The air went still. It was the first time he’d said those words. It was the first time, and yet it felt like they’d been there all along, since the very first day.
‘I love you too,’ I breathed softly.
There was cake mixture on my fingers when they slid around his neck, but he didn’t care as his mouth met mine. There was a sweetness to that kiss that had absolutely nothing to do with the cake I’d been making. The cake I happily abandoned as Adam lifted me up and my legs locked around his hips ...
Forty minutes later, when I stood back to admire the very basic cake I’d made in Josh’s kitchen, I was beaming as broadly as aBake Offwinner. The simple Victoria sandwich was a million miles away from my usual creations, but I couldn’t have been prouder of myachievement. I automatically reached for my phone to post a photo on Instagram, before remembering there was still no internet and my battery was low. I was starting to miss social media like a lost friend and wondered yet again how Josh had so easily withdrawn from that kind of interaction. And more importantly,what had caused him to do so.
Fletcher reappeared at some point during my endeavours, ever hopeful that a dollop of raspberry jam or buttercream might hit the floor. He was practically drooling in anticipation as I cut a large wedge of sponge and transferred it to a plate.
The cabin was filled with the mouth-watering aroma of cake, a fact that Josh was unaware of, for he’d failed to put in an appearance at lunchtime. Perhaps he always worked through, or perhaps he was trying to pretend my presence here was just a bad dream that he’d wake from soon.
Fletcher jumped excitedly to his feet as I shrugged into my coat, clearly ready for another walk. ‘Later,’ I promised, picking up the cake plate in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. He padded behind me to the front door, not giving up until I squeezed through a narrow gap to prevent him from following me. Through the closed door I heard his disappointed sigh.
The deck was treacherous. I almost lost my footing twice on the snow-covered wraparound and cursed my footwear with its zero traction. Walking as gingerly as an OAP, I reached the shallow steps that led down to the clearing. There was a smooth wooden rail beside them, but with my hands full of peace offerings, I had to descend without it.
It happened when I was almost on solid ground. The last tread looked no different from the others; there was no way of knowing that beneath the thin crust of snow was a layer of black ice. The smooth soles of my fashion boots didn’t stand a chance.
My startled cry was whipped away by the wind as my left leg shot out from under me. My arms pinwheeled, sending scalding tea and Victoria sandwich in every direction, while my legs did that running-on-the-spot thing seen in cartoons. But then my heel skidded, and I was suddenly airborne.
I landed badly, crashing to the frozen ground with a bone-shuddering jolt. I knew instantly I’d done damage. My left ankle was twisted beneath me and felt as though it was on fire. Equally painful was the throb at the back of my head, which had connected sharply with something unforgiving beneath the snow.
A hot shaft of pain lanced through my head when I attempted to sit up, and I felt a fledgling flutter of panic. I tried to straighten my leg, but my ankle immediately protested. I was going to need help getting up ... and there was only one person around to ask.
My first attempt to call Josh was a pitiful squeak that he’d never have been able to hear. Winded by the fall, my lungs felt like broken bellows, incapable of gathering enough oxygen to summon up a whimper, much less a plea for help.
I called Josh’s name repeatedly, but my voice was no match pitted against the howling wind and the creaking boughs of the trees. The workshop was less than fifty yards from the cabin, but Josh might as well have been a hundred miles away. For now, I was on my own. Or maybe not.
From within the cabin I heard the sound of paws scrabbling so frantically against the door they were sure to have scratched the woodwork. The noise was accompanied by a series of high-pitched, keening wails that I didn’t think I’d ever heard Fletcher make before.
My eyes filled with hot tears at the reminder that Fletcher wasn’t just my dog, he was Adam’s too, and he was doing exactly what his owner would have instructed: he was trying to help me.Fletcher began to bark. Volley after volley ricocheted around the clearing, the sound bouncing deafeningly from tree to tree.
I turned my head on its lumpy pillow of snow, and stared at the sliding doors of the workshop, willing them to open. Sleet was falling on my face, stinging my skin like a thousand tiny needles and making my eyes water, but they were open when the doors finally wrenched apart.
Josh’s face looked entirely different with its mask of indifference ripped away. This time I finally recognised him. But in an instant a new expression took over: panic. He covered the fifty yards or so between us at Olympian speed, never once losing his footing on the ice and snow. He dropped to the ground beside me, his jeans immediately saturated.
‘Lily! What happened?’
‘I fell,’ I said, hugely embarrassed by the wobble in my voice.
‘What are you doing out here? Why aren’t you—?’ His voice broke off and a look of terror flooded his features. ‘Christ. You’re bleeding. Don’t move.’
‘I am?’ I asked, confused. Had I impaled myself on something hidden beneath the snow? If so, why couldn’t I feel it? It was only my head and ankle that felt painful. Oh ... and my pride, that haddefinitelytaken a beating.
‘Don’t move. I need to see where it’s coming from,’ Josh instructed, sounding more scared than I’d ever heard him. He was looking down in horror at a circle of red that had pooled beneath me. ‘Fuck. I think it’s coming from your back. We might need the air ambulance.’
I glanced down, and then incredibly began to smile. ‘Or maybe just a fork?’
‘Huh?’ Josh said, his eyes darting around the clearing, as though assessing its suitability as a helicopter landing pad.
‘A fork,’ I repeated, reaching up and taking hold of his hand. It was the first time since I’d arrived that he didn’t flinch or pull away from my touch.
‘It’s jam,’ I said. ‘Raspberry jam.’
Cautiously, Josh dipped a finger in the red-tinged snow, brought it to his face and sniffed deeply before investigating the residue with the tip of his tongue. Watching the realisation dawn on his face was something I wouldn’t forget in a hurry. The relief changed every feature, one by one.
‘Why, exactly, are you lying in a pool of jam?’ he asked, sitting back on his haunches. The damp stains on his jeans now went all the way up his thighs, and I noticed for the first time that he was only wearing another washed-thin t-shirt. He had to be freezing.
‘I made a cake and was bringing you a slice when your steps sabotaged me.’
