Chapter Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Seven
Back upstairs, Priya has finally found Dylan, who jogs back into the main room and stops in front of me. “What’s wrong with your face?”
“Rude.”
“You look moody. Cheer up, it’s your birthday in…” he checks his watch, “whoosh, only fifty minutes.”
“Guys!” Sam calls. “It’s snowing again!”
“What?!” Priya asks, jogging into the room. “But we’re going home tomorrow, right?”
I walk over to the windows that look out over the hot-tub decking. The snow is falling thick and fast. Big, fat clumps of white fluff adding an additional layer to the already frozen-solid snow below that.
Even though I’m not dressed for it at all, it entices me outside. I step into the cold, dark night and watch the snow settle softly on my palm before melting. With the door shut behind me, there’s only muffled noise from within. Outside, there’s a gentle serenity.
The door opens again, and I look over my shoulder to find Sam coming out to join me. “Love the snow,” he says, grinning, that familiar glint in his eye. He hands me my coat, which makes me smile. “Didn’t want you to turn into Elsa.”
“Trust you to pick a Disney character.”
“It’s called being cultured.”
“I’m not sure visiting Disneyland Paris twice makes you cultured.”
Sam sniffs. “I’ve been to Florida too.”
“Ah well, then yeah, you must be cultured.”
He nudges me with his elbow. “Why were you hiding in the cupboard with my brother?”
I swallow, heat pooling in my cheeks. “I wasn’t… It wasn’t…”
“It’s fine,” he says. “I know you’re not stupid enough to fall for his swoony, moody man shit. I’m just checking he’s being kind and all that.”
“Oh sure. Yes. He’s being kind.” And then I think about what he just told me. How he isn’t being totally honest. Totally honest about what? Has he got someone else in the picture? It’s hardly like much is going on between us but Sam’s mention of me falling for Freddie has me questioning everything.
I don’t trust my own instincts anymore.
It makes everything terrifying because how do I know? How do I guess? Who is telling me the truth and who isn’t?
I stuff my hands harder into my pockets, pondering.
“Sam?”
“Hatter?”
“You know I love you, yeah?”
“Has someone given you tequila? You only ever say that when you’ve had tequila.”
I shake my head. “No. Well, yeah. I just… I need you to know. Because I worry I don’t tell you enough. Obviously, we’re not in love, but still. I do love you. Does that make sense? And… I just…”
“Hattie…” Sam says, linking an arm around my neck. He’s not all that much taller than me so I end up crouching down a bit to make it work. So awkward. “We’re good. I know where we stand. I feel the same about you. You’re just soppy because it’s nearly your birthday and you’ll be as ancient as me.”
“You’re the same age.”
“I’m older. It’s important that you respect your elders,” he says, squeezing me closer. “You’re shivering. Let’s go back inside. Priya has a punch on the go. And there’s still some sausage rolls left.”
“You know the more I think about it, the more I agree with Sara. Is this just a kid’s party with booze?”
“I hope so.”
We make our way back inside and Sam offers me control of the music. Although I turn it off and put Jools’ Annual Hootenanny on to count in the New Year. Despite us being here together, we’re so remote and stranded, I feel like I want to bring in a bit of the wider world into this space.
I can’t see Freddie anywhere and I fight the urge to go looking for him. He’s clearly slowing us down for a reason and that’s fine. It’s fine. I’m totally fine about it. Did I say I was fine?
It’s just I’m starting to feel even more rejected, and my head is messy. Does he want me or not?
At five to midnight, Sam decides to go out onto the front drive where there’s at least a bit of a clearing without tree coverage to set the fireworks up.
I go out to supervise but avoid the stairs.
Although if I slipped again, would Freddie sweep me up in his arms like this morning and carry me off to his bed?
Hell, I need to get a grip.
I’m a grown arse woman. I don’t need to be sheepish around him anymore.
If I want something, I should just tell him straight.
I need to stop being all girlish with it.
No wonder he’s being careful with me. He still sees the inexperienced girl from before, the one that’s off limits, the one who would challenge him then dart away.
Well, that’s not me anymore!
I’m bloody twenty-nine in… I check my phone. Shit. 30 seconds.
“Hey, Hattie, get in here!” Sara shouts. “We’ve got to count you in!”
Sam hears too and we make our way back inside where we huddle round the TV, the fire crackling under freshly added firewood.
Freddie catches my eye from across the room and swallows. The screen jumps to the London Eye where the countdown is on the wheel in great, big lights. I don’t look away from him as I take a sip of my fizz.
“That’s for after,” Sara admonishes.
“Ten… nine… eight…”
What isn’t he telling me? And why does it bother me so much? Am I missing something crucial?
“Five… four… three…”
What do I really want from him?
“Two… one…”
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Sam yells from behind me, before throwing his arms round my neck and kissing my head approximately fifty times.
We all shuffle outside for an underwhelming five minutes of fireworks. I do sparklers with Sam for the hell of it. We try to spell our names in the dark with Priya filming, while Sara and Dylan stand on the sidelines judging our joy. Secretly, they wish they were us, I just know it.
Then we humour Sam by singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ which is hilarious because none of us know the words at all. So, it’s mostly hummed or made up.
Thankfully, after that, we go back into the warmth of the lodge where they sing my birthday song which feels silly.
And, damn, we never really grow up, do we?
Because why is it making me roll my eyes and smile like an idiot?
Priya is bringing over the second cake in twenty-four hours and I’m blowing out candles and more drink is being poured and I’m feeling totally overstimulated when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I think it must be Fliss or my parents wishing me a happy birthday or happy New Year and I open the message with a smile.
But no. It’s neither of them.
I pause from celebrating for barely a microsecond, not wanting anyone to read the shock on my face.
Adam has messaged:
Happy birthday, Hattie. I miss you.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that?!