I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day - Milly Johnson Page 0,26

cold and frosty Yorkshire moors. And that was Perry Como with “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas”, because it is, isn’t it?’

‘I see he hasn’t found his teeth yet,’ said Bridge.

‘Shh,’ said Luke, holding a shushing finger up against his mouth.

‘The news on the street is that severe weather warnings have been issued. More snow on the way. Stay indoors and I hope you’ve got enough milk and bread because the temperatures are recorded in this area as minus ten, so that would indicate the snow is going nowhere fast. And here’s Dean “little ole wine drinker” Martin with “Let It Snow”.’

‘The weather outside is indeed incredibly frightful,’ said Jack with a growl, checking his watch. He should have been in Tynehall now, presenting his case on why Chikafuji Incorporated and Butterly’s scones should be married in fruitful union before a speedy drive back to the office for a debrief working lunch with the heads of finance and marketing. The office would be closing early, but he’d stay on for longer. There was nothing to rush home for. No one to rush home for.

‘Beautiful though, isn’t it?’ said Luke, taking up Robin’s default position by the window. ‘Spectacular, even. Like a postcard. So long as our loved ones know we’re safe and there’s nothing we can do about the situation… we might as well just relax into it.’

He felt able to do that because he’d managed to get in touch with Carmen before all the mobile networks crashed and burned yesterday, though he’d lied slightly to save her worrying about him and told her that he was ‘only around the corner’ from the meeting place. The relief in her voice was palpable and warmed him right through. Her sister and parents had come over for Christmas, so she wasn’t rattling around in their large house alone. She was safe, protected by them but he wished it was him who was protecting her instead.

Bridge went over to him at the window as behind her Charlie and Jack started up their own conversation about scones.

‘Does Carmen know you’re okay?’

‘I hope so. I told her I was almost here and I promised I’d stay put until it cleared if the weather got worse. She wouldn’t want me to take chances.’

‘And where does she think you were driving to?’ asked Bridge, her interest piqued.

‘If you’re asking did I tell her I was coming to meet my wife then yes, she knows where I was driving to.’ A smile.

‘Really?’ Bridge seemed surprised by that.

‘Yes, really. We have no trust issues.’ As soon as he said it, he realised he might as well have given Bridge a sucker punch to her kidney. ‘Did you tell your fiancé you were meeting your husband?’

‘Of course I did. Ben doesn’t see you as a threat.’

‘Touché.’

‘It’s not as if anything’s going to happen between us because we’ll be in each other’s company longer than planned. We’re history. Ancient history,’ said Bridge, sounding more sure than she felt.

‘Totally in the past. Dead in the water,’ Luke appended, feeling that somehow he had slid back years, was returning to getting-the-last-word-in territory. A treacherous landscape he never wanted to venture near again. ‘…Hence why I’m glad we managed, against the odds, to meet up. I thought it was best we finalise things between us before the year ends, leave no threads hanging…’

‘…to be retied.’ Bridge’s brain ended his sentence for him. A ridiculous thing for it to think.

‘Well, I thought exactly the same. Which is why I suggested it and—’

Luke interrupted her. ‘I asked for the meet, Bridge. Before you.’

‘I don’t think you did. If I check my diary I—’

‘Look…’ Luke held his hands out, palms flat as if pushing a fast-sprouting argument away. ‘Let’s not bicker and fall into our tried and tested bad habits. Whatever the truth, we both want the same. I don’t want anything from you, you don’t want anything from me and now that… Sabrina’s… gone, there’s nothing that we need to argue about any more, is there?’

His voice faltered on the name; it was still wrapped up in raw grief for him.

‘Yes,’ the word softly spoken by Bridge. Sabrina, their beautiful Belgian Malinois dog, who loved them equally. They’d shared custody of her, a month at each house. She’d been at Bridge’s when she died, in her sleep. A massive heart attack, the vet diagnosed. That it would have been quick was of no comfort, neither was her ‘good innings’ age of fifteen. They’d adopted