I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day - Milly Johnson Page 0,2

the same result as every other knock she’d tried in the past fifteen minutes. She repeated the process with the remaining five houses – nothing; summer holiday cottages no doubt, abandoned until the start of the season. She returned to her best – well, only – option of shelter; the inn. And if she couldn’t find a way into it, she’d have to make one and risk the consequences. Better to be prosecuted for breaking and entering than be found frozen to her steering wheel, she reasoned.

Thanks to a delinquent spell as a teen, Bridge was deft with a lock and a screwdriver, and she always carried a toolbox with her in the car. A dysfunctional, unorganised upbringing had led her to find solace and stability in being prepared for most eventualities, although that did not extend to her having her waterproof coat and snow-worthy wellies with her today. They were currently sitting in the back of the sturdy four-by-four she would have driven if a) she hadn’t been intent on trying to show Luke Palfreyman that she was more than a match for him in the financial stakes and b) the weathermen of the UK hadn’t been such inept pillocks.

She swung open the boot, hoisted out the metal box stored in the compartment under the mat and pulled out a flat-blade screwdriver, her breaking-in implement of choice. If this didn’t work, she’d smash a window and gain entry that way, but she was pretty confident in her abilities, and rightly so; even after all these years, she still had the touch. A couple of artful prods and twists in the keyhole and there was a satisfying click. She gave the door a heavy push to open it and a rush of air came out at her with a sigh, as if it had been trapped and was thankful for its freedom.

She called hello, apology cued in her mouth just in case she’d been mistaken and there was someone within after all, but, not surprisingly, there was only silence and darkness to greet her.

Chapter 2

‘Is that the fastest the wipers will go? I can’t see the road and if I can’t, you can’t, which fills me full of confidence,’ said Charlie, for once not the happiest of passengers.

‘Yes, it is the fastest they will go, Charles,’ replied Robin, a pronounced and annoyed space between each word. Plus he only ever called Charlie ‘Charles’ when he was in a heightened state of emotion.

‘I’m only saying—’

‘Do you want to drive?’ Robin snapped. ‘I can stop the car and we can swap places. Or rather you can drive and I’ll get a taxi because your driving is bound to see at least one of us off before our time.’ He took a deep breath in an effort to deflate his rising temper. ‘Please sit back and let me handle the wheel and all the other instruments.’ He huffed, then restarted the argument. ‘The cheek of you, Charles Glaser. How long have I been your chauffeur? How many crashes have I had? Speeding tickets, parking fines? Not one. I wish this car had an ejector seat sometimes. I’d press it and gladly see you blasted into orbit.’

A charged silence hung in the air for a few seconds and then both men burst out laughing. Life had always been too short for serious disagreements between them, but gentle squabbling was part of their relationship’s DNA and had been for the last thirty-two years. Thou shalt bicker to thy heart’s content was written into their constitutional ten commandments, along with Thou shalt not hold grudges and Thou shalt compromise wherever possible.

‘I can’t see a thing,’ conceded Robin. ‘This is total madness.’

‘Who’d have known this was going to happen?’ said Charlie.

‘The bloody meteorologists should have,’ replied Robin with more than a touch of impatience. ‘It’s the 1987 debacle all over again. How come they can send people to the moon but they can’t predict this?’ He threw one hand up, and then quickly replaced it on the wheel as the car threatened a rogue skid.

Charlie cleared his throat before speaking next. ‘It’s probably not the time to tell you that there’s none in Scotland.’

‘None of what?’

‘Snow.’

Robin’s grip of the steering wheel increased as if he was holding on to something that might stop him falling off the edge of the world. He really hoped he’d heard Charlie wrong.

‘Please tell me you’re joking.’

‘I’m not.’

Robin’s neck started to mottle red, Charlie noticed. This usually signified his partner was about