Chapter Five
We buy an umbrella in the shop before we leave, but it turns out we didn’t need to bother because the rain has conveniently stopped by the time we get outside.
Daniela gives me a sympathetic look as she puts on a bright red hat over her braids, but there’s nothing else to be done as we begin the trek back to the van.
I’m so focused on just getting inside now and out of my wet shoes that I almost walk us right by it.
“What?” Daniela asks as I stop abruptly.
“This is us.”
Her brow furrows. “I thought you were borrowing your dad’s car. When did you get this?”
“It’s Liam’s.” I hadn’t actually planned this moment. Every time I pictured her reaction, we were in it and it was snowing and we were toasting marshmallows or something. It seems less impressive now. “He’s letting us borrow it for Christmas,” I continue. “So we can have more privacy this year.”
“You mean we’re going to sleep in it?”
My stomach sinks. I can’t tell anything from her expression. Can’t hear anything in her tone. “If you want to,” I say lightly. “I promise it’s warm. And it looks amazing when the fairy lights are on. It’s just I know you love camping and—”
She bounces forward and kisses my cheek.
“It’s perfect, Hannah. I love it. Seriously. You must have spent so much time on it.”
“Liam did most of the work,” I mumble as I open the door. “After you.”
“This is so cool,” she says as she steps inside. “I’ve never— oh my god, there’s a kettle!”
She spends a few minutes ooh and ahhing over everything before we climb into the front seats.
“I can’t believe he doesn’t use it,” she says, running her hands along the dashboard before reaching for the radio.
“It doesn’t work.”
“That’s okay.” She gets her phone out and starts up a playlist. She seems happy, but I can’t relax even as I pull onto the road without incident.
Daniela is a terrible liar, which means I’d be able to tell if she was just being nice.
She looks like she genuinely loves it, which should make me feel better, but I still can’t shake my anxiety.
The traffic doesn’t help. We’re bumper to bumper all the way to the motorway, and the cloud overhead still looks heavy with rain, which doesn’t help my already shaky confidence when it comes to keeping us alive.
On top of that, I think Daniela picks up on my mood because, despite my best efforts, she goes quiet, scrolling through her phone and shooting me glances every few seconds as we trundle along. Then, out of nowhere, she whacks me on the arm.
“Christmas tree farm.”
“What?” I ask, bewildered.
“Christmas tree farm!” She sits up, pointing at a handmade sign as we pass it. “Next exit.”
“So?”
“So let’s go.”
I glance at her and back at the road. For all my insisting that I wanted to be alone with her, the only thing I want to do right now is get home. But the traffic is still terrible and I suppose it couldn’t hurt to let it pass for a bit.
“Will there still be trees this close to Christmas?” I ask.
“Of course. People are lazy. Come on. Maybe they’ll have mulled wine.”
“I’m driving.”
“I’m not,” she sings and shoots me such an evil grin that I can’t help but smile.
“Fine,” I say, flicking my indicator on. “Christmas tree farm.”
She cheers as we turn off at the exit and five minutes later we pull up alongside a stretch of land backing onto a forest.
The place doesn’t look bad, actually. The way things are going today, I wouldn’t be surprised to rock up to some scraggly branches and get charged ten euro for the privilege.
But it looks big and professional and there are lots of other people here too.
They even have a few food trucks doling out burgers and churros, and while there’s no mulled wine, I spy a hot chocolate stand by the main booth.
Everyone is smiling. Everyone looks excited.
A teenage girl decked head to toe in Christmas gear poses purposefully as her friend takes pictures.
A young couple strap a tree to the roof of their car while their daughter plays with her dog.
It has light-up reindeer antlers on its head. I immediately want them for Polly.
“Do you know what’s cool?” Daniela asks when we park.
“Trees?”
“Trees,” she confirms. “I think I’m going to get into trees.”
We hop out and approach an older man and a girl around our age standing by the booth.
“Welcome!” she calls as we approach. “Mind your step. The ground is a little muddy from the rain. Good for the trees, though.”
“It must be,” Daniela says, gazing up at the nearest firs. “How do you get them to grow like that?”
“Magic,” the girl winks, only for the man to huff.
“It’s all in the fertilization,” he says authoritatively. “We maintain a careful schedule of nitrogen, sulphated potash—”
“Okay, thanks Dad,” the girl interrupts, stepping in front of him. “Take your time,” she says to us. “Have a look around. Leave us a review if you can. Happy Christmas!”
She smiles brightly and practically drags her father away, whispering furtively to him as she goes. “You promised no more potash talk,” I hear before they vanish.
Daniela turns to me. “They seem normal. Let’s explore before it starts raining again.”
“Sound good,” I chirp as she heads into the trees.
Sounds perfect actually. This place looks straight out of a Christmas movie.
I should be thrilled, but all I feel is distracted and antsy.
Like there’s an itch under my skin. It makes me want to grab her and go back to the van even though I wasn’t happy when we were there either.
I just don’t know what I thought would happen.
Maybe that she’d take one look at me and immediately announce she was staying?
I guess, yes. That’s exactly what I thought.
I tell myself to get it together. To stop moping around. I remind my brain that I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. That this is all I wanted. For her to be here. And yet it’s like all I can think about is her not being here. Her leaving. Her gone.
So I say nothing as I trail after her, weaving between the pines. She pauses every now and then to admire them but otherwise doesn’t stop, wandering deeper until the crowds thin out around us. Until it’s just us and the trees and the faint music in the background.
Finally, we reach the boundary where the farm ends and the forest begins. A light drizzle starts up again, but it’s not heavy enough to worry about, and Daniela only pulls her hat further down as she turns to face me.
She looks unusually serious.
I feel sick. Is this it? Did she want privacy for a reason? Is she going to tell me that she’s leaving? That she’s decided to—
“DASHER!”
We both freeze, staring at each other in confusion as the frantic shout rings out. A second later, we jump back as something bursts through the trees, almost barreling into us.
It takes me a moment to realize it’s the dog the little girl was playing with earlier. It races by so fast that I can only tell by the felt antlers on its head.
The child wails out again, as the dog, Dasher presumably, disappears into the forest. I don’t even think as I chase after him.
Daniela calls my name, but I know how big this forest is, and I know how easy it would be for a dog as small as that to get lost.
Thankfully, the antlers are still lit up, and the flashing lights help me keep track as he bounds deeper into the woods. The little guy lives up to his name as he shoots away from me, and I’m relieved when the way is suddenly blocked by a fallen trunk and he’s forced to come to a halt.
“Dasher?”
He turns to face me, looking fully delighted with himself.
“I know you think we’re playing,” I caution as I step toward him. “But you’re going to regret your actions when the sun goes down and you’re in a cold dark forest and not your bed.”
He jumps from side to side, tail wagging.
I know I could play the patient game, but I’m too worried he’ll realize he can simply go around the trunk.
So I lunge for him. I throw myself forward, grabbing his wriggling body as my feet slide in the mud, sending both of us sprawling.
I twist at the last second, clutching him to my chest as I fall, wincing from the impact.
I may have managed to not crush the dog, but I have definitely earned myself a bruised ass for the next few weeks.
There’s shouting behind us, and I tighten as my grip as Dasher tries to get to his owners before giving up and licking my face instead.
That’s how the others find me. Daniela appears first, then the out-of-breath dad before the mother and distraught child.
“For the love of—” The dad cuts himself off, hurrying toward me. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “He slipped his lead.”
“I figured.”
I pass Dasher his way as Daniela offers a hand to help me up.
I forget to hide my discomfort, which of course gets everyone’s attention.
It sets off another round of apologies and finally, just to get the girl to stop crying and to get out of the damn woods, I agree to let them buy us a tree to say thank you.
I don’t feel comfortable driving with one on the roof, so Daniela picks out a mini one designed for windowsills and carries it back to the parking lot as the rain falls harder.
“I think you just saved Christmas,” she murmurs, waving as the family drive off with a beep. We’re the last visitors left. The dog drama took so long that they’re closing up. We didn’t even get a hot chocolate. “You okay?”
I nod, trying to brush off the worst of the mud, but it’s useless. I’m now not only wet, but filthy, and maybe Daniela knows I’m close to tears because her expression softens and she doesn’t reach for me as she gestures to the van.
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s get you home.”