‘Remember, we make up for lost time by not squandering what we have now,’ I said softly, placing a hand on Beckett’s arm.
‘Not squandering it by stumbling about, getting freezing cold and sopping wet? Making up for lost time by staying inside, where it’s warm, and we can watch the snow through the window?’
He blew out a sigh, then went to find his boots.
With Bob safely ensconced in his snowsuit and tucked under the pram’s rain cover, Gramps with one hand gripping the pram, the other firmly held by his son, we slowly set off into the forest.
Beckett was right, the snowflakes felt like tiny needles against our exposed skin. The icy wind made it impossible to look up for more than a millisecond, so for most of the way we trudged on, heads down, eyes squinting, concentrating on our feet not sliding out from under us.
The forest probably looked beautiful, if we could see past the whirling blizzard into the gloom.
After about ten minutes, even I had to agree that Beckett was right, and it was time to head back. However, as we carefully turned around, the snowflakes suddenly faded as rapidly as they’d begun.
We all stopped, transfixed, as a beam of sunlight broke through a chink in the canopy above, and the world was transformed into a shimmering, sparkling wonderland.
‘Oh,’ I breathed.
‘Not bad,’ Gramps agreed.
Every leaf and branch was painted with a topcoat of pure white. The air was heavy, sounds muffled as the forest lay still beneath the winter blanket.
A robin appeared on a nearby holly bush, sending a smattering of snow tumbling to the ground.
Suddenly, I felt a thud against my back.
Twisting around, I found Beckett dusting the remains of the snowball from his gloves.
‘Didn’t think you’d want me to squander the opportunity,’ he said, grinning.
Still shaking my head in disbelief, I quickly bent down, grabbed some snow and shot one back at him. Of course, I didn’t have the advantage of surprise, so he dodged it, easily.
What he didn’t see coming was Gramps, only a couple of steps away, carefully scooping a handful from the tree stump bedside him and shoving it down Beckett’s collar. His shriek scared off the robin, but had Gramps leaning on the stump as he laughed.
‘Okay. Ceasefire!’ Beckett said, jiggling about as he tried to dislodge the snow now sliding down his back.
‘Only if you admit to being soundly beaten.’ I giggled.
‘By an enfeebled old man,’ Gramps added.
‘I’m ending this now before someone other than me winds up injured,’ Beckett said primly, taking hold of the pram handle. ‘We all know there’s no question about whether I could destroy you if I tried.’
‘Whatever you say. If that makes you feel better, then, yes, of course you could,’ I said, moving over to give him a patronising pat on the shoulder.
Our journey back was equally slow, but this was much more of a pleasant amble through the inch of snowfall, rather than a torturous battle against the elements.
‘Go on. I know you’re dying to say it,’ I groaned, catching the knowing smirk on Beckett’s face as I stopped to admire a particularly beautiful-looking clearing. ‘We should have waited until the snow stopped.’
‘I guess some people need to find things out for themselves, rather than listening to someone who knows better.’
‘Well, thank you for coming with me.’ I linked my arm through his. ‘Even though you knew it was a bad idea.’
‘If Gramps had slipped, you’d have needed me.’ He glanced at Marvin, who had pushed the pram over to where a fungus the size of a dinner plate protruded from a tree trunk.
‘But doesn’t this seem even more beautiful, having experienced the brunt of the blizzard?’
‘Are you turning your stubborn insistence on dragging an old man and a baby out in a snowstorm into a valuable life lesson?’
I grinned at him, feeling that disconcerting belly-swoop again when he gave a resigned eyeroll and smiled back.
