Page 15 of Break the Ice

‘Were you that loud bang I heard five minutes ago?’

I nod. ‘Yes, you don’t happen to be a fully trained mechanic, do you?’ He shakes his head and I stand there thinking about why and how I am going to do this. Could I get on YouTube and fix it myself? There is no way I am going to find a garage open on Christmas Eve. I let out a little primal scream and watch as Joshua flinches back in horror.

‘Could I make you a cup of tea while you…’

‘Have a festive meltdown?’ I say. He shrugs his shoulders and walks towards the kitchen, doing a farmer’s-style whistling sound and patting his thigh while the dog follows him. I have to get that dog to Devon. How the hell am I going to do this? I am resourceful. I rub at my temples and make my way into my sister’s kitchen, and watch as Joshua feeds the dog bacon.

‘That’s why he followed you so willingly,’ I say, watching them together.

‘Dogs like bacon, that’s all I know.’

‘Do you have a dog?’ I ask him.

‘My mom has a Boston terrier.’

I watch him switch the kettle on, get out two mugs and put them on the counter. He does have a lot of food. I help myself to a roast potato and two Percy Pigs. He watches me steal his food, looking annoyed I didn’t ask permission.

‘Why do you have so much mashed potato here?’ I ask him.

‘It’s my favourite Christmas food.’

That’s weird. So many things you can have at Christmas and he goes for the one thing you could eat any day of the year. That tells me everything I need to know about him. That said, he’s making me tea and this house is warm at least while I try to find a fix for this situation. I sit down at the counter. Trains. I may have to hide the dog in a bag and sit by the toilets for a couple of hours, but that’s doable. I log on to the rail app. Everything is cancelled because of the snow. Great.

‘Maybe you could get an Uber?’ Josh suggests, peering over my shoulder. ‘The bus?’ I watch as he makes the tea and puts the milk in last. He’s been taught well at least.

‘I can’t take a dog on the coach. Unless I pretend to be blind, but that would be…’

‘Unethical,’ he says.

‘You are correct.’ Mr Goody-Two-Shoes. I try a couple of car hire sites, but there’s nothing available unless I can get to Heathrow or Slough. Not likely. ‘I may have to hitchhike at this rate,’ I say, still scrolling through my phone.

‘I don’t see a lot of you Brits doing that, by the way. The hitchhiking,’ he says, stirring the tea and pushing the mug in front of me.

‘It’s because it’s a surefire way to get picked up by a serial killer. You obviously don’t watch enough Criminal Minds.’ For some reason, this makes him laugh, but it’s not really that funny. It’s always the people who hitchhike and take the last subway on their own who come a cropper in these shows. I try to think of someone who owes me a favour.

‘So is the dog a gift for Freya and Skye?’ he asks.

‘You know my nieces?’ I ask him, still mildly surprised at how much this man knows about my family.

‘I had dinner here recently. We had lasagne. Did you know your sister makes her white sauce from scratch?’ I shift him a look. I don’t know how that is useful to me at the moment. He has a phone, he could be looking up Uber’s terms and conditions when it comes to dogs. ‘And then we made gingerbread houses. I think I have a picture.’

I’m not quite sure what this man is doing. Is it flirting? Is it banal chit-chat? Either way, he’s not very good at sensing my panic. I think I also might be jealous that I never got called over to make a gingerbread house. I was put to work like a minion, icing cookies for the PTA. ‘I don’t need to see a picture. I trust it was good wholesome fun,’ I say. He reads my sarcasm and goes quiet for a moment. I don’t like how awkward that makes me feel. ‘To answer your first question, yes, the dog is a gift.’

‘Where has he come from? What’s his breed?’ he asks, bending down again with more bacon.

‘A rescue centre. Look, I don’t know. I just picked him up. I’ve never had a dog. I don’t really know what I’m doing.’ I don’t know how to tell this random stranger that this is quite reflective of me and my life in general. It’s generally a perpetual state of winging it whenever something is thrown my way.

‘Bacon, walkies and hugs, that’s all dogs need,’ he says, and sits cross-legged on the floor, allowing the puppy to climb into his lap and make himself comfortable. I think he just mansplained a dog to me. ‘They’re good kids, your nieces.’ He points at a card on the counter. I’d know that penmanship anywhere.

‘They made that for you?’ I say, mildly surprised.

‘They did,’ he says, proudly.

‘Skye’s done a good job with your jug ears,’ I say. He reaches up self-consciously. I was joking. She sometimes draws me like I have plates for boobs. ‘But they are the very best of all the kids, ever. They deserve the world.’ I glance at their photo on the fridge. They are like little pieces of my heart and this puppy will make them so incredibly excited. I continue to pick at Josh’s food and I can tell he still has issues with this, which makes me dislike him. I’ll replace his bloody sweets if it’s an issue. However, I then notice something else on the kitchen counter. ‘Are those your keys?’

He catches me looking. ‘Yeah.’

‘You have a car.’