“You don’t have to tell us where to put the lights,” Jake said, standing on top of a very high set of ladders. “We’ve only been doing this for fifteen fucking years!”

“Shut up or I’ll make sure this is the last Christmas anything goes up. Including your dick.” Zack really, really wanted to push the ladders over. But his parents and aunt and uncle had experienced enough trips to casualty around Christmas and he couldn’t do it to them. Although he could quite happily do it to Jake.

Scott leaned against the van. “Explain why we’re putting outside lights up four days before Christmas when your girl already has lights up. I haven’t quite understood this level of idiocy. Especially when it’s cold enough to freeze Satan’s sauna and my testicles have retracted into my bladder.”

There was one last bang as Jake hammered another support in place for the new lights.

“These are the lights she wanted but they weren’t in stock. I saw them in the store yesterday and picked them up. I thought it would make a nice surprise.” He knew exactly what the response was going to be from Scott and Jake and they were probably right. He was gone for her, completely and utterly wrapped around whatever finger she’d spare him.

“Pussy-whipped,” Scott said. “Next thing we know, you’ll be moving back up here and buying diamonds.”

If he thought there was any chance of her agreeing to that, it would be completely correct. However, he wasn’t sure that they were totally on the same page. “It’s early days.”

“It may be early days, but you’re risking the life of your cousin and brother to put up Christmas lights in fucking treacherous conditions. Jesus.” Jake stepped off the bottom of the ladder and headed over to him, pulling him into something that was half-hug, half-hold so he could also punch him in the stomach.

“You’re still alive and still very annoying. What time are we heading up Scarhead Pike?” he said, wondering if he had time to take Sorrell to dinner. Or bring dinner to Sorrell. Or have Sorrell for dinner. The permutations were plentiful.

“After this,” Scott said. “We’ll hang around for you to show your girlfriend what a good little lapdog you’ve been and then it’s get the kit time and get our arses up to the top. Jonny has the bonfire ready for an eight-thirty lighting which means the leader has to start the descent at seven-fifty.”

“How many have signed up?” Zack asked. Of all the Christmas traditions in Severton, this was his favourite. As a boy, he’d watched his dad and uncle participate in the River of Fire every Saturday before Christmas Day, each year desperate to go with him. The year Scott had been old enough had been the hardest. He’d stayed by his mum’s side, watching the climbers, the walkers and the fell runners walk down Scarhead Pike in single file, each carrying a lit torch of fire, creating, from a distance, the illusion of a river of fire running down the mountain. It had always been a powerful picture; as a kid it was one of his most powerful and clear memories. It had been a night full of excitement that Santa was coming and he’d see the river of fire and know where to find him. As a teen, he’d learned the story behind it and saw it firsthand.

The peaks could be treacherous. Every year they would take a life or more. Sometimes a walker who had a heart attack, sometimes a climber whose time was up and the mountain won. On one occasion, it had been his classmate who had gone walking in the snow by himself. He’d tripped and caught his head on a rock, knocking himself unconscious. The cold had smothered him and he hadn’t returned, his body found and recovered when the snow thawed.

The river of fire remembered those that had passed, on the mountains and in the villages. It was a memorial and a celebration. And it raised money for the search and rescue team, who also organised it.

There had been talk this year that it wouldn’t go ahead, due to the conditions, but instead the team had mapped an easier route and recruited more volunteers. They had upped the age limit and the people taking part had to have evidence of experience. Zack would know all of the participants from Severton, Underwood and the other nearby towns and villages, but people came from further afield to pay tribute to those who had passed.

“Eighty-three are taking part,” Scott said. He was one of the key organisers. In fact, he was becoming one of the main people in the search and rescue team. “Was going to ask if you’d be at the start, lead the way down. Jake’s going to bring up the rear. I’ll take the last torch.”

That meant Scott would be walking down solo, the last light being brought home. As the walkers descended they took their torch to a bonfire on the field nearest the town square, lit a piece of yule log from one of last year’s Christmas trees and threw it on to the fire. Jonny’s team supervised because there was a lot that could go wrong, but nothing usually did.

Afterwards, the choir would sing and there would be more mulled wine and a hotpot supper. The markets in the high street would stay open for any late night shoppers and then the bars would pack out. It was usually a good atmosphere.

“I’m good to lead,” Zack said. “I would’ve thought dad would’ve done it.”

Scott shrugged. “He’s walking with some of the ex-SARs. Besides, we had a family conflab about it and thought you’d like to get down quick so you can watch the end of it with your woman. Speaking of which.” Scott gestured to the car coming up the drive, now equipped with snow tyres.

“You think she’s going to like this?”

“I hope so,” Zack said, Jake bounding over to them like Tigger from Winnie the Pooh. “Or she might think it’s too much and not want to hear from me again.”

Scott laughed, Jake’s arms coming round both of their shoulders with far too much force.

Sorrell parked her car and got out, looking at them and then the house, the new lights on and twinkling their bright white glow.

“What…” she said and headed over to them. “You’ve just put these up?”

The three of them nodded like the wise monkeys that they were.

“We have a severe weather warning for ice and snow and you think it’s a good idea to risk breaking your necks to put some lights up?” Her brow was creased and her hands were firmly on her hips.

“It was his idea,” Jake said, stepping away and pointing a finger at Zack. Scott copied him. Both of them looked slightly scared of her, which was probably wise.

“No,” Sorrell said, her hands on her hips. “He is not your controller. Both of you have brains, although I hear yours are usually in your trousers.” She glared at Jake, and Zack wondered who his cousin had been doing.

“They agreed when I asked them, Ells,” Zack said. “They did mention that it might be a bit foolish…”

“A bit foolish? Are you serious? It was suicidal!” She was really riled now, the usually quiet composed creature not there at present. Instead they had a scary woman who was after their asses.

“To be fair, we’re all climbers and we did know what we were doing. If—if—we had known you didn’t like the lights we wouldn’t have done it,” Zack said, hoping to distract her with how damn good they looked, which they did.

Sorrell shook her head and looked up at the lights, so much better than the ones she’d made do with, and gave one more shake of her head.

“Okay, they look amazing.” She walked over to Zack and put her arms around him. He’d noticed that she wasn’t one for showing affection in front of others, although she’d been more than happy to when they were on their own, so this was an acknowledgement that they weren’t just dating casually. It was more.

“Thank you. You remembered and it’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done and completely unnecessary to risk death to do,” she said. “But thank you.” Then she kissed him, not just a sweet kiss like she’d normally do if there were people about, but one that made his toes curl and his dick wake up.

“What about us? We helped. Don’t we get a thank you like that?”

It was Jake, of course.

She cast daggers at him with her eyes. “I know where those lips have been Jake Maynard and all I can say is that I hope you’ve used sanitizer on them!”

Zack looked from Sorrell to Scott who seemed equally clueless.

Jake shrugged, saying nothing in his defence because he probably didn’t have one.

“Let’s go inside. I’ll make you a coffee,” she said. “And find some disinfectant for Jake.”