Chapter 32
32
No magical snow plough arrives. No gritter either. There are enough shovels to go around, so everyone – Frida and Theo excepted – digs away at the snow around the cars. However, Niall and Roger do the lion’s share and by lunchtime the two men are visibly spent as they all return to the kitchen.
‘Well, we had to try,’ Niall says, catching Pearl’s eye, ‘but there’s no chance of getting out of here today.’
‘No, I realise that,’ Pearl says. Hours before, the three women had reassured each other that of course the snow would clear for tomorrow. Now Pearl isn’t so sure. ‘Thanks for all that digging, though,’ she adds, aware of Frida’s rising agitation.
‘We’re the ones with something to get back to,’ she retorts, and Lena appears from the lounge. Her hands are filthy with ash and soot from cleaning out the fireplace.
‘What d’you mean?’ she asks Frida.
‘Well, Christmas!’
‘We all have Christmas coming,’ Shelley points out. ‘We all have things to do and people back home…’
Niall disappears briefly and returns brandishing a basket of logs from the woodshed. ‘Let’s try and stay positive,’ he says. ‘If there’s a thaw tonight, then we can all leave first thing in the morning, can’t we?’
‘In time for Christmas!’ Frida announces.
‘But what about Stan and the hens?’ Niall turns to Shelley. ‘With Michael not being here, who’ll look after them if we leave?’
‘He’s planning to catch a flight to Glasgow as soon as the thaw comes,’ she explains. ‘And if there’s a delay, he said his friend Harry from the farm down the road can take care of things here. So that’s not a problem.’
‘So, we’re all sorted then?’ Frida looks hopeful.
‘Not really,’ Lena starts, frowning. ‘There’s a huge amount of snow out there, Frida. There’s no guarantee it’ll melt away overnight?—’
‘But it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow!’ she exclaims.
‘Yes, but the weather doesn’t know that,’ Lena says. ‘We can’t wish it away, much as we’d love to?—’
‘I do realise that,’ Frida snaps, grey eyes flashing. Lena’s heart rate quickens as she quells her urge to snap back. She is unused to dealing with this kind of lack of logic.
‘I’m just saying,’ she says, trying to remain patient, ‘that if there’s no thaw overnight, and no gritters or snowploughs come up this way, then it’s likely that we’re all going to be here for Christmas…’
‘Oh, God, Leen.’ Shelley looks at her. ‘Let’s not even go there.’
‘How would Joel react, if you’re stuck here?’
Shelley shakes her head. ‘I don’t even want to think about it. You know he wasn’t best pleased about me going away so close to Christmas.’
‘How about you, Pearl?’ Niall asks. ‘How would your crew manage without you?’
‘Brandon and Abi?’ Her heart seems to squeeze at the thought of spending Christmas apart from her son. ‘I’m sure they’d cope. But…’ She breaks off as her eyes mist. ‘I feel so responsible, suggesting this trip in the first place. Coming up to the Highlands in winter…’ She looks at her friends. ‘Of course it could snow! Why didn’t I think of that?’
‘Hey, we were all in on this,’ Shelley says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. ‘We’re all responsible.’
‘…Or irresponsible,’ Pearl mutters, focusing now on making teas and coffees for everyone, because Niall is right. Lamenting their situation isn’t helping.
It’s only Lena who isn’t exactly feeling desolate at the prospect of spending Christmas at Shore Cottage. In fact, she decides, as she takes herself off to their bedroom, it’s becoming more appealing by the hour. Here in the stillness of their airy room, she perches on the chair at the window and looks out over the silvery loch.
If they’re snowed in for Christmas, she reflects, there’ll be no William and Annabelle making barbed comments about her ‘background’ and peering around her flat in disdain. (She once heard Annabelle telling Tommy that she ‘could never live in a flat’). And there’ll be no stressing over how to cram a turkey, a joint of beef and a trough of roast potatoes into her poky little oven. In his gamely fashion, Tommy has assured her that things can be ‘kept warm under foil’ and then ‘given another hot blast near the finish’. But the logistics are still making Lena’s head spin. And managing to serve up a piping hot meal to her future in-laws isn’t really the issue. It’s about their disdain and judgement of her.
‘And what does your father do , Lena?’ Who even asks that, in this day and age? She knew what Annabelle was getting at. That she expected Lena to say he ran a corner shop.
‘He’s an accountant,’ she replied.
‘Oh!’ Annabelle hadn’t known what to say after that. And now Lena stands up at the window, gripping her phone, wanting to call Tommy, but also not wanting to. They spoke first thing and she broke the news about the snowfall. ‘Let’s just hope it thaws,’ he said. ‘There’s still time, isn’t there? And then you’ll still be able to catch your flight?’
She agreed that there was, and told him a little about the snow-covered hills and the cosiness of Shore Cottage. ‘That sounds lovely!’ he enthused. Yet there was an awkwardness there, as if there was more than physical distance between them. As if he was holding something back. She didn’t mention seeing Daisy’s photo of the festive family lunch. It didn’t matter, she told herself. Tommy was only having pizza with his family. What was wrong with that?
She calls him again now, wanting to reassure herself that everything is okay. ‘Snow still bad, darling?’ he asks.
‘Just the same,’ she replies. ‘It’s freezing out there and the forecast isn’t looking good…’
‘Oh God, really?’
‘Yeah. I do feel a bit stupid coming up here the week before Christmas. What was I thinking?’
‘Honey, you needed a break with your friends,’ he insists. ‘You’ve been working so hard. And you weren’t to know this would happen…’
‘I guess you’re right. Anyway, I haven’t asked about you,’ she adds.
‘Oh, all’s good here. I’m missing you of course. Can’t wait to see you. But I saw Daisy yesterday?—’
‘And Catherine,’ Lena blurts out before she can stop herself.
She feels him take a breath. ‘Yes, um… she came for lunch too. Bit of a surprise. But Daisy wanted her to join us and I couldn’t really say no?—’
‘No, there was no reason to,’ Lena says quickly, feeling ridiculous to be so rattled by a casual photo on Daisy’s social media. What’s wrong with her? It’s not Catherine who’s the problem. It’s Tommy’s parents – and the way he bends to their wishes every time. And now Lena wonders if it might be easier for him to entertain his parents on Christmas Day at her place without her being there.
She doesn’t exactly love the idea. Not because she imagines Annabelle and William rifling through her private things – she has absolutely nothing to hide – but because the flat is hers, hard won and cherished, a place of refuge after her divorce. The thought of the Huntleys marching in and occupying it, even just for one night, feels very wrong to Lena. However, she’s starting to think it would be preferable to the alternative.
She finishes the call rather curtly and gazes out at the snow-covered landscape, almost willing more snow to fall. Just enough, she thinks, to keep them here for a couple more days. So she can avoid the Huntleys.
Lena knows it’s mad to think like this, and that it’ll be awful for Shelley and Pearl if they can’t fly home for Christmas. So it’s selfish of her really. So horribly mean to wish they’d be snowed in.
She also knows she should tolerate Annabelle and William with an eye roll and not let them get to her. After all, in April, Lena is marrying Tommy at High Gables and Annabelle has already booked the string quartet. Lena’s parents and siblings will all travel down to the Berkshire pile from their red brick terraced house in Manchester. It has already been decided that there will be a formal sit-down meal, which Lena wouldn’t have chosen, and of course all of Team Huntley will be there: the braying brothers and the glossy wives, and their children – not that Lena doesn’t like children, but these are a type , feral-with-privileges, tangle-haired and grubby-faced, but with cello lessons and cricket whites and a surefire entry into Eton.
Fucking hell , she breathes out loud. People shouldn’t feel that way about their forthcoming wedding, but Lena is having the kind of wedding she never wanted to have. How did she allow this to happen?
Still, it’s too late to do anything about it now, she decides, her gaze fixed on the distant hills all swathed in snow. Christmas comes first. That’s the first hurdle to get over.
And now, as if by magic, fat snowflakes start to fall, coming thicker and faster by the second. And Lena’s heart lifts as she watches from the window of the cosy room.
‘Thank you, snow,’ she whispers. ‘Thank you so much.’