I quicken my pace. ‘I thought your philosophy of life was to try everything once?’
‘To try some things once,’ he says. ‘And then to repeat the best of them as often as possible.’
‘Which is what we’re doing,’ I say. ‘You’ve never been up to the top of St Michael’s Hill. By the time you have, you’ll probably add it to your list of things you want to do repeatedly.’
He bends down to re-tie his shoelace. ‘I have snow coming in over the top of my boots. I somehow doubt that climbing a hill in the middle of nowhere on a freezing cold winter’s day will end up on my list of annual must dos. But you never know. I could be wrong.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ I encourage him. ‘Are your boots really not thick enough?’
He straightens up. ‘They’re fine. I’m being a wuss. My parents tell me that as a child I never walked anywhere without first ascertaining whether there was an alternative means of transport.’
‘Like the bus?’
‘Like being carried or sitting in my push chair,’ he says. ‘Mum says she was terrified I would insist on riding in that to my first day at school.’
‘I’d love to have seen that.’
‘I spared her that,’ he says. ‘My manly pride would never have coped with it. I got her to take me in the car instead.’
‘We don’t have a car or a pushchair,’ I say. ‘And I don’t have the faintest intention of carrying you. So, you’re on your own.’
‘The story of my life,’ he complains, quickening his pace to catch up with me.
We turn off the path and strike off across an expanse of snow.
‘The snow isn’t as thick as it looks,’ I say. ‘Can you see those tufts of grass peeping through? Follow those.’
‘I may not be country raised like you,’ he says, ‘but I’ve read plenty of books about this sort of thing. I think it’s all a trick, and you’re luring me off the path and into a swamp.’
‘Wouldn’t I get sucked into the swamp too?’ I ask.
‘You were raised in the countryside,’ he says. ‘You probably know all the secret routes, like in The Hound of the Baskervilles.’
‘With Cuthbert playing the part of the hound? I can’t quite see it.’
‘We can’t collect him for another two days,’ he says. ‘I’m not sure what he’ll do without me.’
‘If he’s anything like his master, he’ll probably be busy trashing my castle.’
He pokes a tuft of grass with his boot. ‘Seriously, are you sure this will take my weight?’
‘Perfectly sure. I’ve been coming up here all year round since I was a little girl.’
He moves closer to me. ‘Nevertheless, I’d feel an awful lot safer holding on to you.’
I hold out my hand. ‘Come on then. It’s less effort than carrying you.’
We pick our way across the patch of snow towards the path on the other side. At one point, I put my foot on a deceptively solid patch of snow, which gives way, and I disappear almost up to my thigh.
Alex reaches down and pulls me out. ‘I thought you knew every inch of this mountain?’
‘Every other inch,’ I say. ‘And it isn’t a mountain. It’s barely even a hill.’
‘A pretty big hill. Are you ok? You must be soaked.’
I brush the snow off my jeans. ‘Nothing to worry about. Unlike you, I laced my boots tightly enough that the snow didn’t go down them.’
He doesn’t take my hand again but instead slips his arm around my shoulders. I feel the warmth of his body against mine as I put my arm around his waist.