‘Thank you.’ She momentarily considered scraping off either the cream or the pink and white marshmallows but she decided to do neither. She was going to enjoy this, guilt-free.
‘So, Lydia. What would you like to know about me?’
She ignored the accidental brush of his knee against hers and moved back slightly, pretending to flip through her notes. ‘I guess a bit of background would be good. How you started skiing and when, what you like about it, how you got started with the charity side of things.’
Jonathan talked all about his skiing experience. He was taking time out from his job as an architect to travel, ski and teach in different parts of the world. He loved seeing new places, he liked to meet people, and teaching kids to ski was his favourite part. ‘Adults aren’t nearly as much fun,’ he quipped before telling her he’d never once been tempted to try snowboarding.
‘Do you ski?’ Jonathan asked.
‘I have, but I’m not passionate about it.’ Lydia had plenty of friends who loved both skiing and snowboarding and Theo had loved skiing in particular. Even Sally was into it and raved about Europe, but it was one of the only types of holiday she’d never managed to drag Lydia on, no matter how much she begged and pleaded. ‘It’s not my top choice of holiday, put it that way.’
With most of the information she needed, she relaxed into their chat, buzzing from the sugar-filled hot chocolate and the general atmosphere surrounding them. ‘Can I ask what made you want to get involved raising money for charities?’ This information would lay a good foundation for the article about this Somerset-born man who had raised more than fifty thousand pounds in the last eleven months, for so many good causes.
‘My nephew, Charlie, was the reason. He started skiing when he was six years old, he was brilliant.’
‘Kids have no fear, do they?’ Lydia remembered her own lessons and kids skiing past as though they’d been born to do the sport. There was no hesitation at the top of the slope, no dilly-dallying at making their way across to the lift that would take them up to do it all over again.
‘They certainly don’t,’ said Jonathan. ‘Charlie was an inspiration to us all, me included.’
‘Does he still ski?’ She scribbled some notes on her notepad.
‘He doesn’t.’ He looked sad. ‘Charlie is no longer with us.’ When she looked as though she didn’t quite understand he added, ‘Charlie was diagnosed with a rare form of leukaemia and died two years ago.’
Lydia heart bounced somewhere out of her chest, as though it had hurtled down the ski slope itself.
‘Charlie was the best kid.’ Jonathan looked out to the slope and the instructors already getting back into the regular day’s session with lessons. ‘He never moaned about what was happening. His concerns were for everyone else. It was heartbreaking to watch. He’d talked about the wish-granting charity and what he wanted to wish for, but everything happened so damn quickly he never got a chance. When he was taken from us, I came across a newspaper article about kids who had been granted wishes and, of course, the fundraising efforts involved, and I read about how one dad frequently ran sports events at the local footy club to raise money. I decided I wanted to do something similar.
‘You know, there’s never a time when I ski and don’t think of him.’ As though suddenly remembering this virtual stranger by his side, he turned to Lydia. ‘God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lay all that on you. Oh, and I should probably say all that is largely off the record. Reduce the amount I said, don’t mention Charlie by name.’
She scribbled out the name on her notepad. ‘Done.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He looked down at his hands resting in his lap. ‘It’s just that the last thing I need is to read about Charlie, or for my family to see the article. I guess it’s my way of coping, treasuring the memories inside my head and within our family, not putting them out in the open.’
‘Jonathan, don’t worry.’ Her mind was in overdrive. ‘I’ll email you the article first. It’s not strictly a done thing, but I want to get it right. So I’ll add something in and you can approve it first.’
He looked at her with more meaning than she’d thought possible in a man she’d known less than a few hours. ‘Thank you, Lydia.’
When he kept his gaze fixed on her, it wasn’t his face she saw but Theo’s. ‘I have to go.’ She stood up abruptly. ‘Deadline,’ she stammered.
‘Nice meeting you.’ He called after her, probably bewildered at her sudden departure.
She turned back briefly and waved. But she couldn’t get out of there fast enough and it was only out in the car park, in the freezing cold December air, that she was able to breathe again.
