make an impression?’ He raises his eyebrows.
‘Do you ever wonder how different our lives would have been if you hadn’t decided to buy flowers that day?’ I ask, returning my head to my pillow.
‘Truth?’ he asks.
‘Truth.’
‘I think if it hadn’t been that day, it would have been another day. I think it was fate.’
‘I love you.’ I yawn.
‘I know.’
From nowhere, I think back to the day I had gone for a run, when I met Richard – the man from Hayworth Hill – his words from that conversation so long ago replaying in my mind: ‘I don’t think there was anything I could have done to change my life even if I wanted to,’ he had said.
But what if I don’t want to?
What if I don’t want to change my life? What if I want to keep my sister and my family?
Chapter Seventy-Five
Ed
It’s fucking freezing. I mean cold, like I’ve never ever felt before. I’m not sure if my fingers and toes are still attached, but I look over to where Jen and the kids are beaming from the sleigh, and I don’t care about the fact that beneath my clothes my extremities could very well be perishing. Christ, I hope Jen isn’t expecting me to perform later; I doubt she’ll be able to find my boy beneath all these layers, and even if she does, I suspect he may be hunkering away, shying from the cold.
‘Come on, Daddy!’ Hailey shouts, her cheeks red, her eyes bright behind her glasses. Oscar is fidgeting with his scarf and puffing out steam through his nostrils.
‘I’m coming!’ I jog/stomp my way over to them through the snow. I’m not sure my knees will ever recover from this trip.
I shuffle forward in the snow; soft flakes are falling from the sky again. The sky is blue. That sounds like a simple explanation, but what I mean to say is, it is every shade of blue; above me it is deep blue . . . That’s not better, is it? The only way is to describe it by the Crayola crayons that are currently broken in half in the kids’ cupboard. If I was to get a fresh new pack and lay out all the shades of blue, they would go from baby blue to periwinkle blue to ruddy blue, to . . . what colour does Oscar use for Aquaman? Ultramarine – you get the idea – until they end with white . . . next to the horizon, the blue sinks into white.
Snow cushions my footsteps, the sound swallowed, like I’ve hit mute on the controller. Everything is so quiet here. Well, apart from the sniffs of the huskies, the squeals and creaks of the kids as they sit huddled beneath a fur throw.
My heart swells inside my chest, well, not actually swells because I’m sure that would give me a heart attack and that is the last thing I want to happen here, could you imagine how fucked up that would make my kids? I mean that I never thought being here would be as magical as it looks in the brochures. I felt pretty damn cynical about the whole thing, but as I look at the excitement and joy on their faces . . . no, my heart isn’t really swelling but my love for my family is. Just look at them. I reach up onto the sled and stand behind them. Jen is sitting with the kids Cool Runnings style, Hailey between her legs, Oscar between hers. My gloves hold on to the driving bow – the arch of wood like a handle.
Ahead of us the snowmobile motor ticks impatiently, ready to clear our path; the snow is falling at a steady pace, but the staff aren’t concerned. I’m glad to watch the snowmobile from afar; yesterday Jen persuaded me to let her on one.
In front of the sled the dogs, all eight of them, are impatient to get going.
‘OK?’ I ask Jen, her face turning and tilting up to me. Isn’t this magical? Isn’t this amazing? it says, and I match her expression. The forest ahead of us is . . . Christ, it is amazing; the trees are covered in snow, some of the green patching through the fir, but others are gleaming. When we first got here, I reached up to one of the trees and gave it a gentle tug. I expected the ‘snow’ to stay still, so convinced was I that this was all fake.