The weather threw everyone into a spin for Jane’s wedding. Since Christmas the snow had been relentless. Roads were closed, gritters were out every night but could barely keep up. The planes were grounded. The snow was like white fog coming down thicker everyday. The forecasters announced the worst hadn’t hit yet, citing New Year’s Eve as the real snow day and people started crying off from the wedding, nervous to make the journey.
Hannah had arrived the previous evening with the outfit and stayed the night at Emily’s, not wanting to risk the possibility of getting stuck in the massive snowstorm they predicted. Jemima had gone to Dylan’s for the weekend. He had a huge aversion to the commercialisation of New Year and spent every one at home in front of the fire watching movies and playing board games. It was Jemima’s idea of heaven. Especially as Robyn was going as well and would French plait her hair and give her a manicure.
But as it happened, the morning of New Year’s Eve the snow stopped. Took a little pause to allow Jane and William to get married. Half the guests still didn’t make it to the ceremony because of the snow already on the roads, but they did start to arrive in dribs and drabs at The Duck and Cherry for the reception.
William was obviously a little disappointed and kept looking out the mullioned windows, saying things like, ‘It never snows in England. Or hardly ever. Never bloody snowed when I was a kid. Why does it have to snow now? On our wedding day?’ Jane, however, who’d been quite keen on a really small do, was secretly quite pleased. Everyone from Cherry Pie Island had made it and they were her best friends, so she didn’t mind at all.
The pub itself was lovely. There was a fire going to warm up damp guests who’d trudged through the snow in their finery and Barney the landlord had heated up some mulled wine and spiced cider. There were little canapés for starters, to be followed by a big roast dinner later in the evening.
Hannah was standing with Annie, Matt, Holly and Wilf who were admiring Jane’s outfit while Hannah was scrutinising it for faults – checking that it draped perfectly from every angle. Jane had forgone a dress in favour of a cream silk pantsuit that nipped in low on the hips and had slouchy trousers that tapered in at the ankle, all cool and relaxed. The fabric was Jane’s – hand-printed with pale-silver feathers that fell like snow on the watery silk and caught the light, iridescent like fishes, as she moved. They all agreed she had never looked more beautiful. But it was just as they were pointing out the red sparkling cherries that sat on the toes of Jane’s silver stilettos – a homage to the island – that the lights flickered, buzzed and then everything went dark except the red glow from the fire.
‘Shit,’ said Matt.
‘Don’t worry, chaps,’ Barney shouted. ‘Just a power cut. I’ll get some candles. Hold tight.’
‘Do you think the whole island’s down?’ asked Annie.
Matt went over to the window to peer out. ‘Looks like it. Streetlights are out.’
Hannah saw Emily creep up behind Annie and prod her in the back making her jump. Then she laughed and said, ‘It’s spooky, isn’t it?’
Annie sighed at her.
Barney came back out with an armful of candles and a flickering storm lantern. ‘Here, we’ll get these lit, no problem. All very romantic.’
And he was right. The little pub twinkled in the candlelight, catching the white snow on the windows. The island generator kicked in to light the streetlights so from the opposite bank, still completely without power, they were like one of the model Christmas scenes lit up in shop windows. A pocket of light in the otherwise pitch darkness.
Jane and William were chatting to the few guests still arriving. Thanking them for making it against the odds and ushering them to the fireplace where the pot of cider was being kept warm.
Out the corner of her eye Hannah saw Barney beckoning over to her and Emily. She nudged Emily and, along with Annie, they went over to the kitchen door where Barney had pointed once he’d got their attention.
The kitchen was lit by one lonely little candle.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Emily.
‘There’s no bloody food,’ said Barney. ‘The oven won’t work.’
‘Oh shit, yeah,’ said Annie. ‘Of course the oven won’t work.’
‘Have you got gas?’ Hannah asked.
Barney nodded.
‘Can you fry it?’ said Emily.
‘Roast chicken?’ Barney scoffed. ‘I don’t think so. And there’s all the potatoes.’
‘Well what are we going to do?’ asked Emily, glancing round at the other two. ‘We have to have food. We can’t starve.’
‘You’re not going to starve, Emily.’ Annie rolled her eyes.
‘Well I’m hungry now so I can’t imagine what I’m going to be like later.’
‘I’ve got a barbecue out the back,’ said Barney with a shrug of one shoulder. ‘Best I can offer under the circumstances. Could make it quite nice. Candles, blankets. Light a bonfire if you want.’
‘Oh you old romantic, Barney,’ Emily said with a laugh.
Barney blushed.
‘God if only Harry was here,’ Hannah said, imagining the whole thing being turned into some gastronomic barbecue feast.
‘If only Harry was here, what?’ said a voice from behind her.
‘Harry!’ They all spun round to see Harry standing in the doorway of the kitchen, dressed in black jeans and a jumper and his hair all a mess.
‘What are you doing here?’ Emily asked.
‘Well I was meant to be here bloody ages ago but all that bloody snow…’ He paused, shaking his head as if the memory of getting there was too hideous to recall.
Hannah’s whole body felt frozen to the spot at the sight of him. Her brain reeling through every possible reason why he was here. ‘I thought you said you weren’t invited,’ she said.
‘I’m not,’ he said, looking straight at her and only at her.
Emily clapped her hands together and said, ‘Well it’s brilliant that you are here. Completely fortuitous. You can cook! We’re firing up the barbecue.’
Harry glanced at her and nodded, but seemed like there was something else he wanted to do first – not expecting or having planned for this cooking curveball.
Wilf appeared next and surveyed the scene before clocking Harry. ‘Blimey, Harry. You’re the last person I expected to see. Aren’t you meant to be in LA?’
Hannah took a step back away from the group – it was all too confusing.
Wilf shrugged as if he didn’t really need an answer from Harry and said, ‘What are you all doing in the kitchen?’
‘There’s no oven. We’re going to get the barbecue going. Harry’s going to cook,’ said Emily.
‘Bloody marvellous,’ said Wilf, slinging his arm over Harry’s shoulder. ‘Good to see you, old chap. Good Christmas? Snow’s been a shocker in New York I heard. Lead the way, Barney, let’s take this outside.’
Everyone started to move towards the back door that led into the garden.
‘No, wait!’ Harry held his hands up, shrugging Wilf’s arm off his shoulders. ‘Wait! I’ve been on three planes to get here. Two buses. I’ve slept on an airport floor. I left my house three days ago. I will cook for you but there’s something I need to do first. OK? So just give me a second.’
Wilf looked blank but Emily giggled and pushed him and Barney out the door, closely followed by Annie.
Hannah stayed where she was, next to the one candle.
Harry ran his hand through his dishevelled hair. ‘Sorry,’ he said.
Hannah smiled. ‘What for?’
‘I look like shit.’
‘You look fine.’
‘You look stunning,’ he said. Then paused. Then added, ‘Perfect.’
Hannah was finding it difficult to breathe. ‘What are you doing here, Harry?’ she asked.
‘I realised that I had been unstuck.’
‘What?’
‘I was set in my ways. And every time I was with you I found myself having to justify my set ways in my head. And I realised that that was because they were becoming unstuck.’ He held his hands wide as if the idea had been staring him in the face and was now completely obvious. ‘Hannah, I didn’t ever want any of the stuff I said I didn’t want – the being relied on and having to be somewhere, the responsibilities.’ He started to walk closer towards her. ‘Because really I’d never met anyone to want it with. I liked just being me. But…’ Harry scratched his head. ‘I had this all planned out and now I feel like I’m garbling. Did you have a good Christmas? How’s Jane’s dress? I think I saw it on my way in…’
Hannah laughed, almost out of nervousness. Apprehension. ‘I had a lovely Christmas, thank you. You?’ She felt strangely giddy, like her heart was going so fast there wasn’t enough oxygen to her brain.
Harry bit down on his lip and frowned. ‘I had the Christmas I’ve always ever wanted. That’s the problem. That’s why I’m here.’
Hannah didn’t know what that meant. Couldn’t fathom if what had started as a good thing, a possibly amazing thing, was about to turn bad. ‘That’s why you’re here? To tell me that?’
‘No.’ Harry shook his head. Hannah held her breath. She watched him run his hand through his hair and it stay back from his face, held back with dirt. ‘To tell you that I got everything I wanted and all I wanted to do when I got it was tell you about it.’ He laughed.
Hannah did a little laugh, too. Still nervous. Heart still thumping. Still not quite sure. Still teetering on the hope that what was happening was going to be what she wanted to happen.
‘The life I wanted, Hannah, is suddenly starting to feel a bit lonely, because there’s suddenly someone that I would rather be with than just me. And that’s what I never factored into the whole not wanting it thing. I’m ready for new traditions. For new family. I don’t want what I have. I want what you have. You.’ He paused. Swallowed. Then said, ‘If it’s possible, I want a family built our way.’
Hannah thought she might be about to cry. So instead she focused on her arms. Crossing them in front of her and then uncrossing them again and then not quite knowing what to do with them so leaning against the counter with the candle on it.
‘I want to need you, Hannah,’ Harry went on. ‘I quite like the idea of it. No, scrap that. I love the idea.’
Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. All she wanted to do was march over to him and throw her arms around his neck but she knew there were still so many other factors. That just because they might both want something didn’t mean it could happen. And she couldn’t bear the idea of finally having this and it disappearing just as quickly. ‘What about California?’ she asked, the candle flame flickering with the words.
‘I realised that sometimes the best decision isn’t the right decision,’ Harry said, taking a step closer.
The answer caught her by surprise. She looked up at him, the beginnings of a smile hovering shyly on her lips. ‘What’s the right decision?’
‘Well, I’m thinking The Bonfire in London,’ he said, then he looked around at the little pub and added, ‘Or maybe The Bonfire on Cherry Pie Island.’ He took another step forward so he was practically level with her and said, ‘And I would like to ask you on a date.’
‘You would?’ she said, feeling her smile take hold.
He nodded. ‘Would you like to go on a date with me, Hannah?’
She was beaming now. Her smile as wide as her cheeks would allow. She moved closer, just a whisper between them, and looked down at her fingers tracing towards his on the metal counter. When she looked up his eyes were dancing with mischief and delight. ‘I would love to go on a date with you, Harry.’
‘Any chance you would you like our first date to be barbecuing in the snow?’ he asked, and she felt the warmth of his arms as they snaked around her waist.
Hannah laughed. ‘I would like that very much.’
‘That’s good,’ Harry said, dipping his head so that his lips were almost touching hers.
‘Isn’t it?’ she replied.
And then he kissed her.