week left, and nothing could be harder than getting on that plane. It seems silly to give up now.’

  ‘But you decide the rules of the challenge, don’t you? Doesn’t being in a foreign place count?’

  She tilted her head and considered this. ‘Yes, it’s a break from my routine, and spending Christmas with your family counts for today, but I’d like to find more challenges for the next few days. Exciting things to do or places to visit.’

  ‘I can help you with that.’ He winked.

  She side-eyed him. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Your challenges will all involve high-speed or daredevil activities.’

  ‘They don’t have to. If you like I could show you the area. Provence stretches from the mountains right down to the coast.’

  She held up her phone. ‘Evie asked to see photographs of what I’ve done.’

  ‘Not a problem. Leave it to me. I’ll plan at least one new experience for each day you’re here.’ To be honest, he was excited at the prospect too.

  ‘Okay. But I want to see the list first.’

  He grinned and shook his head. ‘It’ll be more fun if each day is a surprise.’

  ‘I think you should run your ideas by me. How will you know if I’ll find them challenging or not?’

  ‘I know you well enough, Liberty McKenzie.’

  ‘But what if they’re too scary? Too extreme? Or dangerous? I want to complete the challenge, but I have boundaries, you know.’

  ‘The surprise will add to the experience. Trust me. I promise that by the end of this week you’ll have finished your challenge and fallen in love with Provence too.’

  Liberty watched as Jules carried the roast to the table. The noisy chatter paused as everyone oohed and aahed over the crispy golden goose. They’d already enjoyed a delicious smoked salmon starter and the wine was flowing freely. She’d had a fabulous day. Being stranded at Christmas was turning out to have been a stroke of luck, although she knew she’d landed on her feet because Alex’s family were so kind and congenial.

  ‘Who wants to carve?’ asked Babette.

  Everyone turned to Bernard. ‘I’m no good at carving,’ he said.

  ‘Alex?’ Babette asked.

  He pushed his chair back and his mother handed him a knife. He set to work confidently, as if he’d done this many times before.

  Meanwhile, Victor topped up their glasses. He held out the empty bottle. ‘Is there any more?’

  ‘It’s in the cellar,’ Bernard said. ‘I’ll go in a minute.’

  They began to eat and the conversation resumed. Liberty had been telling Alex’s mum about her challenge.

  ‘What made you start this saying yes?’ Babette asked.

  Liberty thought back to her birthday. ‘Because I felt my life was too quiet and predictable. I wanted to try being braver.’

  ‘Liberty has a phobia of flying,’ said Alex, who was sitting next to her, ‘but she flew to France to enter her friend’s quilt in the show.’

  Babette’s eyes widened. ‘You are very courageuse.’

  ‘Oh, not really.’ Liberty smiled. ‘Not compared to daredevils like Alex who race at terrifying speeds and get back on even after they’ve survived terrible accidents.’ She thought of the scars that marked his body. They told the story of all he’d been through far better than words ever could. They filled her with admiration and wonder. He was brave. Fearless.

  His mum pursed her lips. ‘Ah, well, I’m not sure if that is courage or stupidity.’ Her tone was disapproving but her eyes were warm with affection. She added, ‘I worry about him so much.’

  Alex held his mother’s gaze and said quietly, ‘Actually, you don’t need to worry any more, Maman. I’m retiring from racing.’

  Babette stilled. ‘C’est vrai? Quand?’ In her shock she seemed to forget to speak English.

  The room hushed.

  ‘Now.’ He lifted his wrist and pointed to the scar. ‘This hasn’t healed as I hoped it would. I tried everything, but the doctors are unanimous. It’s game over.’

  His words were met with a shocked silence.

  Eventually Jules asked, ‘What are you going to do? I know you’re not stuck for money, but how will you fill your days?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s partly why I went to England – to get away while I thought about this.’

  Babette smiled with relief. ‘Well, at least now I can stop worrying that you might crash or get killed.’

  A muscle ticked in Alex’s jaw. ‘Racing is my passion. It will be difficult to live without it.’

  ‘I know. But perhaps it’s a blessing too.’

  His eyes narrowed angrily. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Do you think you’re the first person on earth to have had his hopes dashed? Some people have their dreams crushed before they’ve even had chance to get started. At least you had a good go at yours. You won trophies and you’ve been world champion.’

  There was a pause. Then Alex said, ‘You’re right. As always, Maman.’ He glanced around the table. ‘I’m going public with the news in a few days. I wanted you all to know first.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll fetch more wine from the cellar.’

  He left the room and the family sat in silence as the news sank in.

  ‘Now I understand,’ said Babette.

  Victor agreed. ‘I thought it was strange when he suddenly disappeared off to England. He never has long periods of time off normally.’

  Babette looked at Liberty. ‘He’s not very good at dealing with this kind of thing. He likes to always win, always be the fastest, the best.’

  Jules said quietly, ‘I bet he sees it as some kind of failure.’

  ‘He’s taken it hard,’ Liberty agreed. ‘Once he finds an alternative career I’m sure he’ll feel happier, but at the moment it’s not clear what that will be.’

  ‘He’s just like his father,’ said Babette. ‘Gérard raced long after most men would have stopped. He had a fiercely competitive streak. Alex gets it from him.’

  Liberty knew Alex would bristle at being compared to his father, but there was no escaping the traits that bonded a family.

  Friday, 26 December

  The next morning, Liberty was woken early by Alex whispering her name. She smiled, eyes still closed, and reached into the space beside her to touch him.

  The mattress was still warm – but empty. Frowning, she opened her eyes. He was standing beside the bed fully dressed.

  She sat up, her head muddled. ‘What—’

  He held a finger to his lips.

  She glanced at the alarm clock. It was early, still dark outside, and he was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. His hair was even more ruffled than usual, as if he’d only just got up himself. ‘What’s going on?’

  He smiled. ‘Time for today’s challenge. Come on. You need to get dressed.’

  She really didn’t want to. The bed was so soft and warm. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’ll spoil the surprise if I tell you. Trust me.’

  She groaned and slumped back against her pillow. ‘Wouldn’t you rather stay in bed?’ she asked, arching an eyebrow seductively.

  His eyes gleamed. ‘I got dressed first so you couldn’t tempt me. It will be worth getting up for, I promise.’

  She bit her lip. He seemed excited about whatever this surprise was. ‘Okay,’ she said, with an exaggerated sigh.

  He beamed. ‘Get dressed and w
ear sensible shoes. You’ve got five minutes.’

  They tiptoed downstairs to the back door and into the garden.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ she whispered, as they crossed the lawn and headed towards the forest.

  Alex held a lantern torch, which cast a wide beam of light onto the ground ahead, but the night around them was dense. ‘Hold my hand,’ he said, ‘and follow in my footsteps.’

  The only sounds were of their feet crunching on dry twigs and her ragged breathing as they climbed the steep hill. It reminded her of her daily walks with Charlie, only here the woods smelt less damp and peaty, and the scent of pine was stronger. She held Alex’s hand and followed him blindly through the trees. His touch made her tingle with awareness.

  ‘Nearly there now,’ said Alex, as the trees thinned and his torchlight illuminated a rocky ledge. ‘Keep tight hold of me. If you slip it’s a long way down.’

  Liberty gripped his hand and edged forward. When he sat down on a large stone, she followed suit, glad to stop and rest.

  ‘You all right?’ he asked, propping the torch up between them so it lit their faces.

  She nodded, still a little breathless from the climb. He must be super-fit because he didn’t seem even slightly tired. The torchlight drew patterns of light and dark shadow across his face, emphasising his cheekbones and the straight line of his nose. Above him was a cluster of stars, but the moon must have been hidden behind the trees.

  ‘We’re just in time,’ he said.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Look over there,’ said Alex, and pointed in front of them.

  He switched off the torch and Liberty realised the light had begun to change. Wispy grey perforated the darkness so the silhouettes of the trees came into focus.

  Across the valley, behind the low hills in the distance, the sky became bluer, then tinged with coral pink. A warm glow laced the edge of a solitary cloud. Alex pulled out his phone to film it.

  ‘Is this why you brought me here?’ Liberty whispered, without taking her eyes off the horizon. Little by little, the colours were changing, unfurling like a flower. Gold and orange swam into pale aqua, and the valley below had turned ink-blue.