Winter's Fairytale

‘Not really. I mean, we can try–’

‘We?’

‘Yes, we.’

‘You don’t need to do all this for me, you know,’ I said, ‘besides, I’m not sure I really deserve it with the way I’ve treated you,’ I paused. ‘And for the record, I’d hate it if I never saw you again.’

Rob looked up from the traffic website. ‘Why don’t we just forget all about that now? Start anew?’

I returned the gentle smile he was giving me. ‘Actually that sounds pretty good.’

‘Agreed. Now. Let’s have another look at this weather.’

Chapter Four (#ulink_e52a3cc0-5bbd-55a8-90d7-06a657007a94)

Rob grabbed the remote control, pressed a button and his TV came on with a little welcome message. He punched in some numbers with his thumb and BBC News 24 came up.

‘…with all main routes out of London currently extremely slow or blocked entirely.’

I looked at Rob and pulled a face. ‘That doesn’t sound too promising, does it?’

‘Don’t give up yet,’ Rob smiled, ‘let’s consult The Oracle.’

‘The Oracle?’

He grinned. ‘Twitter.’

He switched back to the main screen on his laptop and pressed the tile for the Twitter app. His timeline immediately filled the screen and I leant over a little to see what was trending. Sure enough #snow was right near the top. Rob tapped on it to see what opinions were being given out on the subject. Typically, there were various versions of ‘America gets tonnes more of the stuff and things don’t grind to a halt.’ Rob and I glanced at each other and rolled our eyes. ‘That old chestnut’ the exchange said silently. The fact that America got tonnes of the stuff was exactly the reason why things didn’t grind to a halt. I imagined that the same people who were moaning about the situation now would probably be the same ones moaning if a fleet of highly expensive snow ploughs were sat in a shed unused for ninety-nine per cent of the time because ‘it’s not like we get tonnes of the stuff very often.’ Rob skimmed over those tweets and looked for something more constructive.

He found a tag labelled #Londonsnow and touched it. Another stream opened up. Silently we scanned over the tweets. I glanced at Rob and could see that even his optimism was failing. From the television we heard the announcement that they were ‘…now going live to our reporter, Beth Sanders.’ Beth thanked the anchor and began her report, advising that she was standing on one of the main arteries in and out of London to the south, which was now entirely blocked due to the snow. Behind her we could see lines of cars, some off at an angle, clearly abandoned. The reporter began an interview with one driver who had chosen to stick with his car. Looking completely fed up and frozen to the bone, the man relayed how, even though he’d left work early, he’d still now been stuck in his current position for over five hours.

I groaned audibly. ‘Oh, that poor man.’ I looked over at Rob and could see him weighing something up in his mind. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘Ok, look,’ he turned to me, reducing the volume on the TV a little, ‘obviously those roads are pretty blocked up, but I know you want to get home. The Range Rover will go pretty much anywhere and I know a couple of short cuts–’

‘No! Absolutely not!’ I cut in.

Rob looked slightly taken aback at my vehemence.

‘I’m not getting home tonight and that’s that. There’s no way I’m going to ask you to put yourself at risk to get me there.’

‘You didn’t ask me and I wouldn’t put either of us at risk. You know me better than that.’

‘No. Final answer. I’ll just ring round and find a hotel–’

‘No! Absolutely not!’ Rob returned my own words to me.

‘Pardon?’

‘There’s no need for you to stay at a hotel. There’s a perfectly good guest bedroom here.’

‘Oh! No! I couldn’t… I…’

Rob tilted his head at me, waiting for me to finish.

I sat up a little straighter and tried again. ‘I couldn’t possibly do that, Rob. I mean, it’s very kind of you, but you’ve already done so much this evening, trying to get me home.’

‘Izzy, I’ve looked up a couple of websites and put the news on. That’s all.’

‘No, that’s not all. If it wasn’t for you, I’d likely still be standing at the station freezing my backside off!’

‘Well, then I’m glad I came along because that really would be a crime.’ He gave me a cheeky wink, closed the laptop and put it aside. Then he rose and jogged up the three steps to the kitchen, heading for the fridge. ‘Beer or wine?’

‘Hang on, I don’t think we finished discussing this.’ I said, following him into the kitchen.

‘Yes we did,’ he said, his head now practically entirely inside the fridge as he rooted around at the back. He popped back out and shut the door, two ready meals in his hands, ‘Which one of these do you want? Sorry it’s nothing grander, but I wasn’t expecting company tonight and I’m loathe to try and ask anyone to deliver tonight in this weather, even if they were prepared to.’

I put aside the fact that Rob was bossing me about for a moment to reflect on the fact that he was showing such consideration to takeaway delivery people, and thought again how sweet he could be. But then I was straight back to the matter in hand.

I glanced down at the meals in his hands. They both looked delicious. But I wasn’t used to being told when and where I was staying. Even though I knew it was all meant in the best and kindest way.

‘Rob. I really do appreciate the offer but I think it’s best if I just find a hotel. I’ve imposed on you enough. Besides, I’ve already eaten. Mags and I had dinner.’

‘No imposition.’ he stated, jiggling the boxes of food in his hands in question again, ‘And you can just have a bit of one to keep me company. Any preference?’

I let out a huff. He was obviously sweet but, by God, he was also clearly stubborn as hell when he wanted to be.

‘Thank you, but I’m not hungry.’ I said. At which point my mutinous stomach let out the most enormous growl.

‘No. I can tell.’ Rob was wearing his poker face, but it didn’t last long. I saw the corners of his eyes crinkle as my stomach rumbled again. He put the food on the counter and placed his hands on my upper arms.

‘Izzy. Come on. Clearly you’re hungry. I know I am.’

My traitorous body wasn’t letting me out of this one so I conceded. ‘Ok, yes I’m hungry. Mags is on a pre-Christmas diet so we both just had antipasti. Which is fine, by the way! But I missed lunch. So, yes, I am a bit hungry.’

‘And it would seem you get grouchy when you’re hungry.’ Rob smiled, somehow softening the blow of the extremely accurate observation.

‘Wow.’ I said, flatly, ‘You’ve really got this gracious host thing sussed.’

Rob laughed, letting go of me and poking holes with a knife in the plastic wrap coverings of the ready meals. He opened the microwave and shoved them both in, adjusting the timings so that they’d both be ready together. Pulling open the cutlery drawer, he handed me knives and forks, before going back to his original question.

‘So, beer or wine?’

A few minutes later, we were sat next to one another on the sofa, ready meals tipped out onto plates, with red wine filling our glasses. The TV was still on the news channel, and showing reports of increasingly miserable looking drivers stuck on various routes, in and around the south east. Reporter Beth was looking colder and colder by the minute. I knew that, but for the grace of Rob, there go I. Except I would have been in a far worse position because, unlike Beth, who was decked out from head to foot in North Face winter ready clothing and boots, I had set out this morning in a knee-length wool coat and four-inch heels. Both of these I knew looked fabulous but were definitely not up to the job of keeping me warm whilst I stood waiting for a train that was never going to come. But staying at Rob’s tonight? Why was I having such a hard time with that? We were friends – again – that obstacle, at least, thankfully seemed to have been surmounted. And I stayed over with Mags plenty of times when we’d been out on the town or had a movie night in with popcorn and jammies. Mags was a friend. Rob was a friend. So staying over here was just like staying over at Mags’. Wasn’t it?

‘Those cogs are whirring again.’ Rob broke into my thoughts.

I took a sip of my wine, and hoped I didn’t have Ribena smiles. Best to be honest. ‘I just feel a little awkward about staying here tonight.’