CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It’s a long trudge through the village to Rob’s flat.
Snow drives relentlessly into our faces, hurled by the biting north-easterly wind that’s blown up from nowhere. My eyes are stinging and I feel as if I’m walking through an endless, freaky nightmare version of a snow globe.
My heart pings sadly at the thought of my beautiful Superwoman snow globe, lying in a drawer in my bedroom where I shoved it in angry desperation the other night. But I push it from my mind and soldier on, using Rob – a few steps ahead of me - as a human windbreak.
At least he’s useful for something!
The bitterness I feel towards Rob is quite startling. But even worse is the horrible feeling of panicky emptiness when I think of the future without him in my life.
Rob stops suddenly and I bump into him with rather more force than was strictly necessary.
We’ve reached the car at last.
I must look like a snowman, but any attempt to shake off my coat in this blizzard would be futile so I just slide gratefully into the passenger seat. Rob starts the engine and mercifully, after a minute or two, heat creeps into the frozen space and my breathing gets back to normal.
I glance at Rob. He’s clearing the icy load off the windscreen and adjusting the heating. Then without a word, we’re crunching away over the snow, cautiously at first as Rob gets a feel for how the tyres are gripping.
It suddenly strikes me that maybe we’re mad for doing this. Perhaps I should just call them tomorrow and say I couldn’t make it because of the snow. It would be a perfectly reasonable excuse.
But I’ve come this far. I really don’t want to cancel.
‘You could drop me at the nearest railway station and I’ll just get the train into Guildford,’ I remind him, feeling a sudden pang of guilt. If it wasn’t for me, Rob would be snug at home, a nice warm bed his one and only destination tonight. But instead, he’s driving me miles in Arctic conditions. The snow isn’t treacherously deep just yet, but what if it continues overnight and we get stuck in Guildford?
He doesn’t reply. His jaw remains set, his eyes on the road ahead.
I try again. ‘There’s really no need for you to drive me all the way to Guildford.’
‘Actually, there is,’ he says gruffly. ‘I want to make sure you get there safely.’
My heart does a silly little skippy thing at his concern. ‘Thank you,’ I mutter, feeling humbly grateful. ‘That’s really nice of you.’
‘It’s not nice,’ he snaps. ‘It’s selfish. I’d hate to have your death on my conscience.’
‘Oh. Right.’ I swallow and sneak a look at his profile. He’s not smiling. Not even in a ghoulish way. ‘Well, anyway, I – er - appreciate it.’
‘Good.’
We drive along in awkward silence for a while doing a steady thirty miles an hour. There are few cars on the road, which isn’t surprising considering it’s almost midnight and the snow is still sheeting down, blanketing everything and piling up on the verges.
‘Wait, what’s that?’ I squeak suddenly, pointing at the road ahead. There’s what looks like a small gathering of people standing in the centre of the road, totally covered in snow. They look very spooky, as if they’re frozen in time, like in some Stephen King horror film.
‘What’s what?’ Rob demands, slowing down and peering through the snowstorm at where I’m frantically indicating.
‘Over there. Oh God, we’re going to hit them.’ Panicking, I grab the steering wheel in an attempt to alter our course slightly.
‘Fen, it’s a roundabout with bushes on it,’ he yells as my intervention makes the car start veering into the verge. He reacts by yanking the steering wheel too hard in the opposite direction and the car goes into a skid, spinning out of control.
I grip onto my seat, my heart in my mouth, as Rob tries valiantly to stop the skid.
Completely forgetting the rule of steering into the skid, I panic and – seeing that we’re heading onto the opposite carriageway and there are headlights moving slowly towards us through the gloom – I make another grab for the steering wheel to pull the car over to our side of the road.
That’s when the fright factor screeches up a million percent.
My action causes the car to spin - in freaky slow motion - a whole three-hundred-and-sixty degrees. Then it skews dramatically to the left, mounts the kerb - tossing us one way then the other - and misses a lamppost by mere inches before coming to a lurching stop.
The engine cuts out and we sit in shocked, paralysed silence for a few seconds.
Then Rob draws in a huge breath and tries to restart the car.
Nothing.
He tries again. And again.
Still nothing.
‘Shit,’ he says, and slumps back in his seat.
‘Bugger,’ I agree, my heart still pounding ferociously after our impromptu white-knuckle ride.
We stare out at the unrelenting snowflakes as the heat slowly escapes from the car.
‘Right.’ Rob picks up his phone. ‘Let’s see how long the break-down services take on a night like this.’ He groans. ‘Bloody hell, no signal.’
‘Hang on, I’ll check mine.’ I scrabble in my bag and pull out my phone, but it’s the same story. No signal. ‘Brilliant. What do we do now?’
‘I’ll have a look under the bonnet,’ says Rob.
‘Oh great, you know about engines?’ My optimism rises. We will get to Guildford tonight.
‘No.’ He gets out of the car, letting in a blast of freezing night air, and slams the door.
I sink back in my seat, rubbing my arms to keep warm, wondering what on earth we’re going to do. It appears that Rob is simply doing his man thing. Because men will do anything – even study an engine they know nothing about – to avoid having to call on a professional for help.
After five minutes, he gets back in the car.
‘What’s the verdict?’ I ask.
He shrugs and turns the key. And miraculously, the engine actually starts!
I’m so excited at the prospect of getting away from here, I want to throw myself at him and kiss him. ‘That’s fantastic, Rob. I can’t believe you fixed it. What did you do?’
‘I tightened the battery connections. I think one must have loosened when we skidded.’ He’s trying to act cool but I can tell he’s chuffed with himself.
‘Hey, well done. That’s amazing. Guildford, here we come!’
‘Yup. Let’s get going.’
He smiles across at me and my heart skips a beat. I’m nearer to forgiving him than I’ve been in a week – but only because he’s just rescued me from having to spend the whole night in the freezing car!
‘So are we going, then?’ I ask a few seconds later.
‘I’m trying.’
‘What do you mean? I thought you were waiting for a car to come past before you moved off?’ I look back but there’s only blackness and not a headlight in sight.
In response, he hits the accelerator hard, causing a hideous whining sound like a large beast in agony.
My heart tumbles into my shoes. ‘We’re stuck in the snow?’
‘Looks like it.’
‘Shall I get out and push?’
‘Probably better if you get behind the wheel and I push.’
So he gets out and I shuffle over the gear stick until I’m in the driving seat and start furiously revving the engine. I feel like we’re in some sort of horror movie, stranded in a conked-out car, blissfully unaware that a psychopath with a troubled childhood is about to loom out of the snowstorm.
There’s a sharp knock on the window, which nearly frightens the life out of me.
It’s only Rob.
I wind down the window and he says dryly, ‘I appreciate your eagerness, but could you at least wait until I’m ready? I’ll knock on the boot when I want you to rev the engine.’
‘Oh, okay. Roger that.’
He keeps knocking on the boot and I keep revving the engine. Every time, the car moves forward, and hope rises. But each time, it gets so far and then rolls right back to square one.
Rob comes back to the window and I wind it down again.
‘I’d try and dig us out if I had a spade. I reckon we’re here until the snow ploughs come by.’
I stare at him in horror. ‘But when will that be?’
He laughs, sounding more than a little bitter. ‘Ooh now, let me see. I’ll just tune in my psychic radar.’ He cocks his head to one side, listening. Then he shakes his head. ‘No, sorry. Nothing.’
‘Oh, ha bloody ha!’ I blush bright red in the darkness of the car.
He grins and opens the door. ‘Shove along and let me in.’
I do as he says, trying to swallow down a feeling of panic. Surely on a night like this, police patrol cars will be out looking for people who’ve got caught out by the bad weather? People like us, taking a risk because we’ve got somewhere we need to be.
Well, somewhere I need to be.
The guilty feeling returns with a vengeance.
Rob didn’t need to do this for me – but he has, and now he’s facing a miserable night ahead, stuck in his car. With only me for company.
I suppose now would be a good time to at least get back to being friends? Because the thought of sitting here for hours in stubborn silence is not a pretty one. Nor is the thought of trying to survive the below freezing temperatures.
‘My brother lives near here,’ says Rob thoughtfully, staring out at the whirling snow.
‘Really? That’s great!’
He frowns. ‘When I say “near here”, it’s actually about five miles away.’
‘Oh. So walking there isn’t an option.’
He grins ruefully. ‘In this driving snow, we’d still be walking at lunchtime tomorrow.’
I sigh, racking my brains for a solution. ‘So I suppose a passing police car is our best hope.’
‘Looks like it. The only other way would be to try and get a signal elsewhere,’ he murmurs. ‘We must be in a dip here.’
I stare at him in horror. ‘You’re not going to leave me alone here?’
‘No, of course not. I was just thinking aloud.’
My heart rate calms down.
‘So. As we’re pretty much out of other options, I guess all we can do is try our best to keep warm.’ He looks at me with a speculative smile and my stomach flips. ‘I mean, obviously, it doesn’t mean we’re back together or anything like that.’
‘Obviously.’
‘But when you’re up against it, you have to do what it takes to survive.’
I nod, playing along, my goose-bumps getting goose-bumps as I wonder where this is leading. ‘You’re right. Sacrifices have to be made.’
There’s a brief silence as electricity fizzes in the space between us. My throat feels so dry, I doubt I’d be able to utter a word. So I’m relieved when Rob speaks first.
‘Does that mean if I was to put my arm around you, you wouldn’t object?’
I allow a small smile to escape and he returns it with an ironic twist of his lips.
‘Come here,’ he growls, and reaches for me, and I sink against him, feeling his strong arms tight around me and his warm breath against my neck as he kisses me there. Then he raises his eyes to mine and a delicious shiver runs through me that has little to do with the sub-zero temperatures. Our lips draw closer and I know that if he were to kiss me now, I’d have no power to resist.
Perhaps it’s time to put Alicia where she belongs. In the past . . .
‘You’re freezing,’ he murmurs. ‘Here, have this.’ He roots around in the back sea, finds what he’s looking for and drapes it around me.
I snuggle into it. ‘This is lovely. What is it? A car rug?’
He hesitates. ‘Erm, yes. A car rug.’
It’s beautifully soft, possibly cashmere, and it smells wonderful, like a summer meadow. My fingers touch something that feels like a clothing label. ‘Hang on, this is some sort of wrap. Not a rug.’
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he sighs and draws me towards him again.
But I resist his embrace this time. Something’s niggling at me. It’s that perfume. I recognise it from somewhere . . .
‘Rob? Who does this wrap belong to?’ I hold my breath, waiting for him to reply.
He sighs. Then he says heavily, ‘It’s Alicia’s, okay?’