with just the sound of our feet crunching beneath us and the sight of our breath in front of us, neither knowing what to say nor feeling the need to make idle conversation. Mabel wanted us to have fun, yes, but Aidan so far seems as much fun as a funeral in my opinion. He has barely cracked a smile, never mind laughed at anything since we first met yesterday.
When we get as far as Ben, who is standing by the gate that leads to the mysterious wood, my son looks like he is fit to burst with excitement at our unexpected company.
‘Aidan, this is my son Ben, who was afraid of freezing solid the higher we climb this hill but who now thinks this is a much better idea than I do,’ I say when the three of us merge on the brow of the steep field. ‘Ben, this is Aidan Murphy, Mabel’s nephew who you’ve heard so much about. Aidan is visiting for a while from America.’
Ben extends a small red woolly gloved hand which makes me glow inside, and he politely shakes Aidan’s hand.
‘I think we may have got off on the wrong foot, Ben,’ says Aidan. ‘In fact, maybe we all did. I’m sorry if I frightened you yesterday. Pleased to meet you.’
‘Pleased to meet you too, Aidan,’ he says, looking up at him in awe. ‘Is it true you really have your own helicopter?’
And at that my inner pride takes a swift downward dip, especially when I see the surprise on Aidan’s face.
‘Ben!’ I say. I look back down the hilly field, which from what I can see is full of bumps and holes, and my former enthusiasm to do this is quickly waning by the second, in contrast to Ben’s mounting excitement.
‘This is going to be so cool!’ says Ben. ‘Is that the sledge that was at the back of Mabel’s shed? I saw it in there. I’m sure I did.’
Aidan pats the wooden sledge and then flips it over, examining it in great detail.
‘It is actually,’ he says to Ben. ‘It was mine when I was a kid, but I haven’t been up here with it in over, I’m guessing, around twenty-five years.’
No harm to Aidan and his touching moment of nostalgia, or the fact that this was all my idea in the first place, I’ve now decided there’s no way I’m sailing down the hill on a lump of wood or plastic that could land me God knows where.
‘Who did you come up here with?’ asks Ben. ‘Did you have a brother? I wish I had a brother.’
I roll my eyes in apology at my son’s inquisitive nature, but Aidan is all ears, and to be honest I’m shocked that he has broken his silence. Maybe coming here was a good idea for that reason only, even if I fear for my life at the prospect of flying down the hill in the snow.
‘I wasn’t lucky enough to have a brother or sister, but I always wanted one,’ Aidan says to Ben, crouching down so he is around Ben’s height. ‘I’d come here with my dad and I noticed just today that he’d written our names on the back. I’d no idea he ever did that.’
He flips over the sledge again, and I see his father’s name, Danny Murphy, and the date ‘Winter 1990’ written in black marker on the back.
‘My daddy is in heaven,’ says Ben. I close my eyes briefly. ‘He went there when I was six but I’m ten now.’
When I open my eyes, I see that Aidan has placed his hand tenderly on Ben’s shoulder.
‘I’m really sorry to hear that,’ he says to my son. ‘But can you imagine the fun he is having up there now that Mabel is in heaven too? I bet they’re having a great party and they’ll be watching over us today having fun in the snow.’
I gulp and have to look away, realizing that Aidan and my son have a lot more in common than I would ever have imagined. They both suffered the loss of their dad at an incredibly young age, and witnessing this very unexpected moment between them chokes me up inside.
Ben nods and plonks down onto his sledge, ready for action, his cheeks rosy from the cold and his eyes sparkling in anticipation.
I meet Aidan’s eye and blink a thank you to him for being so compassionate with my boy, trying as I do to recall the story