CHAPTER TWELVE
‘I’m going down to see if there’s any room to get my car out now,’ I announce, heading out. ‘Then I could park it up on the main road instead.’ Guessing Rob will come after me, I slip out quickly and close the door firmly behind me, wanting to avoid any more awkward conversation.
I can’t even bear to talk to him at the moment and I’m not sure if that will ever change.
Down in the street, it’s immediately pretty clear I’m wedged in by the truck, and my mind races, trying to think what I’ll do tomorrow if the driver hasn’t returned by then.
The fear that I might not make it to Guildford tomorrow is making me realise just how much I actually want to take part in the competition. It’s come as quite a revelation. Only a few weeks ago, I was adamant I wasn’t going to enter because I wasn’t brave enough.
My heart sinks like a stone in quicksand. Of course, I know exactly what – or should I say who – changed my mind about that.
It was Rob.
He made me start seeing myself differently; start valuing myself more. He gave me the tools to be more confident. He even made me a Superwoman snow globe.
Tears prick my lids. That hand-made snow globe was the loveliest present I’d ever received. I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world when Rob gave it to me. Perhaps, if I could somehow forget what happened, I could still be the luckiest . . . ?
‘Here’s the driver,’ says Rob at my shoulder, making me jump.
Sure enough, the owner of the monster vehicle is trudging along the snow-covered lane. He holds something up. ‘Needed matches. Luckily the corner shop was still open. Is that your car?’
I nod.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll have this thing moved in a jiffy.’ He grins. ‘It would be nice to get to my destination before the snow brings everything to a grinding halt.’
‘Where are you headed?’ Rob asks.
‘I’m supposed to be heading for a winter fair fifty miles from here but I’m wondering if the whole thing will be cancelled if this continues.’ He kicks at the snow, which sprays up in surprising quantities, revealing just how much has fallen in the past few hours alone.
He gets in his cab and starts the engine, winding down his window for a better view. Then he begins the laborious process of trying to reverse the ungainly vehicle back along the snow-logged lane.
Rob and I walk round to his side to help.
‘You’ll need to watch, mate. There’s quite a dip between the road and the village green,’ shouts Rob, and I gaze anxiously behind the truck. The snow is falling so heavily, it’s already impossible to distinguish the road from the green.
And just at that moment, the truck rolls too far to one side and ends up in an alarming tilt, the wheels on our side planted firmly in the deep snow of the village green.
The roar of the truck - attempting to accelerate away - cuts through the freezing night air. But all that happens is the truck inches forward slightly, but then rolls right back again – and after ten minutes of this futile manoeuvring, the driver eventually gives up.
The truck is well and truly stuck.
Which obviously means I’m stuck, too.
The driver shakes his head, looking utterly fed up. ‘Sorry, folks. It’s not budging. Looks like no-one’s going anywhere in this weather.’ He opens his door and jumps down from the cab. ‘The pub I think. Can I buy you both a drink?’
We thank him but decline, and he trudges off with a wave in the direction of The Swan Hotel.
A strong wind is picking up now, making the trees on the village green hurl their snowy branches around. I shiver and Rob tries to put his arm around me, but I swiftly alter my position, moving away from him and heading back to the flat.
‘I’ll take you to Guildford,’ Rob calls after me.
‘No, it’s fine. I’ll manage somehow.’
‘But how? If it carries on snowing like this, there’s unlikely to be any buses running tomorrow.’
‘So I’ll . . . get the train.’
‘The station’s five miles away.’
‘It’s more like three.’
‘Okay. So you’re going to walk three miles through the snow?’
‘Why not?’ I walk into the flat and the lovely warmth hits me. I really don’t want to be having this conversation. But Rob is right behind.
‘Fen, if you leave it till tomorrow, the trains might not even be running. I suggest we go now to beat the worst of the weather.’
‘Now?’ I stare at him. Is he crazy? ‘Where would we stay?’
We’re lingering in the hallway, talking in low voices. Rob shrugs. ‘In a hotel.’
I laugh scornfully. ‘Oh right, so that’s your game!’
‘Sorry?’ He looks puzzled.
‘You think you can lure me to a hotel under false pretences in the hope that if we’re thrown together and you’re being so helpful, I’ll be forced to forgive you?’
He stares at me for a moment. Then he gives a bitter laugh. ‘You’ve got a wild imagination, Fen – presumably from reading all those romance novels that feature “bad boys” as standard.’
I blush bright red. He’s hit a weak spot there. My romance novels have always tended to be a substitute for the real thing and Rob knows it! Without him in my life, I’ve slipped right back into taking refuge in all my old favourites - although strangely, I haven’t been enjoying them as much as I usually do.
I shrug. ‘If the cap fits . . .’
‘I’m not a character in one of your romances, Fen, so please don’t attempt to slot me into the mould,’ Rob barks, looking unusually rattled.
‘So you’re saying you wouldn’t be trying to get me to forgive you?’
He gives an exasperated sigh. ‘No, Fen, I’d be trying to get you to Guildford so you could compete in the bake-off, which I thought was what you wanted.’ He shrugs. ‘You told your dad you were going to do it.’
‘Yes, I did. And I am going to do it!’ I say crossly. ‘But without your help, thank you very much.’
‘Is Rob offering to give you a lift?’ says Jaz, coming through from the kitchen. ‘That’s the perfect solution. If you set off now, you’ll likely get through.’
‘I’ll book a hotel for you,’ calls Ellie from the living room. ‘So you can get a good night’s sleep and be all fresh for tomorrow’s competition.’
Jaz is beaming all over her face – presumably because she thinks her plan to get me and Rob back together could still work, with this latest promising turn of events.
‘Yeah, we’d better leave now if we don’t want to have to wait for the snow ploughs to clear the way,’ says Rob coolly.
‘Here’s your bag.’ Ellie thrusts it into my hand. ‘And keep the wellies. I think you’re going to need them.’
I glower at all three. Rob is leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded, observing me with a hint of a smile on his face.
‘I’m glad you’re finding this amusing,’ I snap at him. His smugness is so annoying, it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’ve changed my mind and I don’t want to go. But what’s the point of cutting off my nose to spite my face?
Rob sighs. ‘Believe me, Fen, this is no joke. I don’t particularly enjoy driving in weather like this but if we’re going to get you to the bake-off, I don’t see any other way.’ He pulls my coat off the nearby peg and holds it open for me to step into.
‘Thank you,’ I say primly, taking it from him and sliding my arm in.
‘You’re welcome,’ he says icily, watching me struggle to find the other arm hole. ‘Need some help?’
‘No thanks.’ I’m getting red in the face and really quite hot, but I’m determined to find this damn hole!
‘It’s inside out.’
I stare at him.
‘The sleeve. It’s inside out,’ he repeats coolly, his lips twitching suspiciously, as if he’s rather enjoying my embarrassment.
With a muttered expletive, I yank the coat off, turn the sleeve the right way, and finally – finally - I’ve got the coat on.
Rob’s eyes flick wearily to the ceiling as he opens the flat door, letting in a blast of cold air. ‘Are we ready?’
Ignoring his sarcasm, I turn and give Ellie and Jaz big hugs.
‘How’s Harry, by the way?’ I ask Jaz, recalling her annoyance at him on New Year’s Eve.
She frowns. ‘Oh, don’t talk to me about him!’
‘You’re not still blaming Harry for Maisie falling in the pond, are you?’ asks Ellie. ‘Because honestly, Maisie’s fine. It was just a storm in a teacup, thank goodness.’
‘Yes, but Harry needs to start being responsible,’ Jaz snaps. ‘Or I honestly can’t see us having a future together.’ She hugs me again. ‘Anyway, good luck, Fen. Knock ‘em dead.’
‘I’ll do my best.’ I smile at her. Then, catching Ellie stifling an exhausted yawn, I murmur that she shouldn’t worry about the roof. ‘Something will turn up,’ I say, although the instant the words are out of my mouth, I realise how hollow they sound. I just don’t want her to feel so wretched.
That’s what Rob says he was doing when he kept the truth about Alicia from me. He didn’t want to add to my pain, with Dad in hospital.
I give my head a little shake as I follow Rob downstairs.
The two situations are entirely different. And I’m determined not to do what I always do – make allowances for a man’s dodgy behaviour just because I think I might be in love with him . . .
Tramping across the village green in Ellie’s pink wellies gives me a little twinge of excitement, in spite of everything. We get heavy snowfalls so rarely in Britain that when it does blanket everything like this, there’s a definite magic in the air.
I look at Rob, striding ahead. Whatever I might think about his motives, he’s doing this for me – driving in snowy conditions that really aren’t great, just so I can realise my dream. My frozen heart thawing a little, I quicken my step to catch him up.
‘There’s something quite magical about the snow. Don’t you think?’ I’m thinking of Christmas Eve, on this very green, when we first revealed our feelings for each other. It was the most romantic night of my life.
‘Magical?’ Rob glances back at me as if I’m nuts. ‘To be honest, I’d rather it performed a bloody vanishing act and disappeared altogether, then this drive wouldn’t be necessary.’
‘Oh.’ Crushed, I feel my hackles rising once more. ‘Well, you know, I didn’t ask you to drive me to Guildford. We don’t need to go if you don’t want to.’
He strides on, completely ignoring me.
Trying to keep up, my feet in the clumsy wellies trip over each other and I land on my knees, the snow soaking instantly through my jeans. I scramble up, feeling doubly annoyed because Rob hasn’t even noticed.
‘Are you trying to break some sort of snow-tramping record?’ I call in frustration, and he turns and glares at me.
‘Do you want this lift or not?’
‘Of course.’
‘Well, try and keep up. We haven’t got all night.’
‘I think you’ll find we have, actually. The competition doesn’t kick off until tomorrow at eleven.’
‘At the rate this snow is coming down, we might not even get there by eleven,’ he says brusquely.
‘Do you think?’ I ask in alarm.
He shakes his head and says grimly, ‘We’ll make it. Even if we have to hire cross country skis and do it the Norwegian way.’
‘Ooh. That sounds like fun.’
All I get in reply is a grunt. It appears Rob has finally lost his patience with my frosty, unbending attitude.
I purse my lips and stomp on, more carefully this time.
Rob’s grumpy attitude is neither here nor there, because I have absolutely no intention of making small talk on our drive into Guildford. I will endure this car journey because I really want to make it to the contest. I want to do it for Dad. And for Ellie, who showed such faith in me by entering on my behalf.
Just as importantly, I need to do it for myself. It would be amazing, after years of preferring to blend into the wallpaper, to be brave enough to come out and declare: This is me, Fenella Redpath, and I have a talent for baking!
Throwing myself into perfecting my cakes has been a lifesaver over the past week, helping to keep me sane. A cold hand grips my heart. I’ve a feeling I’m going to need cake therapy even more in the months ahead . . .
I take a deep breath and tell myself I’ll be fine.
If Rob imagines the intimacy of a car journey for two will make me relent and start thinking about forgiving him, he can think again! I will be belted up and unreachable. In fact, the more physical distance there is between us the better, as far as I’m concerned.
Getting cosy again in the car?
Hell itself will freeze over before that happens!