CHAPTER FIFTEEN
We somehow manage to survive the night, wound together in a tangle of limbs on the back seat.
The decision to move was arrived at in the early hours after Rob got a sudden attack of cramp in his thigh. He lay flat on the back seat with his feet in one of the wells to accommodate his long legs, and I basically lay on top of him, although that was where the sexy suggestiveness ended.
Most methods of contraception are found to be slightly less than wholly effective. But two thick winter coats, I can confirm, are one hundred per cent foolproof.
I’m not aware of drifting off. I seem to have been lying here for hours in the same position, listening to Rob’s breathing and watching the snow drift past the window. But at the noise of a large vehicle moving ponderously past the car, I jerk awake. Struggling into a half-sitting position, I catch the retreating snow plough and the gleam of daylight on the horizon. Glancing at my phone, which is almost out of battery, I see it’s actually just after eight. I need to be at the bake-off venue by eleven.
My heart sinks. I’m still in yesterday’s clothes, with no access to a shower, and I’m so exhausted I can barely remember my own name, never mind recall ingredients for a double chocolate mousse cake.
Sighing, I slump back in the seat. It’s not going to happen. After all the excitement of finding I’m through to the local heats, then baking like a demon to be the best I can be, I’m not even going to be able to get there.
I was aware of only a few vehicles moving slowly past us during that long, exhausting night. The likelihood of anyone stopping to dig us out of the snow in time for us to make it to Guildford must be bordering on zero.
My throat tightens with emotion.
After the horrible week that’s just gone – splitting up with Rob and then finding Ellie is probably going to lose the café – this really is the last straw . . .
Rob groans and hauls himself up, peering out at the snow in the half-light. ‘Did we really just sleep in the car all night?’ His voice is full of gravel, having just woken up. Disturbingly sexy.
No, stop it!
‘Well, you slept. You were snoring.’ I try to shuffle away from him but the cramped space makes it impossible. I give up with a sigh and fall back against him.
He shakes his head and says solemnly, ‘No chance. I don’t snore.’
‘Ha! Who told you that?’
He grins. ‘No one. I just know.’ He runs his hands through his hair then stretches as hugely as the confined space will allow him to do without grievously injuring me. ‘Actually, I wasn’t asleep the whole time. I was formulating a plan.’
My stomach gives a huge growl. ‘Does the plan involve getting rescued and hot coffee with preferably a bacon sandwich or two?’
He studies me, a pensive gleam in his green eyes. ‘Maybe.’
‘Is there really a plan?’
‘Yes. I was lying awake while you were snoring your head off and the idea came to me.’
‘Er, I don’t snore.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘So what’s this great idea?’
He shifts his position with a groan. ‘My muscles are staging a protest. I feel like I’ve run a marathon during the night. But anyway, the village where I grew up is just about five miles from here.’
‘Wickleshaw?’ I recall him telling me about his childhood on a farm. ‘And your brother still lives there?’
He nods. ‘George took over the farm when Dad retired. If he’s around today, I know he’d come and help dig us out.’
‘We’re going to tramp five miles in the snow?’ I stare at him in dismay.
He grins. ‘No, I’ll walk over in that direction until I get a signal.’ He points across the fields towards a little wooded area on top of a gentle incline. ‘Then I’ll phone George and tell him where we are.’
‘Are you sure you want to walk over there? It must be at least a foot deep.’
He shrugs. ‘So I’ll relive my childhood. We used to have sledge races down that hill.’
‘Why don’t you just phone the break-down services?’
He shakes his head. ‘It could be hours before they get to us – and then you’ll have missed the competition. If we’re going to get you there, we need to be on the move as soon as possible. Which is where George comes in.’
I smile up at him, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by how determined he is that I won’t miss that competition. We might not be together but he still has my back one hundred percent. Rogue tears spring up but I blink them away quickly.
If it wasn’t for Alicia . . .
‘Right, I won’t be long,’ he says, turning up his collar.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ I’m suddenly panicking at the thought of him going off alone.
‘No point. I’ll be back before you know it.’
He gets out of the car and strides off with a quick wave and a smile. He’s about to hop over the fence into the field beyond when he turns back. I wind down the window and another blast of freezing air fills the car.
‘Lock the doors and stay safe,’ he murmurs, looking into my eyes with such deep intensity, my heart misses a beat.
Then he raps the side of the car and leaves, loping athletically over the fence and setting off over the field towards the trees. He makes good progress, even though he’s walking up a gentle hill, and I watch him until he reaches the little copse and disappears over the brow of the incline. I cross my fingers he’ll get a signal from over there. Then I start wondering about where I’ll get changed into the clothes I brought. Perhaps I should do it now, while Rob’s not here, although frankly, the thought of even taking my coat off in these freezing temperatures makes me shudder, never mind the idea of having to reveal bare flesh. Deciding to wait until we’re in Guildford, I settle back to wait for Rob.
Half an hour later, I’m starting to get worried.
He should be back by now. What if he’s fallen in the snow and injured himself but can’t get help because there’s no phone signal? If he’s broken a leg or something, he could be out there for ages, getting hypothermia . . .
I’m just retying my scarf in readiness for braving the freezing temperatures – and going in search of Rob - when a noise like a distant swarm of giant wasps fills the air. I sit up straight in shock. The noise is getting closer every second.
And then to my amazement, over the brow of the hill roars what looks like a snowmobile. Whoever is driving it seems to be having a lot of fun, traversing the slope from side to side rather than taking the direct route. Eventually, though - as I watch mesmerised - the vehicle starts heading directly towards me, and as it approaches the fence, I can finally see the face of the driver.
Rob.
My heart starts beating very fast.
He’s not expecting me to get on that, is he?
He parks the thing and jumps off, and I get out of the car and meet him at the fence. ‘Where did you get that?’
He grins, removing the visor. ‘My old school mate, Callum, runs some stables just over that hill and as luck would have it, he was out on this thing, just messing about. I explained our predicament and he said that in the interests of supporting a baking star of the future, he’s happy to lend it to us to get to my brother’s.’
I stare at him nervously, trying to imagine myself flying across the snow on the back of this scary-looking vehicle. ‘But couldn’t you just phone George from this guy’s stables and get him to come and rescue us?’
‘I tried. He’s not picking up. Probably trying to dig his own car out as we speak.’
‘Oh.’ I swallow hard. So it looks as if . . .
‘Are you up for it? I promise I’ll go slowly.’ Rob grins, obviously seeing apprehension written all over my face. ‘There’s a hiking trail that runs past the stables, all the way into Wickleshaw. If we follow that, we’ll be there in no time on this thing.’
An image of Dad’s face sweeps into my mind. He’s routing for me. I’ve got to get to the competition, if only to prove to Dad that his faith in me was justified.
I take a deep breath. If getting to this bake-off means riding on the back of a snowmobile, I guess that’s just what I’ll have to do.