‘I’m okay,’ he said, realising that he was. The sleepy feeling had gone, and his limbs no longer felt heavy. Between the electric storage heating, the fires they had lit, and the heat packs Jess had shoved into his armpits, he was finally feeling warm. He owed her his life, he realised. And instead of thanking her, he had snapped and been generally unfriendly.
‘I... Erm... Thank you,’ he said, not sure how else to say it other than just coming out and saying it.
She startled, sloshing hot chocolate into her saucer. ‘What for?’
‘For dragging me in here and warming me up. Y’know...saving my life.’
‘Oh, well. Having you die on me would have been really inconvenient.’
‘It’s a bit fuzzy, to be honest, but I have the feeling I wasn’t an easy patient.’
She laughed aloud at that, and he felt it in his gut as the smile reached her eyes.
‘You were an absolute pain in the butt. You were one grunt away from being dragged back out onto the doorstep.’
‘Like I said...thank you.’
‘Well, I guess I should thank you too,’ Jess said, ‘given that I was only ever Lara’s plus-one, and now she’s not here and you’re stuck with me. I’m not sure what I would have done if I’d been here on my own.’
‘You’ve decided I’m not a serial killer, then?’
‘I think you’d be too scared of what your mum would say.’
‘That’s fair, actually. She liked you.’
Jess frowned. ‘She hardly spoke to me.’
He shrugged. ‘She did. I could tell.’
‘I’m sorry you’re missing Christmas at home. Who else will be there?’
‘Mam. Dad. My brother and sister. Probably an elderly neighbour or some waif or stray. They tend to find someone.’
‘Sounds amazing,’ Jess said, looking sad.
* * *
It sounded like something she’d only seen in sentimental Christmas movies and supermarket adverts since Charlotte had died. But, from the unguardedly sappy look that Rufus was wearing, she knew that his family Christmas must be all that and more.
‘And you? Do you have other siblings?’
She shook her head. ‘It was just me and Charlotte. Now it’s just me. And Mum and Dad.’
‘That sounds...peaceful.’
‘It’s quiet. Not peaceful.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—’
‘No, it’s fine. There’s just an atmosphere,’ she said, wondering why she was spilling this to a virtual stranger. ‘They’re not very happy. But they pretend to be. At Christmas. For me. It’s worse.’ It was also the first time she had ever said that out lo
ud. Lara knew, of course, that she was always miserable at Christmas, but she didn’t think she’d ever spelt out exactly why—she had always just assumed that she was sad about Charlotte. And she was, of course, but there was more to it than that. And she had no idea why she was telling Rufus all this now, other than the fact that she was here, with him, at what had always been the hardest part of the year.
Maybe it was the fact that he was part of the reason she wouldn’t be home this year. Maybe it was seeing his mum on the phone. So happy and relaxed that it had thrown her situation into such stark contrast.
‘That sounds hard,’ Rufus said, his face serious. ‘A lot of pressure on you.’
‘It is what it is.’ She shrugged. ‘Though it’s fair to say being stuck here instead isn’t exactly the worst result I could have hoped for.’