I opened my bedroom curtains on Sunday morning and took a step backwards. Wow! Complete whiteout. There’d been sporadic flutters of flakes across Saturday afternoon and into the evening but, looking at the front garden wall, roughly ten centimetres had settled overnight.
There was a knock on my door. ‘Are you decent?’ called Dave.
‘Yes. Come in.’ I smiled as the door opened and he stepped into the room with a mug of tea and a plate of toast.
‘I heard your alarm so I figured you were up. Have you seen the snow?’
‘I was just looking at it.’
‘I don’t think you’re going to make it up to the farm today.’
‘Why not?’
‘What do you drive?’
‘Oh gosh. I’m going to have to change my car, aren’t I?’ I absolutely loved my mint-green Fiat 500, even though Thomas used to take the mickey out of it and call it a Mint Imperial. It was going to be no good for bad winters in the Wolds, though. ‘Do you think I’ll need a van?’
Dave pondered for a moment. ‘I don’t think so. I’d suggest a 4x4 with decent boot space. You’re only going to be transporting a few hedgehogs around. They’re not exactly enormous.’
‘Maybe I can get one of those jeeps and be like the proper country set.’
‘Ooh. Wait here. We’ve got something for you. They arrived yesterday but I wanted Rich to see them before I gave them to you.’
Dave scooted out the room and thundered down the stairs. Moments later, he reappeared and handed me a large white box. ‘Consider it a housewarming gift. Perfect for joining the country set.’
I lifted the lid and grinned at the contents: a pair of wellington boots in a hedgehog design. ‘Aw. I love them. Thank you. You realise I’m going to need to test these. Let me get washed and dressed, then do you wanna build a snowman?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
Thirty minutes later, we stepped back to admire our efforts.
‘His body’s a bit wonky,’ Dave said. ‘Like a spud.’
‘Then we’ll have to call him Spud. It must be about fifteen years since I built a snowman.’
‘And were you always this bad at it?’
I gave him a playful shove. ‘If he’s rubbish, that’s your influence. I’ll have you know, my dad was a brilliant teacher. Our snowmen survived way longer than any of the others on the street.’
‘You didn’t build snowmen with Chloe, then?’ Dave adjusted Spud’s lopsided bobble hat.
‘Chloe was always more of an indoors person. She hated the snow. I don’t think she ever built a snowman, had a snowball fight or made snow angels.’
‘Seriously? That’s part of growing up.’ He pushed Spud’s carrot nose in a little further. ‘I take it you still haven’t heard from her?’
‘No, but somebody keeps calling me. They don’t speak but I’m certain it’s Chloe.’
‘What will you do if it is her and she wants to be friends again?’
‘I’ll be friends again.’
He frowned. ‘Really? Why?’
‘Because she’s my family.’
I shrugged as Dave raised his eyebrows.
‘There should probably be a better reason than that, shouldn’t there?’ I said. ‘Come on. I’m getting cold. It’s my turn to make you a drink.’
‘What was she like as a kid, then?’ Dave asked when I handed him a mug of coffee.
‘Chloe?’ I curled up on the other end of the sofa from him. ‘Cousin, sister and best friend rolled into one.’
‘I mean personality-wise. First three words that come into your head. Go!’
‘Fun, insecure, spoilt.’ I blew on my coffee. ‘That didn’t sound too good, did it?’
Dave gave me a weak smile, his eyes full of sympathy. ‘I don’t think anything about your relationship with her sounds too good. Look, it’s none of my business and I get that she’s family so it’s a little more complicated than your average toxic friendship but—’
‘You think our relationship’s toxic?’
‘From the snippets you’ve told me, yes. Sorry. Of course, I’ve only known you since she cut you off so it could—’ Dave’s phone rang, stopping him mid-flow. ‘It’s my mum.’
‘You get it. We’ll talk later.’ I took my coffee and headed up to my bedroom to give Dave some privacy.
It had started snowing again. The grass we’d exposed by rolling the balls for Spud’s head and body was no longer visible and the coating over Spud’s scarf made him look like he had an extreme case of dandruff. Wrapping my hands round my mug, I watched the snow, sipped on my drink, and considered what Dave had said about Chloe. Was he right? Did we have a toxic relationship? Obviously things were sour at the moment but had there always been problems?
Pulling out a plastic crate from under my bed, I lifted out a photo album. Dad had created it for me when I moved in with Harry. He’d had tears in his eyes as he handed it over, telling me that it was from him and Mum as a reminder of the first chapter in my life. I could tell from the disinterested look on Mum’s face that she’d had nothing to do with it.
I plumped my pillows, plonked myself down on my bed, and opened up the album. The first few pages were baby photos of me on my own, then with Chloe when she was born six months later in April. Baby photos became toddler photos, then first day at school, the pair of us standing outside the school gates in our grey pinafores and royal blue cardigans, holding hands. Christmases, birthdays, holidays… Nearly every photo included Chloe and every single one contained happy memories. The pair of us used to have such fun together. She made me laugh so much. I only had to flick through the photos to see that.
But there was no denying she was spoilt and it was mainly Mum who spoilt her. Auntie Louise and Uncle Simon’s income was tight so Mum would compensate by regularly buying Chloe gifts or, more often than that, giving her something that Dad had bought for me. The minute Chloe’s eyes lit up at the sight of a new doll or book or packet of pencil crayons, Mum would hand it over with a promise to buy me a replacement, which never materialised. If Dad bought me a dress, Mum would say how much prettier Chloe would look in it and it would disappear from my wardrobe. I told Dad I preferred jeans and T-shirts, convinced Chloe wouldn’t be as interested in them.
Every time Mum snapped at me or acted indifferently to a good grade from school or an award from any of my out of school clubs, Chloe would appear by my side with a smile and a hug and soon take my mind off it and I immediately forgave her for taking my things. After all, it wasn’t her fault. She never asked for them; Mum just gave them to her, setting an expectation that she could have whatever she wanted.
What else had I said to Dave? Insecure. Yes, she was extremely insecure and clingy. We’d barely been apart until university and Chloe worked herself up into an anxious state about me leaving, convinced I’d make loads of friends and no longer want her in my life. She insisted on joining Dad as he drove me to Liverpool and she clung onto me, sobbing, when it was time to leave me in my room in the halls of residence. She made me pinkie promise I’d never replace her as my best friend. I’d laughed and hugged her tightly, assuring her that she was irreplaceable but I remembered having to play down my friendship with Hannah because any mention of new friends seemed to upset her.
And nobody listened like Chloe. As teenagers, we’d walk up and down the beach for hours, talking about anything and everything. I was there to pick up the pieces after her many relationship disasters but she built me up again after it ended with Harry. She was the person I turned to when Mum hurt me and she always knew what to say to make me feel positive.
So, yes, she was spoilt but Mum had created that. She was insecure but that was a direct result of how others treated her. But she was so much fun and that was her through and through. That was the real Chloe. That was the person I loved and missed.