‘Perhaps thirty was a task too far.’
‘Then maybe we should name the reindeer,’ he suggested.
Why had he said that? The reindeer was not staying. It was actually irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.
‘We? Or me?’ Orla asked.
Now it felt as though they were about to name their child…
‘I do not care about the reindeer,’ he reminded.
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘Why?’
She put her hand on the reindeer’s fur coat. ‘Because I see you care. Even when you think you aren’t showing it. With Tommy. With the foxes. With Delphine.’
He swallowed, the worry invading again. He couldn’t tell her. He had to simply bury it until he knew more.
‘Let’s call her… Noble,’ Orla said. ‘Because Grenoble is the nearest place and, well, she’s a queen.’
‘I like it,’ he agreed, brushing his hand over the reindeer’s fur.
‘Do you?’
‘I said so.’
‘I know. It took me by surprise.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you don’t admit to liking things.’
He let go of the reindeer and took a step back. ‘That’s not true.’
‘You don’t actually give away anything about yourself.’
‘I could say the same thing about you.’
‘OK, I will tell you something about me if you tell me something about you. And I’m not talking about your favourite crisp flavour.’
‘I like Original Pringles. There.’
‘I said not that.’
‘Well, what do you want?’
‘Something real.’
This was getting deep and he wasn’t ready for it. Because being near her already gave him pinpricks up and down his spine.
‘I thought we agreed the reindeer was the story, not me.’
‘I don’t think I agreed to that.’
He sighed. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Where you went to when we were getting Noble into the trailer. When you went silent, when you stopped breathing, when your eyes glazed over.’
