Page 77 of Last Stop on the Winter Wonderland Express
I go into great detail about how it all played out and what’s happened since with Jasper.
‘Golly – I look away for one minute…’
‘Yeah, but it’s all worked out for the best. But maybe James could drop in on Miles and check how he’s doing once you’re all settled in back home?’
‘I’ll make sure he does. You know, I sort of feel like I had a hand in all of this. I pushed you towards Miles and really put the pressure on. Upon reflection, I shouldn’t have done that, Aubrey. Tried to sway you in such a way.’
‘You only wanted me home, and it’s not like you forced me to date him, you just vouched for the guy, that he’d in fact matured after high school, unlike most of his friends. The rest happened naturally.’
‘Yeah, but I did kind of push you. It’s just I had this vision of us, raising babies, babies you don’t even want, and growing old in houses with white picket fences… Since having this little fellow, I’ve sat here snuggling him and contemplating what kind of life he’ll have, and wonder what if he’s like you? A person who loves adventure and wants to follow the sunshine and have endless summers – I would be in awe of him for living out his dreams in a true free-spirited fashion. And yet here I am trying my utmost to get you to stay in Kent, so I can selfishly have my best friend with me.’
Her sentiments bring a tear to my eye. ‘Aw, Freya, honestly, it isn’t selfish of you, and a very big part of me was tempted to stay in the village for all those reasons too. I miss you like crazy when I’m away, and at times an ocean might separate us, but that doesn’t dim our friendship and it never will.’
‘I know, but thank you for being so understanding. When Bear is a little bigger, maybe we can meet you somewhere in the world for a family holiday.’
‘Well, Princess is talking up summer in the Cyclades…’
35
25 DECEMBER, LAPLAND, FINLAND
Princess clinks her champagne glass for attention. All eyes turn to her. ‘Merry Christmas, all. I’d like to give my thanks to Aubrey.’ Her eyes go glassy with tears. It’s not often Princess loses her composure. I wait for her to continue, unsure of how to help. ‘I know, I know, but if you can’t cry at Christmas, when can you. Anyway, without Aubrey’s intervention I’d have remained alone for the rest of my life, convinced I’d been cursed, because how unlucky in love can one woman be?’
There are murmurs of support around the table as Princess takes a tissue from Barry and wipes the mascara smudges from under her eyes.
‘But that’s just the thing, I haven’t been unlucky at all! In fact, I’ve been just the opposite, I’ve been lucky to have given my heart to three good men, and now, if Barry plays his cards right, possibly a fourth.’ There are titters around the table and Barry grins. ‘And I’m not just saying this because I have a vested interest in the Winter Wonderland Express, but because I truly believe magic happened on that train ride, not only in the friendships that were formed between us, but also the potential of love in the air…’ She gazes at me with a fond smile. ‘And that makes this a Christmas to remember. Thank you to all of you. My world got so much bigger with you in it.’
We stand and take turns hugging and soon dinner is served. We share yet another huge meal of Finnish festive fare. There’s roast meat with a rich and luscious blackcurrant sauce, delicate white fish topped with a juniper berry remoulade. Ham coated in Nordic mustard. And so much more my eyes bulge.
With the roaring fire crackling in the background, Santa peeping around the corner in his attempts to hide from Igor and Katya, reindeer meandering past the window without a care in the world, jaunty Christmas carols playing from speakers above, and Jasper’s hand resting on my leg, this Christmas is going to be impossible to beat.
* * *
Jasper and I are snuggled in my igloo, lying sprawled on the king-size bed, food coma activated. He’s brushing a lock of hair from my face and I’m staring intently into his eyes, sure I’ll never get tired of plumbing the striking unfathomable depths of them.
‘Aubrey, what do you dream about?’ Jasper’s small talk is always big talk. I love that about him.
‘You mean in the future?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Living in the moment. Long road trips staying in soggy tents. Finding cheap flights to Bali and visiting temples. Eating street food at hawkers’ markets. Watching sunsets in places I don’t speak the language. Surprising my family with a visit home for Christmas where Rox decapitates her gingerbread men as she shapes them and Mum will bake them until they’re burnt anyway. Buying this guy I like magnets and souvenir spoons for his secret collection. Walks on a white sandy beach, with you. What do you dream about?’
He strokes my face with a gentle fingertip, his touch sending sparks through me. ‘I dream about a little white van, with a bit of character-building rust and a few golf-ball-like dents. The vehicle sputters and backfires like it’s got something to say. We have an old-school road map, because isn’t it more fun to get lost that way? I see fresh-baked baguettes with lashings of thick butter as we eat greedily, parked on the side of a road we don’t know the name of with a view of the vineyard somewhere in the south of France. At night rain drums on the roof of the van as we snuggle on a thin mattress that we’re both too polite to admit is making our backs ache. And I dream about a lot of kissing and a lot of canoodling.’
‘Sounds perfect.’
The map of our lives, where all those roads before led us to each other.
‘It does.’
‘France, then Spain, then…?’
‘Anywhere you go, I’ll follow.’
His lips are a breath away from mine, so I bridge the gap and go to kiss him, just as a flash of colour catches my eye. Above the dome of the igloo, the Northern Lights flash a spectacular show, but eh, they’re just the Northern Lights and this is Jasper. I close my eyes and press my lips against Jasper’s, certain that I’ve never felt this kind of love before and never will again. We’ll have road trips and wrinkled road maps. Passports full of stamps. Stolen kisses under foreign skies. Stories told around a campfire. Lazy Sundays in bed with our books. And a whole world to explore, while he writes about far flung destinations, and I curate holidays for those with wanderlust in their veins. As our kiss ends, the heavens above explode in colour.
* * *
