The First Christmas Without You

Michelle Betham

A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Michelle Betham

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

HarperImpulse an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

77–85 Fulham Palace Road

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013

Copyright © Michelle Betham 2013

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Michelle Betham asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International

and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

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Ebook Edition © December 2013

ISBN: 9780007562145

Version 2014-09-15

Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

To my wonderful husband – thank you. Without you I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this.

Chapter One

The harsh, north-east wind whistled through the gap underneath the door of my shop, and it was at that exact moment that I questioned my reasoning for booking a winter holiday somewhere even colder than the country I actually lived in.

‘You could’ve picked somewhere like Tenerife,’ Kat said, almost reading my mind as she settled herself down on the pale-green wicker chair beside the counter at the back of my small but cosy gift shop in the little north-east-English coastal town of Tynemouth. ‘Y’know, a country where you don’t have to put on three layers of clothes just to pop to the pub,’ she went on, picking up a packet of joss sticks from the shelf behind her and examining it closely. ‘I mean, why Lapland, Jess?’

I was actually quite tired of explaining exactly why I’d chosen Finnish Lapland to take my first holiday in a long time – my first holiday since the events of last Christmas that had seen my life change in an instant and my whole way of thinking about things turned completely on its head.

‘You know I’ve always wanted to go there, Kat.’ And I had. I just hadn’t expected it to be under these circumstances. ‘You know we’d both always wanted to go there.’

Kat frowned as she looked at me, accepting the cup of tea I held out to her, putting the joss sticks back down on the shelf.

I leant back against the counter and took a sip of tea, quickly glancing outside at the driving rain that was beating hard against the windows. Despite the wind whistling through the gap in my door it was still cosy and reasonably warm in my lovely little shop, the smell of incense and burning candles creating a wonderfully welcoming atmosphere. I loved my shop – Rainbows – smack bang in the village centre. I’d run it for over fifteen years now, and although it hadn’t exactly made me into anything even remotely resembling a millionaire, it gave me a comfortable and enjoyable way of earning an income. Selling everything from candles to home-crafted gifts, jewellery and cards, clothing and accessories, and even local souvenirs, it was my haven. My escape. Now more so than ever.

‘It’s Christmas, though, Jess.’ Kat’s voice broke into my thoughts, tearing me away from the memories I’d been about to dredge up all over again. ‘Don’t you want to spend Christmas with your mum and dad?’

I closed my eyes for a second, sighing probably a touch too heavily, but I really thought I’d explained this to everyone. Countless times. I thought they’d all got it by now.

‘Kat, believe me, I love them to bits, I really do. And I know they mean well, but, I just can’t do it. I need to get away, y’know? To sort things out in my own head without everybody else around me throwing in their own two-penny’s-worth. I think it’s about time I started doing that, don’t you?’

Kat sat forward in the chair, looking at me with those same concerned eyes that people had been looking at me with for the past twelve months. ‘Well, yeah, but… they’re just concerned, Jess. They’re worried about you. We all are.’

‘I’m forty-two years old, Kat. People seem to be forgetting that. And I really don’t need to be treated with kid gloves anymore, I’m fine now.’

Kat raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you?’

I really didn’t want to get into this conversation again. I’d been through it enough times, and that was the main reason I’d made the decision to spend Christmas somewhere completely different this year. Somewhere we’d always wanted to visit, a place we’d both wanted to experience; only now I was going to have to experience it alone – for the both of us.

‘You’ve still got time to change your mind,’ Kat persisted, sitting back and crossing her legs, still eyeing me with that concerned expression on her face. ‘Maybe delay your trip until after Christmas? I mean, I’m not denying that getting away from here for a while isn’t a good idea, but… You’re not going to change your mind, are you?’

I shook my head, quickly checking my watch. ‘Nope. I’m not going to change my mind. Come on, get a shift on, Katrina. I’ve got to lock up in half an hour and get packing. And there’s a lot to pack when you’re heading off to the Arctic Circle, believe me.’

Kat sighed, hauling herself up out of the chair. ‘Anyway, if you had to go away over Christmas, I don’t understand why you had to go with your brother and his mates. Why didn’t you ask me?’

I looked at Kat, half-smiling at her as I tidied up a tray of friendship bracelets I’d made that morning. ‘Seriously? You? In salopettes? And thermal underwear? Navigating your way around the ski slopes in snow boots and a thick padded anorak?’

‘I’m sure you can get some quite fashionable padded anoraks, if you look hard enough,’ Kat huffed, examining her nails.

I nudged her, smiling as she leant over and hugged me. She’d hugged me a lot over the past year, and every hug from my best friend still meant the world to me. I still needed all those hugs because, on the outside I might give the impression that everything was fine, but deep down inside I was still getting there. Slowly. I just didn’t want everyone else knowing it was taking this much time.

‘Look, Matt had already booked his skiing trip there, and he’s been before so, it just made sense to tag along. Especially as it’s somewhere we… I’ve always wanted to visit.’ Kat didn’t miss the look on my face as I quickly corrected myself, but I avoided her eyes. Now wasn’t the time to get into another deep conversation about how everyone around me still assumed I wasn’t coping. I was coping. In my own way. They just needed to let me get on with it.

I had thought about doing what Kat had suggested and leaving it until after Christmas to take my own trip to Lapland, but I was also big enough to realise that, although I might come across as somebody who could quite easily handle some time on her own, thanks to the vibes I’d been sending out for the past year, I probably was going to need some company at some point. Because this was Christmas. And Christmas wasn’t just any time of the year for me. It was a special time, a time I’d always loved, or it had been, until the events of last year. When Christmas changed forever for me. We’d always spent Christmas together, you see. Just the two of us, holed up in our little two-up two-down close to the sea front. Just the two of us. The way we’d always liked it. And this past year without him had been the hardest of my life. He’d been my world, my whole reason for existing. Oh, my life had been good before he’d walked into it, don’t get me wrong. He’d just made everything that much better, that’s all. I guess you could say he’d been the icing on the cake. He’d completed me. And not having him in my life anymore meant that, as far as I was concerned, Christmas had lost its appeal, it meant nothing now. And I just couldn’t do another Christmas at home without him. Another Christmas without icing…

Chapter Two

The second I laid eyes on Jase Collins, when he’d walked into my shop not long after it had opened, in the summer of 1998, looking for a scented candle for his mum’s birthday, I knew he was the man I was going to marry. I just knew it. With his torn jeans and loose-fitting Metallica t-shirt, messed-up, light-brown hair and beard, and the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen, it was as though I’d been waiting for him to walk into my life forever. There’d been an instant connection, something he’d felt too, and it had been the most incredible feeling. Like a bolt of electricity shooting right through me, making me sit up and take notice of a future that had just been laid out in front of me. As soon as he’d smiled, as soon as he’d started talking to me, as though we’d known each other all our lives and not just that second met, it felt as though I’d found the other half of me. He had the same laid-back attitude, the same morals and beliefs; the same taste in music, not to mention that hippie/rocker edge to him that I’d fallen in love with straight away. It had just felt so right. He’d felt right. Jase Collins. My life.

Our first date just two days later had been at a local pub to watch my brother Matt and my dad’s rock band play, and from that night onwards we’d become inseparable. We’d married a couple of years later in a small but beautiful ceremony attended by just a handful of family and close friends, bought our little house in the village of Tynemouth, and began the rest of our lives together. Jase had continued working in his surf shop down by the beach, and I’d carried on making and selling my jewellery and gifts. We’d never had all that much money, and life had been a struggle sometimes, but we’d had each other. We’d had the life we’d wanted, doing the things we’d wanted to do, and that had been more important to both of us than all the money in the world.

Jase had been my soulmate, simple as that. I can’t say we’d had the perfect marriage – we’d had our ups and downs, whose marriage didn’t? But they’d never lasted long because we were both people who believed in living each day as though it were the last; we’d believed in making the most of life, so stupid arguments and disagreements were always dealt with quickly and forgotten even quicker.

We’d been free spirits. Happy as long as there was food on the table and a roof over our heads. Jessie and Jase – just the two of us. And that’s the way it had been for over ten years. Until last Christmas, when he’d gone out with Matt and their friends, to a biker-friendly pub just outside of Northumberland for a mate’s birthday. Over the years, ever since Jase Collins had walked into my life, he and my brother had become really close friends. Best friends. With their shared love of surfing, motorbikes and rock music, they’d had a lot in common, and I’d never minded them spending time together. I’d loved seeing my brother and my husband so close. But I’d never been all that keen on Jase riding pillion on Matt’s Yamaha, even though Matt wasn’t some wet-behind-the-ears speed-freak. He’d been riding those things for years, both of them had, and it wasn’t the first time Jase had been out with him. But that night, something just hadn’t felt right.

I’d watched him from the living room doorway as he stood by the Christmas tree laughing with Matt, joking about something, and whatever it had been it had made Jase laugh out loud and I’d always remember how handsome he’d looked that night. How relaxed and happy and handsome. So I’d tried to push those niggling feelings to the back of my mind, even though they were constantly fighting to come to the forefront.

He’d kissed me goodnight, holding me close and making me smile with the things he’d whispered in my ear, things that I’ll never, ever forget because they were the last things he ever said to me. And I can only thank God that one of those things had been ‘I love you’ and I’d told him I loved him too, because he never came home. My beautiful husband died that night when a driver, who we later heard had been three times over the limit, had crashed into the bike as Matt and Jase had made their way home along a narrow country lane. They’d taken a short cut because Jase had wanted to get back to me, Matt had told me later at the hospital as he was treated for nothing but a fractured wrist and bruised ribs. Jase had missed me, and he’d wanted to get home before I went to bed because he’d just wanted to be with me. But fate had seen to it that he never arrived.

I said my last goodbye to him just two weeks before Christmas, but, as far as I was concerned, there was no Christmas anymore. Not without Jase. Oh, my family had been there with more support and love and strength than I could ever have asked for, but without Jase I could see nothing ahead of me. I could see nothing but a bleak and pointless future, the guilt of his death weighing heavily on my mind because I should have stopped him from going out that night. I should have stopped him; I should have told him what I was feeling. Because he trusted me, he would have listened. I know he would. But I’d let him go, knowing that something just didn’t feel right. I’d let him go, and that guilt had never gone away. Ever.

It had taken a good few months before I’d even attempted to start putting my life back together again after Jase had died. I’d thrown myself back into work at the shop, taking comfort from the warm surroundings I’d created and the people who came in to talk about Jase, because I’d needed to talk about him. I needed to feel as though he was still around, still a part of me, because it had scared me to think that I might forget anything of the life we’d had together, even one second of it. So I’d spent every day in the shop, and every night I’d go back to our cosy little home and relive every memory of my wonderful husband, replaying our life together over and over in my head until I could do nothing but cry myself to sleep. And every morning I’d wake up, and for a few seconds before I became completely lucid I’d be tricked into thinking that everything was fine, before, once again, being thrown back into a world of loss and loneliness when I realised that Jase wasn’t there. That he was never coming back.

But whilst friends and family saw my routine as something that wasn’t particularly healthy, I saw it as a way of keeping Jase alive, of keeping his memory vivid and clear so that I could still see him there when I closed my eyes, still remember everything about him. And although it may have been a year since he’d died now, I still needed to do that, still needed to have him with me, despite what everyone else was saying – that I should move on. What did that mean anyway? Did they mean I should find someone else? Fall in love again? That was never going to happen as far as I was concerned. Jase had been the love of my life, and I knew I could never love anyone else the way I’d loved him. I didn’t want to love anyone else; I was quite happy being alone – with my memories.

But I’d finally come to the conclusion that getting away from Tynemouth for a few days was a good thing. For almost twelve months I’d never really set foot outside of the town, preferring to stay in close proximity to my comfort zone. But, as another Christmas without Jase loomed, with only the prospect of days back home with my parents lying ahead of me, despite them being the best parents anyone could ask for, I’d had to do something. So, maybe making this effort, showing people that I was at least willing to try and move forward and get on with my life, perhaps that would make them back off slightly. And, in reality, maybe it really was time to try and move on. Even though that was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done, because I just didn’t know if I could do it without Jase.

Jase Collins. My husband. Now and forever. Always.

Chapter Three

I looked out of the window as the plane slowly made its descent into Kittila airport, snow falling from the already darkened sky even though it was only one-thirty in the afternoon. Craning my neck as the plane grew ever closer to the rapidly whitening runway, I was sure I could see ice forming on the wings but, thankfully, I had no time to inspect more closely as I was thrown back in my seat, the bumpy but otherwise perfect landing signalling our arrival into the Arctic Circle.

I closed my eyes for a second and exhaled. There was still a very small part of me that hoped that, when I opened them, I’d be back home in Tynemouth, sitting by my beautiful open fire listening to some old-school Stevie Nicks and wishing – wishing things were different. But they weren’t. And I was trying hard to get used to it, so I hoped this holiday might actually make that journey a little easier. Matt had certainly promised to help take my mind off things, although I doubted very much that a snowboarding lesson from a thirty-six-year-old rocker who was having trouble growing up was something that would suddenly help me turn my life around.

‘You okay, Jess?’ Matt’s voice broke into my thoughts and I looked at him. My baby brother. We’d always been close, but ever since Jase’s death we’d grown even closer. After all, Jase had been one of Matt’s closest friends, so losing him had been hard for the both of us. He’d just handled it a hell of a lot better than me.

‘I’m fine,’ I replied, squeezing his hand as the seatbelt signs clicked off and everyone began shuffling about, standing up and moving out into the narrow aisle to retrieve their luggage from the overhead lockers.

‘You sure?’ Matt asked, his blue eyes looking at me with that same concerned look that I was actually quite tired of seeing now. Yeah. It was definitely time to start pulling myself together and showing people that I didn’t need their sympathy anymore. I was strong. I could do this. I just wished I didn’t have to.

‘Matt, I’m fine, alright? Stop fussing. You’re as bad as Mum.’

‘I just care about you, Sis,’ he said, stuffing a copy of Kerrang! into his bag.

‘Yeah, I know you do,’ I sighed, wrapping my scarf tightly round my neck as the cabin doors were opened and a blast of ice-cold air surged through the plane’s interior, causing many of the passengers to gasp out loud at the freezing temperatures that were waiting for us all outside. But this was Christmas in Lapland – and it just wouldn’t be the same without the snow and the cold and the prospect of cosy nights in warm, wood-panelled bars and restaurants, would it? Suddenly, a small surge of excitement shot right through me, something I hadn’t felt in a long while. Maybe this holiday really would be the making of me. Maybe this was what I’d needed all along, a break from the memories and a past that people always told me was holding me back. Deep down I knew I didn’t have to stay locked inside some kind of bubble to remember Jase. He’d never leave me; I knew that. He’d always be there; he’d always be with me. I would never let the memory of him fade and I was sure, more than anything, that he wouldn’t want me to be sad. He’d want me to move on. He’d want me to be happy again. Isn’t that what people had been telling me for months now?

‘You’re smiling,’ Matt pointed out, edging his way into the narrow aisle as everyone began shuffling towards the exit.

‘So?’ I asked, following him out of our seats, pulling my hat down firmly onto my head as another blast of cold air swept through the plane.

‘Well, it’s just that smiling isn’t something I’ve seen you do all that much of lately, that’s all.’

I frowned. Had I really been that miserable? Had it really showed that much?

‘We’re gonna have a blast, Jess,’ Matt said, turning to me before we started filing down the steps that led us out into the dark and cold Lapland afternoon, the lights of the small terminal building right in front of us shining onto the tarmac. ‘I promise you that.’

I smiled at him again, burying my face into my scarf and shoving my hands in my pockets as the freezing air hit me, making me glad I’d decided to put those thermals on in the toilets half an hour ago when I had begun to feel the cold biting through the denim of my jeans.

We were going to have a blast. And there was a little part of me, somewhere, that was kind of looking forward to that. I had a good feeling about this place. I had a very good feeling.

Chapter Four

Finnish Lapland was certainly a shock to the system, weather-wise. I’d used to think the north-east of England was cold but compared to the temperatures we were experiencing here they were verging on tropical.

The hotel we were staying in was beautiful, so warm and welcoming with its mix of both traditional and contemporary styles. From the wood-panelled lobby to my beautifully simple but extremely comfortable and cosy room; from the choice of restaurants and the karaoke bar to the ultra-modern spa right next door, it had certainly surprised me. I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d been expecting, having never been to this part of the world before, but I guess I hadn’t been expecting quite this. Mind you, I should have known Matt would never come to a place where there might have been a chance of boredom setting in. And from what little I’d seen of the resort so far, it seemed to have more than its fair share of things to keep everyone occupied.

Looking out of the window I couldn’t help but smile at the view, a view that was never going to fail to remind me of exactly where I was – a blanket of snow covered everything in sight, from the barrage of trees that led out into a forest of pines which stretched out as far as the eye could see in one direction, to the Tyrolean-style buildings that made up the small and compact resort in the other. It was beautiful, and as I watched a line of cross-country skiers in the distance propel themselves through the trees, their poles working in almost perfect unison as they glided across the snow, I couldn’t help but wish Jase was here with me. Cross-country skiing was one of the things he’d wanted to try. It was just one of the many activities we’d talked about, when we’d discussed our plans to visit Lapland. Plans that had been years in the making. And we’d been so close to taking our dream trip together. So close. But now he’d never experience all those things he’d so badly wanted to try.

Being the kind of person Jase was, though, I knew he would have been out there before breakfast, donning those skis, throwing himself into everything with that incredible enthusiasm he’d always had for trying new things. An enthusiasm I was finding hard to muster myself.

A knock at the door pulled me back from sinking into another pit of memories.

‘Sis! It’s Matt!’

‘Come in. Door’s open.’ I turned away from the window, folding my arms against me as Matt walked in, dressed in full skiing regalia of black salopettes, jacket and snow boots, a black hat pulled down over his long, dark hair. ‘What you up to today then?’ I asked, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth.

He pulled a face and shut the door behind him, checking himself out in the full-length mirror beside the wardrobe. ‘Me, Jake and Gary are hitting the slopes in a bit. You coming?’ he asked, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his hair.

I eyed the hired ski boots I’d been fitted for when we’d arrived yesterday. They were sitting on top of the pile of skiwear I’d yet to try out.

‘I know you haven’t done this before, Sis, but me and the guys are quite happy to show you the ropes if you don’t feel like joining the ski school.’

Matt was right, I didn’t feel much like joining the ski school. But then, I didn’t feel much like skiing, full stop. I guess you had to be in the mood, and I wasn’t. Not really. Not yet.

I looked at my brother with his dark, shoulder-length straggly hair and his unkempt beard, and I was desperate for those blue eyes of his to stop looking at me with that hint of pity. Was that how people were going to look at me forever? Yeah, it was definitely time to pull myself together and show them that I really was fine. Even if I didn’t totally feel it. Yet.

‘I think I’m just going to spend today getting to know the place,’ I smiled, walking over to Matt. ‘Y’know, have a wander round the town, watch you lot out there on the slopes, check out the shops.’

‘Not sure Primark’s hit Lapland yet, Jess.’

‘Yeah, you’re funny, Matthew.’

He pulled me into his arms for a hug, sighing. ‘If you’re sure, Sis. But I hate leaving you on your own.’

‘It’s my choice, Matt. Come on, stop looking at me like that, will you? I’ll be fine. I’m forty-two years old, I’m not some child who needs looking after – despite what Mum says. Okay?’

He smiled, giving me one last hug. ‘Yeah. Okay. But if Mum asks, I did everything I could to make you come with us. Alright?’

I couldn’t help laughing. It was obvious Mum had given Matt strict instructions to keep an eye on me, which was fine. It was nothing I hadn’t expected because, despite our ages, we were quite clearly always going to be kids to our parents. But her concern was totally unnecessary. As was Matt’s. ‘Go on. Get out there and enjoy yourself. I really will be fine. In fact, I’m looking forward to exploring the place. It’s got a good feel about it.’

‘Look, meet us for drinks later, okay? There’s an après-ski bar – The Ice Tree – at the bottom of the slopes, just by the back of the spa. I’ll give you a call when we’re done and I’ll buy you a beer. How does that sound?’

‘That sounds great,’ I smiled, almost pushing him out the door. ‘Now get out of here. I’ll see you later.’

I closed the door and walked back into the room, crouching down beside my half-unpacked suitcase, reaching into a side compartment and pulling out a framed photograph – of Jase and me, at Glastonbury a few years ago. It was a photo I loved because we both looked so happy, and we had been. Incredibly so. I remembered everything about that trip, every conversation we’d had, every band we’d seen, every song we’d sung along to. Since he’d been gone I’d made it my mission to remember it all, letting no memory become blurred or weak or fade into the background. Especially now, at Christmas. A time when those no longer here were probably missed more than at any other time of the year, and for me it was a time when I missed Jase more than I could ever explain to anyone.

I stood the photograph up on the bedside table and pulled myself back up, eyeing the pile of clothes stacked neatly on the floor – the padded jacket, the snow trousers; the pair of pink boots I’d bought on the spur of the moment on a shopping trip to Newcastle just before we’d flown out here. I might not be donning the salopettes and ski boots today, but this was Lapland, and the last time I’d checked the temperature outside it was hitting -25 degrees, so if I was even thinking about leaving this hotel then those layers had to go on. Pushing a hand through my hair, I leant over to pick up my clothes, and proceeded to get ready for my day of exploring my temporary new home.

*

It didn’t take long to walk into the small and compact resort, which was just across the road from our hotel. But even before I’d hit the main town centre it felt like I was being thrust into a Christmas wonderland, with huge pine trees strewn with fairy lights on almost every corner, and a multitude of decorations strung up outside every building, giving nobody any excuse not to realise what time of year it was. From reindeers to Santa Claus, singing angels to beautifully elaborate nativity scenes – walking along the snow-covered streets that wound their way through the maze of restaurants, bars and shops felt like escaping into a Christmas you only ever really saw in movies or on TV, and it was making me feel something I hadn’t felt in such a long time. It was making me feel that maybe I could enjoy Christmas again, if I let myself. Even if Jase wasn’t here to share all of it with me. Because this kind of Christmas was something else, made all the more magical by the beautiful, rose-coloured sky that was giving out a kind of surreal half-light against the barrage of decorations and fairy lights that lit up the resort.

With only an average of about three hours’ sunlight a day at this time of year in the Arctic Circle, spending most of the time in darkness was the weirdest thing to get used to, but I also knew that there were days when the sun didn’t rise at all, creating this half-light effect which, I had to admit, was quite stunning to witness.

As I reached the main plaza in the heart of the town centre, I stopped by one of the huge Christmas trees with its array of blue and white lights already twinkling in that strange half-light, and felt inside my jacket to retrieve my camera, quickly capturing a few shots before hurriedly sliding the camera back inside my jacket pocket before it froze. And although it was -25 degrees, I actually felt quite cosy wrapped up in my abundance of layers. But, having taken off a glove for a matter of seconds in order to take the photographs, I knew that without the layers it would be a very different story.

Overhead, the sky was the most incredible colour – a mixture of pink and orange streaks and, even though it wasn’t even lunchtime yet, I could see it wouldn’t be long before the early dusk arrived and this beautiful little place was bathed in that daytime darkness once again. This was so, so different to anything I’d ever experienced. I’d never seen anything like it and I actually found it quite mesmerising, just standing there, looking up at the sky, watching as it changed before my eyes, creating layer upon layer of colours from orange to pink to brown.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

I spun round to see a tall young man standing beside me, dressed all in black from his hat to his snow boots. Where had he come from? I hadn’t even heard him walk up alongside me. Maybe I’d just been too deep in thought. And my hat was pulled right down over my ears so it probably wasn’t a complete surprise that I hadn’t heard him arrive.

‘Yes. Yes, it’s really beautiful,’ I said, watching him as he gazed up at the rapidly darkening sky, the colours deepening but still swirling around over our heads.

‘If you think this is something, then you should see the Northern Lights – Aurora Borealis…’ He stopped staring at the sky and looked directly at me, which took me slightly by surprise because I’d kind of been staring at him. He didn’t seem to mind, though. ‘Have you ever seen them?’

‘Erm, sorry… have I ever seen what?’ The sudden appearance of this stranger had unsettled me slightly. One thing I certainly wasn’t used to was being approached by attractive young men wanting to strike up a conversation. But something – I didn’t know what, exactly – was telling me he was okay. I had nothing to worry about.

‘The Northern Lights,’ he replied, smiling at me, and I had to turn away for a second. I’d been knocked for six somewhat and I just needed a moment to pull myself together.

‘No. No, I haven’t seen them,’ I said, turning back to look at him, taking in his handsome face with the beautiful smile, deep, dark eyes and perfect skin. He had a really lovely accent too. I wondered if he was a local. Maybe he was a ski instructor or something. Oh God, I hope he wasn’t trying to drum up business, because one place I really wasn’t in a hurry to be was on a pair of skis. I’d seen people outside the hotel trying to walk around in those ski boots and the majority of them looked as though they had a bad case of piles, which led me to think they obviously weren’t the easiest or most comfortable of things to wear. And that was before you even added the skis to the bottom of them. No, he was going to be bitterly disappointed if he was hoping for me to become a new pupil. I didn’t care how good-looking he was.

‘Would you like to?’ he asked, still looking at me with those intense eyes of his. He had one hell of a stare on him but the strange thing was, he wasn’t making me feel in the least bit uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, in fact.

‘Yes,’ I replied, unable to take my eyes off him, even though it felt a touch weird to be here in the middle of this magical little Christmas village staring at this stranger who’d seemed to appear out of nowhere. ‘Yes, I would.’

‘I think you should,’ he said, nodding slowly as he lifted his eyes skywards again, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black jacket.

I wanted to ask why – why he thought I should – but, for some reason, I couldn’t seem to get the words out.

‘My name is Mikku,’ he went on, bringing his gaze once more back on me.

‘I… I’m Jessie,’ I said, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly tired. It was as if all the events of the past year had finally caught up with me – like a huge weight had just landed square on my shoulders, weighing me down.

‘Jessie… that’s a lovely name…’ He smiled at me again and, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the tiredness seemed to dissipate, leaving me with a strange sense of calm. ‘Would you like some company, Jessie?’

Was he coming on to me? But, as I looked at him, right into those ridiculously deep eyes of his, I knew it wasn’t like that. It was nothing like that. For some reason I just couldn’t explain, I felt incredibly comfortable with this man. This strange young man with the intense gaze and the soft voice. And, despite having planned this as a day to reflect, a day to be on my own and think about what it was I was supposed to do with this new, enforced future of mine, I suddenly realised that, yes. Yes, I did actually want some company.

‘I think I’d like that,’ I said, returning the smile he gave me. ‘I think I’d like that a lot.’

*

I sat down at the secluded corner table in the small and cosy café that Mikku had brought us to in the centre of town. It had a warm and welcoming atmosphere with terracotta and brown painted walls, a dark stone floor and a huge open fire at one end that crackled and burned from within an imposing stone fireplace decorated with candles and the most beautiful holly and berry garland. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling and Christmas songs played in the background, still audible above the sound of chatter from the many customers who were enjoying lunch, grabbing some time to relax away from the cold and the snow.

‘You look as though you have far too much on your mind.’ Mikku’s voice broke into my thoughts and I looked up as he sat down opposite me, now without the black jacket and hat he’d been wearing outside. He really was a striking young man with short, dark hair that matched those vivid, almost black, eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Jessie. I didn’t mean to speak out of turn, you just look a little… you look lost. You look sad.’

I turned away for a second, looking out of the window at the far end of the café at the decorated shops opposite, people trudging past in their snow boots and layers of winter clothing, everyone gearing up for a Christmas they’d never forget. I had a strange feeling I wasn’t going to forget it in a hurry either. I just didn’t know why yet, and that made everything all the more confusing.

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