White Christmas (3 page)

Hal stood up again, keen to continue the exchange.

‘But it snowed two years ago. Don’t you remember? My folks
live down a farm track in the middle of the Cotswolds and the snow was a good
twelve inches deep there. They couldn’t get out for love or money. And the rest
of the family couldn’t get to them either. We ended up having our Christmas
dinner the day after Boxing Day.’

Lizzie stared at Hal. What was he on about? She’d spent the
best part of an hour giving a serious lecture and here he was, droning on about
his mum and dad.
 

‘I’m very sorry to hear it, Mr Benson. But hopefully you’ll
be in luck this year. Hopefully it won’t snow and you’ll be able to sit down to
your turkey and Christmas pudding on the right day. Now, after that fascinating
interlude, can I thank you all very much for coming. I hope that it’s been
helpful and I wish you luck in all your meteorological endeavours.’

As Lizzie closed her laptop and the audience drifted out of
the room, she looked up. Hal was still there, leaning back in his seat and
studying her intently.

‘Thanks for that,’ he grinned. ‘It was really useful. I’m
new to this game and I understand a hell of a lot more after your talk.’

Disarmed by the compliment, Lizzie smiled back. Hal Benson
didn’t have a clue about weather forecasts, she thought, but he was certainly a
charmer.

‘How come you’re doing the weather for Last Ditch?’ she
asked, remembering the years she’d spent training as a meteorologist. ‘Jobs
like that are pretty hard to come by. There must have been a lot of
competition.’

‘God knows,’ said Hal. ‘The whole thing’s a mystery to me.
One moment I’m out of work, the next my agent’s on the blower telling me to get
round to Last Ditch and audition as a weatherman. It all seemed a bit of a
wind-up, except, well… I ended up getting the gig. It’s only for four weeks
though, just till Micky Lennon comes back. He’s drying… I mean, he’s on a
sabbatical. Do you know him?’

‘I’ve met him a few times,’ said Lizzie cautiously. She
remembered the last time she’d seen Micky Lennon only too well. He’d been a TV
weather presenter for twenty years or so, but in recent months his
unreliability and predilection for the finest Burgundy had led to him being
booted from one TV station to another. A few weeks ago, Lizzie had seen him
drink so much at a TV awards ceremony that he’d careered into a well-known soap
star and they’d both been carted off to hospital.

‘Well, he’ll be back in the New Year, all squeaky clean and
raring to go, I’m sure. But in the meantime, they’ve got me in.’

Despite her disapproval at his woeful lack of experience,
Lizzie found herself warming to Hal. She could hardly blame him for taking the
job at Last Ditch. If they’d been idiotic enough to offer it to someone who was
clueless about the weather, then more fool them.

‘Are you catching the train back to London now?’ he asked.

‘Yes. How about you?’

‘A bit later. My sister lives in Oxford so I’m popping in to
see her first. If I’d had more time I’d have whizzed across to the Cotswolds to
see my parents, but the director will have my guts for garters if I’m late
tomorrow.’

‘And you couldn’t risk getting snowed in...’

‘Very funny,’ smiled Hal. ‘But what I said was completely
true. And do you know what? I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it happened again
this year. It feels cold enough to snow already.’

Lizzie didn’t mean to laugh but she couldn’t help herself.
Hal pulled his coat on and pulled a green knitted hat over his ears.

‘Well it does,’ he said. ‘It’s freezing out there.’

‘I don’t meant to be rude, Hal, but do you even understand
what snow is?’

She could see by the look on Hal’s face that he’d never
given it a second thought. For the umpteenth time she wished that schools would
make science more engaging. Half her friends had given it up the instant they
could and most of them were mystified about why she found it so
fascinating.
 

‘Go on then. Can you explain?’

‘OK,’ nodded Lizzie. ‘I’ll explain on the way out of here.’

As they strolled out of the lecture hall, deep in conversation,
Lizzie began to see she’d been wrong about Hal Benson. OK, he was completely
clueless about the weather but he was good company.

‘So you want to know about snow,’ she said. ‘Well, it’s
formed when temperatures are low and there is moisture in the atmosphere.
Moisture in the form of tiny ice crystals, I mean. Got it?’

‘So far, so good,’ nodded Hal.

‘When these tiny ice crystals collide with each other they
stick together in clouds and form snowflakes. And if enough of them stick
together they’ll be heavy enough to fall to the ground. And hey presto, we have
snow.’

‘Sounds simple enough. Now why didn’t I realise that
before?’

‘Well you’ve realised it now,’ said Lizzie, laughing. ‘We’ll
make a weather forecaster out of you yet. You mark my words.’

As they walked up St Aldate’s towards Carfax Tower, Lizzie
took a quick look at Hal. It was funny, she thought. After seeing him on TV she
had been so sure he would be a self-satisfied prat – when in fact he had turned
out to be the exact opposite. With Rob she’d been forever trying to please him,
offering up little nuggets of conversation to get him interested. Talking to
Hal, however, didn’t require any effort at all. It was easy, just like talking
to one of her old friends. He certainly didn’t look like a weather presenter
though. With his ripped jeans and retro-style messenger bag slung across one
shoulder, he could easily have passed for an Oxford student.

‘Are you having to work Christmas?’ he asked.

‘I think so,’ said Lizzie. ‘Actually, between you and me,
I’d quite like to. My mum keeps nagging me about going home but I’m going to
try and to avoid Christmas altogether. So I’ve said I’ll work. I just hope my
boss agrees. How about you?’

Hal noticed her frown at the mention of Christmas and
wondered why she was so keen to pretend it wasn’t happening.

‘I’ve got to work,’ he said, a gloomy look appearing on his
face. ‘It’s the worst thing about this contract, but there’s nothing I can do
about it. I’m just sad I won’t be with my folks this year. There’s nothing like
a good old-fashioned family Christmas. And my mum is the best cook ever.’

Lizzie didn’t say anything. She felt oddly envious of Hal’s
cheerful approach to life. She hardly even knew him but he seemed like the
eternal optimist.

‘What time’s your train?’ Hal asked suddenly.

Distracted by the random change of subject, Lizzie had to
think for a moment. She took a crumpled timetable out of her jacket pocket and
quickly checked it.

‘There are loads of trains,’ she said. ‘At least two every
hour, I think. Why?’

‘I just wondered… Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d
love to pick your brains a bit more about the weather. Why don’t you come and
have a cup of tea with me and my sister? She lives in Jericho, only a
ten-minute walk from here. She’d love to meet you.’

Hal kept his tone light. It was vital at all costs not to
let slip that he had next to no interest in the weather. As far as he was
concerned, presenting the weather on TV was just another acting part. OK, he
had to speak with authority and passion, but it didn’t mean he had to
understand the nuts and bolts of it.

Lizzie checked the time on her mobile phone. She wasn’t
allowed to wear a watch on screen – they were deemed too distracting - and
she’d gradually got out of the habit of wearing one. It was only four-thirty.
She had plenty of time to get back to London.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘A quick cup of tea would be lovely. As long
as you’re sure your sister won’t mind.’

‘She’ll be thrilled,’ said Hal. ‘She’s a scientist, like
you. She works as a lab technician at one of the Oxford colleges. Except she’s
on maternity leave right now. She’s just had a baby girl. So she’s got one of
each. A boy called Joe. And now a sweet little girl called Martha. They’re
making me feel quite broody myself.’

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Hal chuckled
ruefully ‘My God, promise you won’t tell my sister I said that or I’ll never
hear the last of it. She’s always on at me to settle down.’

‘Don’t worry,’ smiled Lizzie. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’

They’d reached St Giles by now and Lizzie was enjoying her
whistlestop tour of Oxford. They’d left the hustle and bustle of Cornmarket
behind and Hal was striding along St Giles so fast that Lizzie had to hurry to
keep up. ‘That’s The Eagle and Child – one of the most famous pubs in the whole
of Oxford,’ he said, pointing at a narrow, white-washed building. ‘Writers like
Tolkien and CS Lewis used to meet there every week and talk about their
manuscripts. They called it The Bird and Baby.’

‘How come you know so much about Oxford?’ asked Lizzie,
wrapping her leopard-print scarf round her neck to keep out the cold.

‘I grew up here. So I know pretty much every corner – from
the grooviest clubs down the Cowley Road to the goriest exhibits at the Pitt
Rivers Museum. I used to be fascinated by the shrunken heads…’

Lizzie shuddered at the thought of shrunken heads. ‘Were you
a student here?’ she asked hurriedly.

‘Course not,’ snorted Hal. ‘I mean, I’m not daft, but I’m no
boffin either. No, I headed to drama school in London the minute I could. My
parents were dead against it because, well I’ve proved it really, acting is
such a precarious business. I read somewhere that at any one time ninety per
cent of us are out of work… You couldn’t do it if you weren’t obsessed with it.
There’d be no point.’

So that’s why Hal had appeared out of nowhere, thought
Lizzie. He wasn’t a weather presenter at all. Some of her more militant
colleagues would be livid to find out that Last Ditch had hired an actor,
albeit temporarily, but she secretly admired Hal for having the balls to give
it a shot.

‘Right,’ said Hal, taking a sharp left turn into a narrow
street lined with small, terraced houses. Tasha lives just down there on the
right. It’s the one with the fairy lights. Do you see?’

‘You can’t exactly miss it,’ giggled Lizzie. ‘It looks like
something out of fairyland.’

Dusk was falling and all the other houses in the row were
shrouded in darkness. Hal’s sister’s house shone out like a beacon. The entire
roof and all the windows were covered with twinkling white lights and there was
a huge Christmas tree decorated with luminous pink stars in the front garden.

Hal felt a warm glow inside as he looked at Lizzie’s face.

‘See?’ he grinned. ‘I wasn’t joking when I said that our
family likes Christmas.’
 
 

FIVE

Inside number twenty-two, Tasha Benson was busy trying to do
three things at once. Tall and statuesque, with auburn hair piled up in a messy
top knot, she was rocking two-month-old Martha gently back and forth in her
pram with one hand and playing a game of Snap with three-year-old Joe with the
other. All the while she kept a weather-eye on a saucepan of leek and potato
soup simmering on the stove.

Tasha had always been good at multi-tasking, which was lucky
now that she had two small children to look after. But she hated not being able
to do anything properly these days. Every job had to be abandoned,
half-completed, when it was time to feed Martha or meet Joe from nursery.
Tasha’s face was grey with tiredness and she couldn’t remember the last time
she’d bothered to brush her hair or slap any make-up on. Not that Jamie minded.
He sweetly told her she was beautiful with make-up or without it.

Tasha gazed at her adorable little daughter, fast asleep in
her grandmother’s old-fashioned Silver Cross pram. She’d been born a month
early, but she’d caught up fast. Now it felt like she’d been here forever.
Christmas was fast approaching, though, and they hadn’t even decided where they
were spending Christmas Day, let alone bought any presents. But at least Jamie
had fetched all the Christmas lights down from the attic two nights ago and set
about decorating the outside of the house. The neighbours had been asking Tasha
for weeks when the lights were going up and despite being knackered after two
months of sleep-disturbed nights they’d got it done. ‘It’s funny that these are
the same people who complained to the council the first time we covered the
house with Christmas lights,’ Jamie had grinned from the top of the ladder.
‘Now they can’t get enough of them. Sod’s law, isn’t it?’

They’d invited the whole street round to a special switching
on ceremony and Jamie had even dashed out to buy some cheap red wine and
cinnamon sticks to make mulled wine. But the best thing of all had been seeing
their son’s face light up at the sight of the tree.

‘The tree’s sparkling, Mummy,’ he’d shrieked and Tasha’s
heart had turned over with love.

‘SNAP,’ yelled Joe now as he turned over a playing card and
spotted an identical one on the table.

‘Sssssh,’ soothed Tasha. ‘You’ll wake Martha.’

But it was too late. Martha’s eyes had blinked open at the
sound of her brother’s triumphant bellow. Two seconds later she was bawling fit
to burst and Tasha wearily picked her up to comfort her.

A couple of seconds later, the doorbell rang. Tasha cursed
under her breath. She’d wanted Hal to find a peaceful domestic scene. Instead,
all hell had let loose.

Holding Martha close and with Joe clutching her skirt, Tasha
wrenched the front door towards her. It had a habit of sticking and she had to
use all her strength to open it.

‘It’s so good to see you, Hal,’ she began, but her words
faded away in her throat. Hal wasn’t on his own. Standing next to him on the
doorstep was a pretty brunette in a dark trouser suit and carrying a posh
briefcase. She looked like a smart young lawyer – not at all her brother’s
usual type. As a rule he went for dreamy-looking actresses with wide eyes and
clouds of pre-Raphaelite curls. The last one had ditched him for an actor in
EastEnders and Hal had been devastated.