“Why not? I’m not happy that Nigel ruined my Christmas break, so I decided this character best fitted my mood.”
“You don’t like Christmas?”
“I don’t like working at Christmas. It’s too stressful.”
“You can relax now, can’t you?”
“After the ball,” he grates out.
“Well, hopefully I’m giving you a relaxing ride, so you can chill out nowandafter the ball.” I give him the most cheerful smile imaginable.
He upturns his lips a fraction, into a brief but genuine smile. “You’re a good driver.”
“Why, thank you. Oh, here we go.”
I listen to the presenter as she runs through the weather, a sinking feeling growing in my stomach as she mentions that the wind has unexpectedly changed direction, bringing heavy snow our way earlier than expected. Damon’s expression becomes dark and stormy, like the clouds gathering in the sky.
“We should turn back,” he mutters.
“We’re over halfway there. I’m sure it will be fine.”
He stares at the road. “No grit.”
“It won’t lie that fast. I’ll get you to the ball.”
As if the weather reporter’s words have summoned a storm, the snow falls thicker and heavier. Within minutes, it’s laying on the grass on either side of the road, and coming down so fast, the car’s windscreen wipers are struggling to keep up. I slow right down, not wanting to navigate narrow, twisting roads at speed when I can’t see further than a few feet ahead. The road is no longer dark, but white. The car’s tyres struggle to keep purchase. I find a passing point, pull in and stop, leaving the engine purring, and the heater running.
“Uh,” I say, as I stare at the moving white wall in front of us.
The headlights give the snow an eerie glow. I can’t tell where the ground ends and the sky begins. I check the SatNav, but we’re nowhere near a village.
“Maybe it will pass quickly and melt.” The car tells me it’s below zero outside and getting colder. “I didn’t think it would lay so fast.” I’ve never seen a snowstorm this bad before. It’s the kind of thing that would happen in the movies, but not in the UK, especially not this far south. “I’ll drive slowly and get ussomewhere.” Probably not to the ball. It’s still too far away, but if I can drive ten miles, we’ll reach a village.
“Is it safe to drive?” Damon asks.
“Umm… It would be risky.” But so is staying out here in subzero temperatures.
“Let’s wait it out for a while.”
“You just want to miss the ball,” I joke.
“Not like this,” he says.
I turn the heating up a notch. “I’ll leave the engine on. Hopefully, the storm will blow itself out as quickly as it blew in.”
Not that it looks like it’s going to stop anytime soon. It’s impenetrably thick. If I’d known we would be driving into a storm like this, I’d have suggested leaving a lot earlier in the day to avoid it. It wasn’t meant to be this bad, this early, or exactly where we are. Snowstorms can be fun when you’re inside a cosy building, your nose pressed against the glass, watching the giant flakes float to the ground and transform everything into a winter wonderland. Being stuck in a car, in the middle of nowhere, on what’s essentially a deserted road doesn’t hold the same sense of wonder and magic.
We wait for forty minutes, but the storm doesn’t let up. The snow keeps falling and laying. I’m not sure where the road is anymore.
“Maybe they’ll send a snowplough out,” I say.
“On these roads? Unlikely. You should turn the engine off. We’re burning fuel for nothing.”
“We’re keeping the car warm.” But, he’s right. We can’t keep the engine running indefinitely. “There’s a blanket in the boot. I’ll fetch it for you.”
I put the privacy screen up and then open the door. A cold blast of wind and snow rushes into the car, but thanks to my forethought, it can’t reach Damon in the back. Shivering, I get out, my shoes sinking into thick snow. Immediately, my socks and the bottom of my trouser legs become soaked. Ignoring my own discomfort, I stomp around to the boot, open it, and pull out the large picnic blanket that Nigel keeps in there. I also open the emergency kit, which includes a first-aid kit, two bottles of water—which I replace regularly—and two bars of Kendal Mint Cake. I take the water and food and leave the first-aid kit. Hopefully, we won’t need that. With everything bundled in my arms, I shut the boot and return to the car, closing the door before lowering the privacy screen so I can pass Damon the blanket. He doesn’t take it.
“You’re covered in snow.”
