Page 68 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas
“I could ask you the same,” said Phil.
Kate was quiet for a moment. Why was she doing this? Why did she feel the need to find a partner? The ache in her chest gave a twinge and she remembered.
“I suppose I’m tired of bouncing in and out of relationships,” said Kate. “I’ve reached the point where I’d rather be by myself than compromise. I’m giving this a go so that I can say I made the effort. And if nothing comes of it, then I will happily hang up my dating hat.”
Phil nodded sagely, a rare expression of seriousness on his face.
“You might be the most emotionally intelligent person I’ve met on this merry-go-round!”
“Thank you,” said Kate. “I think. Now you. What brings you to the Twelve Dates of Christmas?”
“The same as you, I guess,” he said. “I’ve played around, done the love-’em-and-leave-’em thing. I’m tired of it. I lead a fulfilling life. I’ve got a great kid, a great business... every other aspect of my life is full, but my love life is pitifully shallow. I guess I want a relationship with a lover that’s meaningful for a change.”
Kate imagined herself ripping open her puffer jacket and yelling,Take me now! I’ll be your meaningful relationship!but she kept her façade cool.
This wasn’t what she’d expected. After the excitement of last night, Kate had imagined she would find Phil to be fun but ultimately not her type. Instead she found herself drawn to Phil’s enthusiasm for life. He had a kind of Crocodile-Dundee-meets-Keanu-Reeves thing going on that made her feel like she wanted to giggle a lot and show him how she could do really good handstands.
After an hour they reached the first camp. Inside the pop-up yurt, bales of hay covered in sheepskins circled a portable fire pit. Most couples shared a bale: some looked as if they wouldn’t be leaving the warmth of the yurt unless they were forced to. Conversations were lively but muted as the reps prepared mugs of instant coffee and hot chocolate from large catering urns and passed them round.
“Here it comes again!” said a woman in a faux-fur Russian hat,pointing through the gap in the yurt flaps. Phil got to his feet and pinned the flap back to get a better look.
“Wow,” he said. “It’s really coming down.”
And it was. Big white flakes flurried around outside. Kate joined Phil and another couple at the entrance. The sky was pewter-gray; it must have been turning all morning, but Kate had been so engrossed in her conversation with Phil, she hadn’t noticed.
Hugging her mug in her gloved hands, Kate stepped out into the clearing. There was something so peaceful about snow. Even the center of London was somehow subdued when it snowed.
Phil came out to join her. The forest sounds were muffled as though someone had turned the volume down. The ground was cold and hard and the snow accumulated immediately. The layering on the already dusted leaves and branches became thicker, whiter, and their dark undersides stood out in sharp relief.
Kate held out her hand and caught a snowflake. She held it close to her face and squinted. Six little points, like a star with icy frond arms. It held its glorious delicate shape for one long moment and then it was gone.
Kate wrestled her camera out from her inside pocket.
“I’ve got to get photos,” she said, squidging her mug into the snowy forest floor.
She crouched down and let the flakes settle on her black jeans, snapping pictures of the tiny miracles before they dissolved from the scant heat of her thighs. Then she moved to the tree branches and the crisp fallen leaves on the ground and the crystals that clung to the guy ropes.
She became so engrossed in her work, she forgot she wasn’t alone. It was all so beautiful, she had to capture the fleeting changes of scene. Each fresh layer altered the shapes in the microcosm.
Kate ducked under a snow-laden branch and pushed into the undergrowth. The snow was lighter here, drifting down through holes in the frosted canopy above, to rest butterfly-soft on the bracken. She leaned in close to a twisted knot in a tree trunk and focused her lens on the frosted spiral lines in the wood.
There was a snap behind her.
“Kate.”
She spun round to see Phil smiling at her. He laughed softly.
“You’ve got snowflakes in your hair,” he said.
He brushed his finger along the hair that had escaped her bobble hat.
“You are beautiful,” he said, and bent down to kiss her on the lips. Kate kissed him back. A soft, tender kiss that made her forget how cold her feet were inside her stiff walking boots.
“They’re moving on,” Phil said, standing up straight and extending his hand to her. Kate took his hand, smiling, and let him lead her out of the undergrowth and back into the clearing, where the rest of the group was gathered for the next leg of the hike.
Crikey!Kate thought.I’ve kissed two men in twenty-four hours. Does that make me a “loose woman”?The idea made her smile, and the smile wouldn’t be quashed as they pushed forward along the snowy track.
At the next refreshment stop the rep made an announcement. The snow had continued to fall heavily for the last hour and some people’s phones had been bleeping amber weather warnings.
