21.
This way to the North Pole
Okay, it’s official. The Little Cornish Kitchen is our new favourite bakery, more so because they do mini cupcake tasters to help you decide which large one you’d like. After my first I would have sworn the Bailey’s ones were my new favourite. But then I had a mini chocolate reindeer one, which Fliss decided was good for me. The way she insisted that eating what I have an aversion for should help me regain my power, she sounded more like Willow than Willow. But there again she might have had a point. If all my fears were chocolate flavour, I’d inhale them too. Either way, I closed my eyes, concentrated on the butter cream instead of the antlers and nose, and it scored ten out of ten on our taste chart, and became my new favourite for all of ten seconds before I progressed to the coffee with roasted hazelnuts. Which knocked the others out across the bay. Willow was persuaded too and guess what? – she chose the gluten free low sugar style with the purple petal and the sprig of real lavender, and took a box of six mini ones for the Twiglets for later. Which is progress of a kind.
And then Milo plonked his chair down between Ambrose and Miranda’s, which as a separating technique was about as subtle as jumping in there with his size tens. But as he was also holding Harriet who had a very sticky cupcake in each hand and was doing side swipes at Ambie’s cashmere overcoat, it did in the end put significant distance between them. The best thing was, with Harriet being looked after, it meant that Fliss, Oscar and I were free to go back to ease our cupcake consciences with a few circuits of the rink. And as Keef had gone to some other pressing engagement that could have had something to do with a meeting at the Happy Shark, at least Ambie and Miranda were back together.
As for Fliss and I, once we hit the ice again you could say we amazed ourselves. When you get your legs and body swinging in time to the Christmas tunes, this skating lark is a lot easier than you’d think, and like the cupcakes, it’s very more-ish. Fliss and I always had a thing for Justin from The Darkness – a straight guy who can carry off a sequined jumpsuit and make it ironic at the same time is our kind of hero – so the second his voice comes out over the speakers we’re pretty much zooming around singing along toChristmas Time, don’t let the bells ringat the top of our voices. In fact we’re so engrossed by the time we clock that Bill’s here too, he’s already tearing around the ice. The giveaway is, he’s not wearing bashed up borrowed skates like the rest of us, he seems to be wearing his own. Which kind of suggests to me he must have an ice rink at Downton as well as a stately home.
I break off half way through the chorus to roll my eyes at Fliss. ‘Someone should tell him the Olympic speed skating track is the other way.’
Fliss pulls a face. ‘It’s a bloody good job he’s good at weaving in and out.’ She tilts towards me with a low laugh. ‘If this is a competition, he’s certainly putting old Milo in the shade.’
I shake my head. ‘Those two and their baking wars, what are they like?’
She tilts her head and gives me a sideways look. ‘That wasn’t quite the competition I was talking about.’
‘So which onedidyou mean?’
She gives me a wink. ‘If you don’t already know, it doesn’t matter.’
Then I remember. ‘How could I forget. Smiley Milo versus Misery Bill. How can he scowl that much and still concentrate on skating?’
And then Justin stops singing, and as if that wasn’t enough bad news on its own, I hear some very familiar guitar picking start, and my heart sinks.
Scout lets out a shriek. ‘Willow, it’sFeliz Navidad!’ She launches herself into a series of spins, and when she pulls out of the last one she, Sailor and Solomon start whizzing around the ice faster than Bill, all singing in Spanish.
There’s a serious scraping sound, a shower of crystals flying up from the ice, and Bill suddenly comes to a halt next to us. He half closes an eye, and when he talks it’s somehow obvious he’s addressing me, not all of us.
‘Did you notice, they’re playing our tune, Pom Pom.’
Apart from brushing the ice chips out of my eyes, and off my jacket, I absolutely don’t react. ‘Yours maybe, Bill. Mine is Shakin Stevens.’
He’s still staring at me. ‘I thought you said yours wasI Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day?’
I’m holding firm on this. ‘No, that’s my tag line, not my favourite song.’ I’m happy to point out, he doesn’t know me as well as he’s trying to pretend.
He shakes his head. ‘There’s a difference?’
Of course there bloody is.‘Absolutely.’
‘Jeez, as I’ll say, and not for the first time, who knew Christmas was so complicated?’ He’s holding out his hand. ‘Come on, while we’re here, you might as well see what it feels like to skate properly.’
‘I-I-I-I …’ I’m trying to sayI totally don’t think so, but that’s as far as I get. The next thing I know it’s as if my feet grew wings and jet packs too. This is nothing like what I was doing when I was rigid with fear and hanging onto Milo. With Bill it’s as if he’s got the power and the balance for both of us, and as we tear round the ice I’m so shocked and surprised, I actually forget to breathe. By the time we pull up, I’m dizzy, and it has to be from lack of oxygen.
‘So how was that?’ Bill’s staring down at me.
‘The music’s going on a long time.’
‘That’s because I asked them to play it on repeat. So how was the skating?’
‘Great.’ That’s probably the closest I’ve ever come to space travel, but I have to be straight with him. ‘To be honest I’d probably have enjoyed it more if you weren’t so up yourself, and superior about it all.’
His frown deepens. ‘And what do you mean by that?’
I’m looking at his skates. ‘Those show-off look-at-me shoes for starters.’
He’s looking like he has no idea what I’m talking about. ‘They’re just my skates.’
