‘After that.’ Lisaglared at Luke urging him to think, as if the answer was obvious.
He looked at her blankly.
‘Build a snowman!’
‘When we were twelve!’ Luke mocked, sitting back and drinking his coffee.
‘OK, point taken.’ Lisa poked her tongue out at him. ‘But, on the way here and looking out now, I’ve not seen a single snowman. That’s weird, isn’t it? There must be plenty of childrenround here. Do you think it’s a French thing?’
‘I don’t know, maybe it’s more of an in-town rather than on-a-mountain thing, or a “why build a snowman when you can ski, sledge and snowshoe?” kind of thing,’ Luke joked, looking out across the village below, registering the lack of snowmen for the first time.
‘Well, I think it’s a shame; it’s Christmas, there’s snow and not a singlesnowman in sight,’ Lisa harrumphed back and sipped her coffee.
‘Well, let’s do it. Let’s show them how it’s done.’
Lisa raised her eyebrows. ‘I think Mum would kill us if we messed up her picture perfect garden.’
‘Oh, there’ll be more snow to cover it. Come on, let’s do it.’
‘Luke, it was just a silly observation.’
‘Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?Christ, if I’m willing to wrap up and go for it so you can have your bloody snowman, the least you can do is join in. Come on… it’s Christmas and all that,’ he mocked.
Lisa had stopped listening after the ‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’ He was trying to reel her in, she knew it, but he was using bait she found hard to resist. ‘I do have a sense of adventure.’
‘I know. I remember.’
‘Remember?’ Lisa’s eyes went wide.
‘Yeah, when you used to be fun.’
‘Used to be?’ Lisa leapt off the sofa, putting her coffee mug down more forcefully than she intended. ‘I’ll build a bloody snowman with you,’ she huffed.
Luke laughed.
Lisa marched to her room to find warm clothes suitable for snowman building.Tell me I’ve lost my sense of adventure!
After the two of them had built the biggest snowman they could out of the slightly-too-powdery snow – that perhaps explained the lack of snowmen – created snow angels – or at least Lisa had while Luke threw snow at her – and were midway through a full-on snowball fight, their mum appeared carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. She raised her eyebrows at them, as they each dropped the fistfulsof snow they were holding. They were both nearer thirty than thirteen, but a reproachful look from their mum could reduce them to teenagers.
‘Well, you can take the children out of England…’ was all she said as she deposited the mugs of hot chocolate into their hands, turned and went back inside.
Luke and Lisa looked at each other and burst into peals of laughter.
‘I thinkit might be warmer out here than inside for a bit,’ Luke shuddered.
Christmas Eve started with an early ski and a soak in the hot tub. Even though she had stuck to the more-picturesque green runs, instead of joining Luke on the blue and black runs, Lisa’s muscles felt sore; she really needed to exercise more regularly. Within five minutes of winding down in the stiff-muscle-relieving water,Lisa felt that lazing in a hot tub surrounded by mountains, snow and clear blue skies took relaxation to a whole new level. Sitting in the steaming water, with snow all around her and being stared at by a snowman, was a wonderful and yet surreal experience – the view contrasted with the heat on her skin to create an exhilarating assault on her senses. A fresh dump of snow had hidden the ‘mess’,as her mum called it, that she and Luke had made of the garden; though even her mum had to admit, now that the snowman was surrounded by fresh snow he added a touch of magic to the perfect Christmas scene. Lisa teased Luke for keeping his black T-shirt on, while he did his best to convince everyone he was warmer that way. It made no sense, but their mum seemed to buy it.
While her mumstarted work on the magret de canard aux cranberries she had chosen for their evening meal, Lisa decided to phone Felicity. She was missing her and thought how lovely it must be to have four children on Christmas Eve; in a house so full, the excitement must be palpable.
‘Don’t eat raw pastry!’
Lisa looked at her phone. ‘I’m not!’
‘Not you; we are making mince pies for Santaand Fred seems to think it’s OK to eat everything in sight. I told you Santa won’t want them after you’ve nibbled them and then he might not leave any presents. Fred, I can see you putting that pastry in your pocket!’
Lisa laughed. ‘Shall I call back later?’
‘No, now’s fine; hold on.’
