The Captain's Snowbound Christmas

by Eleanor Harkstead

  It was so lonely out here in the snow-shrouded sky, the bright moon blotted out by the clouds above. It wouldn’t be chilly like this in Bunny’s arms, Reuben knew, and he wondered what the actor was doing now. Sipping champagne somewhere, probably, surrounded by people who would never tell him to draw his sword at the very moment he was about to drop his boxers.

  What a stupid bloody thing to say!

  Maybe this was his divine punishment. A few cold hours sat on a lonely lane in the middle of nowhere.

  But it was a narrow lane too and Reuben had a sudden moment of panic. What if the breakdown service couldn’t get to him? He couldn’t stay out here for longer than a few hours in this weather—he’d freeze before they got to him.

  This could be pretty dangerous if it went on.

  It was then that something out there in the darkness decided to pay him a visit, with three sharp knocks on the window.

  Shaking, Reuben pressed the button and his window slid down. He blinked as snow whirled in through the gap. He started to think of ‘The Little Match Girl’, a story that had made him cry buckets when his grandmother had ill-advisedly read it to him when he was little, but he dismissed that at once. Because standing there beside his car was a smiling, white-bearded man with a broad, jolly smile.

  “Are you with the AA?” Reuben asked.

  “Not when I last asked the wife.” The man chuckled. “What’re you doing sitting out here like a spare cabbage at a Christmas dinner? Stuck, are you?”

  “Yeah! I’ve broken down,” Reuben replied, feeling as if he were stating the obvious. It was hardly a night for sightseeing. “The car just…just stopped. I’m trying to get Cornwall, and…well, this isn’t Cornwall, is it?”

  The man shook his head, then brushed away the dusting of snow that was already covering the shoulders of his red coat. “I’ve got my tractor sitting in the field here. There’s a house just up the way where you could bed down if you like. It’s not safe to be driving any distance further unless you’ve got reindeer to pull you out of trouble.” For some reason that seemed to amuse him, and he gave a hearty laugh. “And I see no reindeer here, young man!”

  A house?

  Would they mind Reuben turning up on their doorstep out of nowhere? But perhaps the people of rural Dorset were hospitable sorts.

  “If you could give me a tow—I’d appreciate it so much.” Reuben held his mittened hand out through the gap to shake. “My name’s Reuben.”

  The man took his hand and Reuben was pleased to see that he wasn’t the only one wearing mittens.

  “Nicholas,” he said, shaking Reuben’s hand vigorously. “I’ll give you a tow, young sir. You sit tight while I fetch my trusty old tractor, never fear.”

  “Great!” Reuben wound the window back up again. He felt warmer than he had a few minutes before as the prospect of a slow death by frostbite had confronted him. Of course, before that could happen, he’d have tucked into the champagne truffles he’d bought his mum for Christmas.

  A couple of minutes later Reuben saw the lights of the tractor emerge from a gap in the hedge, and the enormous vehicle lumbered out into the snow-covered road. The brake lights came on and the bearded man climbed down from the cab. A tow cable was wrapped round his shoulder and Reuben got the distinct impression that his new friend had done this before.

  “You stay put, young sir,” he called. “I’ll get you safely attached and we’ll be on our way.”

  Reuben gave him a double thumbs-up through his windscreen. Then he sent his parents a text telling them he was stuck in the snow but that they weren’t to worry. He watched the bearded man attach the cable first to the tractor then to the tow hook on his car. The snow was deeper than ever now, covering the red coat and the hedges and the road alike. There was no way the breakdown service would’ve reached him.

  “You better let your AA know that you’re being towed on,” said the man as he approached the window. “Don’t want their fellows risking themselves out here tonight. You give them a phone and we’ll be on our way!”

  He patted his hand on the roof then ambled back to the tractor and climbed up into the cab. Reuben cancelled his call-out and his car began to move as Nicholas’ tractor pulled him along the steep road. He wasn’t going to freeze to death. Not tonight, anyway.

  He couldn’t see anything besides the tractor lights and the snow-shrouded hedges, but just to know that he wasn’t alone in the blizzard made Reuben feel a whole lot better. The journey was painfully slow, yet that was still faster than being broken down.

  After ten minutes or so, the tractor turned off the road and along what felt like a gravel driveway beneath the blanket of snow. This must be their destination.

  Hopefully whoever lived there wouldn’t mind an extra person in their house. Reuben was willing to crash anywhere—spare bed, sofa, dog basket if it came to it—as long as it was out of the snow and warmer than his car.

  The brake lights glowed on the tractor and Nicholas climbed down. Reuben watched him unhitch the tow rope, then he draped it over his shoulder and approached the car.

  Reuben opened the window. “So—we’re here, then?”

  “This is it,” said Nicholas. “I’m away home to the wife—I’ve got work tomorrow! You have a lovely Christmas, young sir, and don’t you try to battle this blizzard all the way to Cornwall. Cheerio, son!”

  “I don’t plan to. Thanks so much!” Reuben patted his coat pocket, looking for his wallet. “What do I owe you?”

  “It’s Christmas,” chuckled Nicholas. “You give my regards to your host.”

  With that he ambled back to the tractor, climbed into the cab and drove away into the blizzard.

  Reuben turned on his headlamps and saw a cottage in front of him. It looked like something from a storybook and he was slightly worried he might’ve been led to the door of a witch who’d fatten him up and cook him. It was so pretty with its snowy thatch and diamond-paned windows, but it also looked a lot as if there was no one at home.

  Reuben got out of his car and went to investigate. He trudged over the snow-covered gravel and struggled to open the garden gate where a drift of snow had piled up against it. Then he had to take care not to slip on the garden path. He rapped on the door with its brass knocker but couldn’t hear any sounds from within, only the echo of his knocks.

  “Hello?” Reuben called. “Anyone home?”

  There was no reply, but from behind the closed curtains Reuben was sure he could see a light somewhere inside. What if there was no one here, though? What if he was just as stranded as before, but in a pretty garden instead of on a secluded road?

  Reuben saw a side gate at the edge of the house, so took the path and found the gate was open to the back garden. A vast lawn rolled away, huge and white and— An exterior light was on, and there in the middle of the lawn, Reuben saw a figure swaddled against the cold. And in front of him, a snowman.

  “Hello!” Reuben called as he crunched over the snow, waving his arms as if he were communicating in semaphore. “Sorry to bother you! I’ve broken down!”

  The figure turned and lifted one hand to shield their eyes against the snow. Then they called, “Broken down? Are you okay?”

  Bunny?

  Reuben was so surprised that he stopped where he was and all his breath left him, turning into an icy cloud of steam right in front of him.

  “Bunny? How—why are you here?”

  “Reuben?” Bunny—and it was Bunny—began to pick his way over the snowy lawn towards him. “This is my secret hideaway! What’re you doing in Dorset?”

  “I thought taking a detour in the snow was a good idea. And…and it wasn’t.” Or maybe it was. Reuben jabbed his thumb back towards the house and said, “My car broke down on this mad steep hill and I was stuck there, then…well, this really nice bloke called Nicholas turned up and towed me here. You were the nearest house. It must be nice having neighbours like that.”

  “Nicholas?” Bunny reached Reuben and stood before
him. He looked cosy in his coat and scarf, his dark-blond hair covered in snow. But his smile was warm. “I’ve had this place ten years and I’ve never met a Nicholas. But he brought you here? That’s a hell of a Christmas coincidence!”

  “Isn’t it?” Reuben chuckled. “He even looked like Father Christmas!”

  And how on earth had Bunny got here ahead of him anyway?

  “Well, his name was Nicholas.” Bunny smiled, his gaze studying Reuben’s face. “I went back to the makeup room but I’d missed you. There was no one there besides a couple of cleaners getting the place ready for the Christmas break.”

  “Did you find my number?” Reuben asked, but the spectre of the cleaners made him doubtful. “I didn’t have any paper—just a tissue to write it on. I left it on the worktop.”

  “The worktop was being Mr. Sheened when I got there.” Bunny shook his head, but it really did seem like a miracle in that case. “I wish you’d called, Reuben. I just wanted to say sorry and see if we could— You must be freezing. Do you want to get inside?”

  “I’m not exactly toasty, but—” Reuben winced. “I couldn’t phone you. I didn’t have your number. You said earlier that I did, and I didn’t. Honestly, I’ve never had your number—bloody hell, if I had, I would’ve rung it, you can count on it!”

  “I came back to your flat the next day but there was nobody home,” Bunny explained. “I put a note with my number through your letterbox. Don’t tell me you never saw it?”

  Reuben blinked away the snowflakes that were still falling, trying to take in what Bunny had just told him. He’d come back, and Reuben had never known.

  “We get so much junk mail. Do you know how many takeaways there are in a three-mile radius of my flat? Not to mention reiki healers, estate agents and people trying to hire out carpet cleaners. It must’ve got muddled up…” Reuben sighed and laid his hand on Bunny’s arm. “I had no idea that you came back. None at all.”

  Bunny tipped his head back and gave a long-suffering sigh. Then he lowered his chin and met Reuben’s gaze again. What would he say? Would they have to spend an awkward evening together, each trying to pretend that Reuben hadn’t said that catchphrase? What if he was still sore about it now?

  “Once more unto the breach?” Reuben smiled. “I heard you through the speaker. You were really good.”

  “Cry God for Harry, England and Saint George!” Bunny proclaimed. Then he stooped and scooped up a mass of snow into his gloved palm, patting it into a snowball. “Twelve paces, Reuben Sheldrake, then by God…draw your sword, sir!”

  Reuben burst out laughing, hopping up and down as he pointed at Bunny. “You said it! You bloody said it!”

  Bunny began to pace backwards to begin their duel, his head held high, his expression aloof. If not for the snowball and the jaunty rainbow scarf, he could be Captain Firth right now.

  Reuben scooped up a snowball as well and paced backwards too. The snow had gone up inside his trouser legs and down into his boots, but he didn’t care—he was laughing too much.

  “Ready?” Reuben drew back his arm.

  “On the count of three, sir! One… Two…”

  Reuben threw. His snowball lost half its size on its trajectory but struck Bunny on the shoulder and burst into fragments. Reuben didn’t manage to hop out of the way of Bunny’s snowball and it struck his bobble hat, nearly sending it flying. And Reuben was still laughing as he staggered about in the snow.

  “Lethal, that was!” Reuben called.

  Bunny was laughing so hard that he couldn’t even cobble together another snowball. Instead he clapped his hands, then pointed at Reuben.

  “Captain Firth never loses a duel, sir! I can’t believe you’re here, you silly bugger!” He turned in a circle and called into the night, “Thank you, Nicholas or Santa or whoever, for bringing Reuben to see my snowman!”

  “It’s a very fine snowman!” Reuben said. “Thank you, Nicholas Christmas, for saving me from frostbite and plonking me down in Bunny’s driveway!” Reuben took a few steps through the snow until he reached Bunny. “Is it a bother if I stay the night? I know it might be a bit weird, but…”

  Bunny smiled and shook his head. “I’d love you to, Reuben. We’ve got a gorgeous log fire and piles of food and booze. I don’t do Christmas by halves.”

  Reuben took Bunny’s gloved hand and curled his own around it. His breath turned to steam again as he said, “Thanks. Thanks so much. Brrr…! It’s so cold out here!”

  “Do you want to go inside and get warmed up?” He embraced Reuben’s shoulders. It was a friendly gesture, Reuben decided, and he shouldn’t read anything into it whatsoever. “We can look at your car tomorrow. Although I know nothing about them. But I’m willing to look under the bonnet and maybe get a bit of oil on me so I look as though I know what I’m doing.”

  “I can do some pretty good fake oil if you’d prefer. It’ll come off more easily in the shower!” Reuben laughed, even as he shivered. “I’ve got snow in places I didn’t know you could get snow. Let’s get warmed up—I’m freezing!”

  “Have you got a bag in the car? Do you want to grab it?” Bunny walked Reuben towards the welcoming lights of the house.

  “I’ve got my suitcase and about three tons of presents,” Reuben replied. “I’ll grab the suitcase—I’ll need my toothbrush and pyjamas!”

  By the time he’d retrieved his case, the snow was thicker than ever. Bunny took it from him and together they dashed into the idyllic little cottage and shut out the night. It was warm, and it was cosy, and Reuben loved it at once. It didn’t seem as if an interior designer had been anywhere the place, unlike the swanky pads of wealthy actors, producers and directors that he’d occasionally been in before.

  The cottage seemed to have mushroomed where it stood—a 1930s sofa here, a Mackintosh chair there, a 1970s coffee table and a rustic rocking chair. Everywhere Reuben looked there were ornaments and souvenirs, some which were plainly props from shows and films that Bunny had been in, and posters on the walls of his different roles.

  And adding to the clutter were Christmas decorations, some of which looked old, if not antique. Tinsel had been draped over picture frames and paper chains dangled wherever there had been a gap. And the house smelled of Christmas too.

  “Wow, what a place!” Reuben gazed at the Christmas tree with its twinkling lights and perfect jumble of ornaments. It was like stepping into a Christmas card.

  “Do you want a drink?” Bunny took off his coat and waited to take Reuben’s. “Anything you like, we’ve got the lot.”

  “Hot chocolate? Brandy?” Reuben shoved his mittens into his pockets and unwound his scarf, then unbuttoned his coat. As he handed them to Bunny, he had an idea. “Brandy in hot chocolate?”

  Bunny beamed his approval. “That sounds perfect to me. Come through to the kitchen, keep me company?”

  Reuben followed him through, over the rugs that covered the large stone flags, into the kitchen. It had a huge Aga and higgledy-piggledy kitchen units with bright-coloured doors.

  “If you need me to lend a hand, just shout, okay?” Reuben leaned back against the worktop. He felt so at home here, though, safe and cosy in Bunny’s house.

  “Guess how I got to Dorset tonight,” Bunny said as he put two large mugs on the worktop. He stooped to remove his wet boots and socks.

  “Erm…Nicholas gave you a lift on his sleigh?”

  “Not quite that good. I got a lift in Spencer’s brother’s helicopter. Imagine having your own helicopter!” He turned and looked at Reuben, one eyebrow raised. “Thanks for your mini-rant in makeup, by the way. I’ve never had a knight in shining armour before.”

  “You flew?” Reuben laughed. “I did wonder how you got here before I did. But yeah, don’t worry about it, I know you’re sick of hearing that catchphrase all the time. To be honest, I am as well!”

  “It’s not— I’m grateful for what Captain Firth’s brought me, but I just wanted to spend a nice night out with you, and I’m sure y
ou don’t want to go out with a guy who’s always being told to draw his sword.” Bunny shrugged his shoulder. “It brings amazing opportunities, but it gets in the way too. It got in our way, didn’t it?”

  “It did. I’m so sorry. I kept hearing people saying it and it was going round and round my head all day, like this demon that was trying to get out. And I kept pursing my lips, and…and…” Reuben sighed. “And I was just so into the moment with you, and I suppose I lost control and it fell out like a nervous tic. I’m not surprised you left.”

  Bunny smiled and gave a gentle chuckle. “Do you want to say it and get it out of the way?” He turned back to the Aga, where a pan of milk was warming. “Give it your best shot.”

  Reuben looked down at his boots and shook his head. “Are you sure? I keep seeing it on the sides of buses and…everywhere, basically. Okay, then. I’ll say it. Ahem.” He drummed his fingers on the edge of the worktop, building himself up to it. With all the amateur dramatics he could muster, Reuben bellowed the line as if he were on an army parade ground—“Draw your sword, sir!”

  And dissolved into helpless giggles.

  Bunny laughed too. He was still chuckling as he poured out the hot chocolate and added a generous jolt of brandy to each mug. So Captain Firth’s sword was out of the way and they were friends again. But could they take it any further than that?

  “Do you mind if I take my boots off?” Reuben asked. “I’m walking snow all through your house.”

  “Take off anything you like,” was Bunny’s reply. “I didn’t mean—if you—oh, of course I bloody did. I still think you’re gorgeous, Reuben. And I’m sorry I flounced.”

  Reuben stroked Bunny’s arm, gazing into the endless blue of his eyes. “It’s all right. You don’t have to say sorry. You’re delicious. And if you want me to help keep you warm, then…you only have to say.”