Winter’s Fairytale

by Maxine Morrey

  I tried to keep the smile off my face. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. I believe her exact words were “You did what?” shortly followed by “Is there currently a large carving knife sticking out of your chest?”’

  A smile broke through. Mags was right. Ordinarily, I would have been wanting to reach for the biggest, sharpest implement I could lay my hands on. But this time? The look on Rob’s face had been enough. It really was just a jumper after all. I handed him one of the mugs of hot chocolate and he followed me into the living area, where we sank down onto the sofa. He ripped open the bakery bag he’d picked up and revealed two apple turnovers.

  ‘I’ll need to go out for one of your ridiculous runs if I eat that too.’

  Rob ignored my protest and handed me a plate, before beginning demolition proceedings on the other confection.

  ‘What’s ridiculous about running?’ he asked, four bites later when he’d finished.

  ‘Not with the running itself. Just you choosing to go out and do it when there’s several feet of snow on the ground just because you’re in a huff!’

  ‘I wasn’t in a huff.’

  ‘Oh, pffft! You were totally in a huff.’

  Rob leant forward and put his drink down.

  ‘And you say I’m impossible.’

  ‘You are.’ I confirmed, sipping at my hot chocolate, ‘Especially when you’re in a huff.’ I added quietly.

  I saw him turn and look at me, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief. I peered over the top of my cup, and raised one eyebrow at him, daring him to challenge my declaration. He leant over and took my cup away, placing it on the coffee table, next to his. I sat where I was, not quite sure what was happening. Rob turned back and looking down at my hands, took them in his own.

  ‘I’m sorry that I went out earlier. I know that it worried you but I really have been in worse situations.’

  ‘You did fall over though.’ I pointed out.

  ‘Yes. I did. And if it makes you feel better, it bloody hurt, so it serves me right, eh?’

  ‘No. Of course not.’

  He squeezed my hands gently. Not that I could see my own hands, swamped as they were within his.

  ‘I was just frustrated that we couldn’t talk about what was really quite a simple problem. It didn’t give me much hope for anything else.’

  ‘I didn’t want to talk about it. I could see you already felt bad about it, so what was the point of me getting all uppity about it? It wasn’t going to change anything.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ he smiled at me. ‘Thank you. Although I’ve been screamed at for a lot less, so just for future reference…’

  ‘Did you just give me permission to yell at you?’

  ‘I… no, I don’t think so. At least that certainly wasn’t my intention.’

  ‘Oh. Ok. Wait, what did you mean about “didn’t give much hope for anything else”?’ I frowned at him, casting my mind back to what he’d just said, ‘Anything else of what?’

  He let go of my hands and turned back to our drinks, passing mine over to me.

  ‘Nothing, really. I didn’t mean anything specific. I just meant… that I… that it would be good to be able to talk about things, whatever things.’

  I pulled a face over my mug. For the articulate solicitor, that didn’t sound like a great argument. Mind you, he was practically as blue as a Smurf when he’d come back from that run, so perhaps his brain was still thawing out. I let it go. He was right. I should have just told him that the jumper had been bought to celebrate something.

  ‘I’m sorry, Rob,’ I started, ‘I promise that next time you ruin something I will tell you exactly why I’m so upset. I could even throw some screaming and shouting in there too, if you’d like?’

  ‘Sounds perfect.’ he said with a grin and finished off his drink.

  ***

  I scooped up my stuff and began to pile it back into my bag. I’d made some really good progress on the designs and had a couple that I was sure this bride was going to like. I’d emailed the sketches and notes over to her and said I’d call her in a couple of days to give her a bit of time to think over things and come up with any questions or extra ideas. From his position on the sofa, Rob saw me finish clearing up.

  ‘All done?’ he asked.

  ‘For the moment.’ I replied, tucking the laptop sleeve into my big shoulder bag, along with the portfolio file, ‘What are you up to?’

  He was sat at an angle on the sofa, with his legs stretched out along the length of it. He had some files resting on his stomach and one in his hand.

  ‘Just a couple of briefs I needed to look at. I’m pretty much done now though.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  I went back to my bag and fiddled about for a few seconds.

  ‘Izz?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Are you sniggering because I said I was looking at briefs?’

  ‘No! Of course not!’ I said, completely lying my face off.

  I heard the papers land on the floor and a second later, Rob’s arm was round my waist, pulling me up off the floor and placing me next to him on the sofa. He sat back and looked at me. I raised my eyes cautiously. I couldn’t help having a childish sense of humour. It was a family trait. And it amused me, which was the whole point of a sense of humour, I thought. It didn’t hurt anyone so I wasn’t about to defend it. I’d ended up stifling it so much with Steven because, although he never actually said anything, it was clear he often didn’t approve of me and Mags falling around at something inane and ridiculous. I realised that I missed it. I missed laughing at what I wanted to. I wasn’t about to expect others to find all the same things funny but I wasn’t going to be judged for what I deemed to be amusing. So, if Rob was about to tell me I shouldn’t be sniggering at him and his briefs, well, he was in for a disappointment.

  ‘You’re hilarious.’ he stated simply, his brown eyes dancing with laughter.

  ‘I am?’ This was a surprise.

  ‘Yes.’ He gave me a squeeze then got up and went into the kitchen. I scooted round on my knees to watch as he began pulling items out of the fridge and placed a chopping board on the counter.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Dinner.’ He smiled.

  ‘What’s for dinner?’

  ‘Vietnamese chicken and sweet potato curry.’

  ‘Oh, that sounds delicious!’ I said, pushing myself off the sofa and going over to where there was now a whole line up of yummy looking ingredients, awaiting preparation.

  ‘Can I help with anything?’ I moved out of Rob’s way as he placed some chicken breasts down on the counter. Tripping slightly, I glanced down and noticed one of my socks was working its way off my foot and now sat several inches beyond my toes. I leant on Rob’s arm and lifted my foot up, wiggling it back into the capacious sock. He in turn stood patiently waiting as I rearranged my hosiery.

  ‘Better?’

  ‘Much. So, what can I do?’

  Rob was a really good cook. I decided this on the first mouthful of the curry. It was wonderful.

  ‘Good?’ he asked, smiling as I suddenly realised I was making ‘yum’ noises.

  I nodded.

  ‘Good.’ he said again and set about his own plate.

  ‘How did you learn to do all this?’ I asked a little later as we started on another bottle of wine, empty plates long since cleared away.

  ‘What? Cook? It’s not that difficult. It’s just a case of reading and practice.’

  ‘Not just that. I mean, this whole flat. It’s perfect. Decorated just right.’ I stood up, wobbled, sat down, and then stood up again. Rob remained seated. ‘I mean, this tree. It’s gorgeous! It’s like something out of a magazine. And the lights here – just so – it’s all, so… lovely!’ I had a feeling I might have had a little too much wine. We’d opened a bottle when we began preparing dinner, and another cork had j gone pop. Perhaps I should sit down again. I turned back towards the sofa, and scooted my sock-encased feet along t
he floor.

  ‘Ha! Who needs to pay for Somerset House ice skating when you can do this?’ I pushed off and slid along.

  ‘Dumdumadah, dadadadadadumdumadah…’ I recreated the Bolero music with what I deemed to be absolute accuracy and slid past the back of the sofa. Rob watched with an odd look on his face, which for the most part looked like amusement.

  ‘You’re bloody nuts, woman.’

  ‘Charming!’ I said, sliding back past him.

  ‘You do remember they both end up on the floor at the end of that routine, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m putting my own spin on it.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, please don’t,’ he laughed, getting up and coming across to where I was now happily humming Ravel and taking small scooty steps. The warning about falling over hadn’t been entirely lost on me and I wasn’t yet drunk enough to forget that my backside still hurt from the tumble yesterday. However, I soon forgot all of it as the next moment I was flipped over Rob’s shoulder, where he then spun me round again until I was in the air, and face to face with him. Gently he let me slide down until my toes once again thankfully found the floor. He laughed before wandering up into the kitchen, where he then began looking through cupboards.

  ‘What was that?’ I asked, when I got my breath back.

  Having apparently found what he was looking for, he walked back past me and headed for the sofa. Seeing I was yet to move, he grabbed my hand and pulled me in the same direction.

  ‘What? You’re the only one allowed to put your own spin on things?’ He tugged me gently. ‘Come on, Queen of the Ice, come and sit down before you fall down.’

  ‘Totally blaming you now if that happens, by the way!’

  ‘All right.’ Rob wasn’t fazed.

  ‘Do you always fling your girlfriends about?’

  Rob tilted his head and gave me a look. I suddenly realised what I’d said.

  ‘I didn’t mean “girlfriends” girlfriends! Obviously! I meant your friends who are girls. Hence Girl. Friends. Girlfriends.’

  I also realised that I was doing the air quotes thing again. Definitely too much wine.

  ‘Obviously.’ he repeated. ‘And no. Not generally. Whether they are actually girlfriends or friends who are girls.’

  ‘So?’ I waggled my head at him, indicating I was looking for an explanation.

  He shrugged. ‘You’re easy to fling about.’

  My mouth dropped open.

  ‘Seriously!’

  ‘Oh come on. I saw you smiling! Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.’

  He was right. It had been fun. Unexpected and silly and fun. Oh! It was so annoying when he was right.

  ‘So, if this isn’t your usual evening routine, how did you know you wouldn’t drop me on my head?’

  ‘Because, one, are you joking? You seriously think I can’t pick you up without dropping you? You’ve noticed the size difference between us, right?’

  ‘Ha ha! I’ve seen all those wedding videos where the poor bride gets dropped by some groom trying to show off.’

  Rob laughed and closed his eyes. ‘Isabel Bryant, I swear that if you ever marry me, I promise not to drop you during our wedding dance.’ When he opened them, they were shining with merriment. ‘Happy now?’

  I nodded. Although happy wasn’t exactly the only thing I was feeling. There was suddenly a big old dollop of confusion added in because the thought of being in such a position with Rob didn’t sound all that bad. Yep. Definitely too much wine.

  Chapter Seven

  I pushed my wine glass away and put all rogue thoughts of a wedding dance with Rob to the very far corners of my mind. Where no one, not even Rob or Mags, went. Best place for them. It was just an off-the-cuff remark that he hadn’t even thought about when he said it, so I shouldn’t either. I glared at the wine glass for getting me into all this.

  ‘What’s it ever done to you?’

  ‘Huh?’ I jumped as Rob’s voice broke into my thoughts.

  He nodded at the glass as he tipped cashew nuts into a bowl. ‘You’re glaring at that glass like it ran over your cat.’

  ‘I don’t have a cat.’

  He raised an eyebrow at me. I took the remote control from his hands and changed the subject.

  ‘What are we watching?’

  ***

  I’d really wanted to see the film but comfort got the best of me and next thing I knew, Rob’s voice was drifting down softly into my sleep. Slowly I opened my eyes. He was stood with his back to me and my phone to his ear.

  ‘Of course. No, I’ll tell her. Yep, speak to you soon. Have a good time. Bye.’

  By the time he’d turned around, I was sitting up and running my hands through my hair, trying to get it into some semblance of order.

  ‘Did I wake you?’ He looked concerned.

  ‘No, not really.’ I pointed at my phone, ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Mags.’ he said, handing me the phone.

  I scrolled through the texts which had started out with a general ‘Hi Hon, hope you’re ok. Let me know’ but after no replies over a couple of hours, had ended with ‘Where are you?????’. I assumed it was at this point she had decided to ring and Rob had answered the phone so as not to wake me.

  ‘She said she’d texted you but got worried when you didn’t reply because it wasn’t like you.’

  ‘No. I reply to her pretty quickly generally, unless I’m at work. Same with her.’

  ‘I didn’t like to wake you. But you should call her back.’

  My phone pinged with Mags’ text alert. I read the message.

  ‘No, it’s fine. She knows I’m ok.’

  Not to mention the fact that asking her why the hell she’d just sent me big grin and kissy face emoticons might be a little awkward right now.

  ‘Ok.’ He sat back down next to me and I quickly switched the phone’s screen off. ‘You missed the film.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘That’s all right. It wasn’t that good anyway. Nice sleep?’

  I nodded and felt that sleep reaching out to claim me again. Rob stood up and gently pulled me from where I was starting to get comfortable again.

  ‘Come on you, go to bed.’ I made a bit of a huffy whining noise but knew he was right. I shoved off and headed for the bathroom. Managing to make it back to my room this evening without ending up on my backside, I quickly stuck my head back around the door to the living room which was now lit only by one lamp and the TV. The sound on it was down low, probably in deference to me, which I thought was sweet.

  ‘Night.’

  Rob turned his head. ‘Night Izz. They’ve just said that they’re clearing some of the roads tomorrow morning, and the snow’s stopped – so looks like we’ll be able to get you home.’

  ‘Oh right! That’s great!’ I replied, sounding a lot more enthusiastic than I felt.

  ‘Thought you’d be pleased.’ Rob returned, now facing the screen.

  I said goodnight again and headed off to the guest room.

  ***

  Rob was just coming through the front door when I walked out from the bathroom, having showered and dressed, pulling his sweatshirt on back over my dress and wearing the clean socks that he’d kindly provided for me. He didn’t look quite so Smurf-like as he had done yesterday after his run, but it was obviously still pretty cold out there.

  ‘Good run?’

  ‘Yes. And I didn’t even fall over once today!’

  ‘That’s because you can actually see the pavements today, by the looks of it.’ I said, peering down out of the window as I took the bag of groceries he was carrying off him and placed it in the kitchen.

  ‘Well, that always helps.’

  ‘So, what’s all this for?’ I asked, partly because I needed to distract myself from looking at Rob’s extremely fit body and partly because I was just being nosy.

  ‘Sunday lunch. It’s my turn to cook it today.’

  ‘Oh! Right. I’ll get out of your hair. I saw some
cabs starting to move about down–’

  ‘Oh no you don’t! You’re on spud peeling duty.’

  ‘I am?’

  ‘Do you mind?’ he asked, suddenly sounding a little unsure.

  ‘Of course not! How many?’

  ‘Enough for four. There’s a big pan in that drawer in front of you.’

  He pulled at his laces, which were less stubborn this time, and yanked off his running shoes, before padding off down the hallway in his socks. A few minutes later I heard the shower start so I pressed the power button on Rob’s digital radio in the kitchen, relaxed into the sounds of Classic FM and piled up peeled potatoes in the pan.

  By the time Rob came back. I’d also prepared the carrots and the broccoli that were in the bag, hoping that they were actually for Sunday lunch. I’d got a bit carried away, and just prepared everything in sight. Assured that they were indeed for today, I felt better and started work on the strawberries Rob had now brought out of the fridge, along with some meringue nests and cream.

  ‘So when you said it was your turn to cook lunch today, is this some sort of tradition?’

  ‘Well, it’s not a strict thing. Just my family like to get together and we tend to alternate who cooks. Today ended up being me.’

  ‘This is a family dinner?’ I was suddenly back to feeling awkward. ‘Oh Rob, I should go. I really shouldn’t be–’

  ‘It’s fine. It’s nothing formal, Izzy. Don’t worry about it. My parents can’t get up because of the snow anyway, so it’s just going to be my sister and her fiancé, and you and me.’ He glanced at me as he picked up two of the meringues and squished them into pieces in one scrunch, ‘Assuming you’re staying.’

  Silence hung over us. I didn’t want to intrude on a family dinner. I’d never even met any of Rob’s family and then there’d be the whole thing of having to explain what I was doing there, and, well, it wasn’t like I was his girlfriend, but I had just spent the weekend with him. But then, weren’t there probably a lot of people in London this weekend who hadn’t planned to stay? Of course there were. But most of them would be in hotels. Oh!

  ‘You’ll really like her.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘My sister, Jenny. I’d love you to meet her. I think you’ll really like her.’