Chapter 27 Charlotte
Charlotte
Grandma might have been horrified at the mess Jacob had made of her doormat.
Charlotte, however, just found it cute that he had waited outside for so long that she had worried that, had it not been nearly nine o’clock, the neighbour’s kids might have come outside with scarves, hats and bits of coal to decorate the snowman-sized lump standing on the pavement in front of her house.
And once she had shaken off his coat and hat, he looked human again, his cheeks flushed with cold.
When she took his hand and led him through to the kitchen, it was so cold she was careful not to squeeze too hard in case his fingers broke off.
She sat him down at the dining room table and poured hot chocolate out of a saucepan.
Now that he was in the house, everything that he had said to Kelly hung unspoken in the air between them.
Charlotte passed him a steaming mug and sat down opposite him, encircling her own cup with her hands.
For his part, Harry had decided to keep watch on Jacob, by sitting at his feet, tongue lolling.
It was a good sign, particularly when compared to the dog’s reaction to James.
‘So,’ Charlotte said, unsure what to say now that the hot chocolate had been delivered. ‘What should we do now?’
Jacob’s eyes seemed to look everywhere but at her. She wondered what he thought of Grandma’s old wood panelling, and wondered if she ought to consider giving it a refresh.
‘I shouldn’t stop long,’ he said. ‘It’s late and I’m sure you have work in the morning.’
‘Yes, that’s true. And you do too?’
‘Yes. My aunt’s tearoom.’
‘How long have you worked there?’
‘Oh, a few years now. It doesn’t pay that well, but it’s fun. I enjoy talking to the customers, particularly the regulars. It gives you a feeling of community, you know?’
‘I feel the same about school. Although, each time the kids go up a class and I have to say goodbye, I shed a little tear.’
‘I can imagine. It must be like being a second mother to them all.’
‘Yes, I suppose it is. So, your own mother, is she all right?’
‘She struggles, but she gets by. The neighbours are kind. A couple of them also have chronic illnesses of one kind or another, so they tend to look out for each other. They have a lot of street barbeques and get togethers, things like that.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Yes, it is.’
They made a little small talk while they drank their hot chocolate, although Jacob drank his way too fast, and kept looking up at the clock above the larder cupboard.
He looked nervous, keen to leave. Charlotte began to wonder whether he was having second thoughts, that everything she had thought about him might not be true.
As though locked in by a routine, at the moment the clock touched ten, he stood up. ‘I really should be getting back,’ he said. ‘It’s late. I feel so sorry for keeping you up.’
‘Really? I don’t mind. It’s been … nice.’
‘Yes.’ His eyes lingered on her, studying her face.
She swallowed, feeling so differently to how she had felt with James.
Despite the magnificence of the places he had taken her, she had spent the whole time wondering when she could leave.
Now, she felt the complete opposite. She wanted to hold on to Jacob, stop him from leaving, but he was already walking to the door, reaching for his coat, still shiny from melted snow.
She followed him, wondering if she were standing too close. He looked ready to leave whether she liked it or not, pulling on a woolly hat. She noticed he had no gloves, and frowned, wondering if she had some, anything she could offer him to keep him here, but he was already reaching for the door.
He opened it onto a raging blizzard. The street had gone; they could see as far as the pavement beyond her little front garden, but not much further. The tyre tracks left by Kelly’s car had been filled in, and the snow had stacked up along the top of the garden wall four inches deep.
‘Oh dear,’ Charlotte said. ‘I really don’t think you should walk home in this. I have … I have … a spare room.’
Jacob looked at her. His eyes studied her, and for a moment she thought he would shake his head and refuse, then turn away, and she didn’t know what she would do if he did. Maybe break apart into little pieces, dissolve into the snow blown on to the mat at her feet.
‘Thank you,’ he said, and her heart filled with so much happiness that she stood up on tiptoe and almost clapped her hands.
Even though, he still stood on the doorstep, as the snowflakes landed on his coat, melting into the fabric.
But no thanks, she thought. Thanks, but I’ll take my chances. See you again, Charlotte. Maybe.
And then he smiled. ‘Do you want to build a snowman?’ he asked, and she let out a little squeal.
‘What, right now?’
‘Right now.’
‘Are you crazy?’
He shrugged. ‘It might be raining in the morning. Now’s our chance.’
All she could find for him was a pair of Grandma’s thick gardening gloves and hers were hardly designed for handling copious volumes of snow, so by the time they were done, they were both tired and cold.
However, now a magnificent snowman, wearing a scarf wrapped with solar fairy lights Charlotte had found in a box of Christmas decorations, an old bicycle helmet, and with olives for eyes and a cucumber for a nose, stood on the pavement beneath the nearest streetlight.
Jacob grinned, lifting a hand for Charlotte to high-five him.
‘It’s perfect,’ Charlotte said.
‘The best snowman ever,’ Jacob agreed.
‘Are you cold?’
‘Freezing.’
‘More hot chocolate?’
‘Great.’
They headed inside. Back in the kitchen, a little of the awkwardness returned, but they had something between them now, some life memory to share.
‘I haven’t made a snowman like that since I was a kid,’ Jacob said. ‘I remember this one year it snowed really heavily, but usually it just rains, doesn’t it?’
‘I hope it doesn’t rain this year,’ Charlotte said.
‘Me too.’
They looked at each other. They were only standing a couple of paces apart, close enough that if they reached out one hand each, they could touch. Charlotte stared at him, feeling both thrilled and queasy at the same time.
Jacob cleared his throat. ‘Are … are your hands … cold?’
Charlotte swallowed. ‘Yes.’
He lifted a hand. She lifted a hand. They hung awkwardly for a moment like two children practising greetings.
Then Jacob’s fingers touched hers. He ran his forefinger along hers and she felt a little tingle at his touch.
It hooked beneath hers and slowly drew her in.
He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, resting his cheek on the side of her head.
Neither of them spoke. He didn’t try to kiss her, just held her gently like a fragile bird, keeping her safe. She let her breathing be slow and gentle, let her thoughts still, her worries dissipate. She could have stayed like that forever.
‘Jacob,’ she whispered.
‘Charlotte,’ she heard him whisper back, his voice as gentle as a breeze.