He fixed the van?
‘I’ve got my licence upstairs, and I think I insured it when I got it just in case,’ Christopher says, mostly to himself.‘I haven’t driven around here in the snow before.There’re a lot more hills than in Oxlea.’
‘Just go slow and hope for the best,’ Shaz offers.
‘Wow, thanks.’
‘Sorry, mildly supportive aphorisms are all I can offer.I’ll go get her meds.You two can get loaded up.See you in a tick.’
* * *
Twenty minutes later, outside the bakery, Christopher exchanges a paper bag of fresh-out-of-the-oven gingerbread reindeer with a prescription from the pharmacy down the road with Shaz.
‘This feels like an illicit deal,’ she says, waggling her eyebrows.
‘They might be a bit wonky.I didn’t have enough time to cool them properly, so who knows what shapes they’ve set in.And they’re not decorated.’
‘Err, stop apologising, will you?Wonky or no, it’s a win for me.Drive safely.Call me if you need anything?’
‘Will do,’ he says, locking up the bakery behind him.It’s incredibly cold outside, but thankfully it has stopped actively snowing.The sky is murky grey, clouds still heavy with snow.
He rounds the corner and finds Nash doing last check-ups on the van, which is gently humming.Even if it doesn’t sound as if it’s going to be capable of driving him to Yorkshire, finally having his own means of transport feels like a huge relief.Perhaps he can actually explore this new country he’s moved to.
The short driveway that runs down the side of the bakery has been cleared of snow, and a small bank of it sits neatly at the edge.‘Thanks for clearing the snow,’ Christopher says.
Nash pops his head up from under the bonnet of the van.‘No worries.I only did your drive.I wasn’t sure if you guys have rules about who can clear the sidewalk, you know, in case someone sues.’
Christopher hops onto the worn leather of the front seat, to get himself familiar with the van.Despite its general neglect, it’s clean inside, though he’s not entirely unconvinced that wasn’t another Nash Nadeau morning task.What a strange man he is.
‘You do a lot of pavement-clearing in LA, then?’Christopher asks.
‘Not in LA, but I’m Canadian.’
‘Are you?’asks Christopher, before instantly regretting what a giveaway the surprised squeak in his voice is.
Nash closes the bonnet of the van and fixes him with a puzzled grin.‘Yes?’
Christopher pretends to be distracted by cleaning the mirror.‘Is clearing snow a genetic predisposition?’he asks casually.
‘No, I just had to do it a lot as a kid.Why are you so interested that I’m Canadian?’
‘Just don’t meet a lot of Canadians,’ Christopher replies quickly.
Behind him, the back door to the van opens and Nash piles a bunch of tools inside.
Christopher raises his eyebrows.‘One, where did you get those?And two, why do you think we’ll need a saw exactly?We’re hardly going on an expedition.It’s just to the top of the village.’
‘From the shed I broke into; and you never know what is going to be helpful in a snowstorm,’ Nash replies, slamming the doors shut.‘When I was a kid in Canada, I was taught to always make sure you have the things you need on the road.’
Christopher tries to resist rolling his eyes.‘Come on, I’ve got the prescription.Do you want to drive?’
To his surprise, Nash slinks around the car and sits in the passenger side.‘You’re already there.Go ahead.’
Damn.If he’s being honest, he hoped Nash would test-drive it, especially as he is apparently Canadian and presumably very familiar with the snow.He must have driven in the snow more than Christopher has.
‘You can drive it if you want?Especially seeing as you fixed it.’
‘I’m good.Wrong side of the road and I don’t have insurance for here.’
