A Christmas Night to Remember(42)
When the said Michael escorted them into the courtyard, which was three or four inches deep in snow, it had stopped snowing. The night was bitterly cold, but crisp and exhilarating, and although the odd window or two which overlooked the courtyard in the hotel glowed dimly, most of them were in darkness. ‘I’ll go and sort out those items you wanted, sir,’ the porter said, obviously tickled pink by the proceedings. ‘Lost property should provide the hat and scarf. In these days of political correctness I’d better ask—is the intended snowman male or female? I wouldn’t like to presume the gender.’
Zeke smiled. ‘I think we’ll build one of each. How’s that?’
‘Right you are, sir. Very wise, if I may say so.’
As the man bustled away, Melody caught Zeke’s eye. ‘They think we’re oddballs. You know that, don’t you?’
His smile widened, his voice serene. ‘I prefer idiosyncratic myself—and why shouldn’t we make the most of it? We’ve had plenty of winters where it’s been damp and wet and miserable in this country. This is—’ he paused, staring up into the dark sky above them and then at the white crystallized tree the courtyard contained, made beautiful by its blanket of glistening snow ‘—special. A night in a million, don’t you think?’
He was right. It was. The whole night was special. Special and poignant and unbearably precious. Melody pulled her gloves farther over her wrists. ‘Let’s get building,’ she suggested matter-of-factly, praying he hadn’t noticed the tears pricking at the back of her eyes. ‘Our offspring are waiting to be born.’
She wished she hadn’t said that as soon as the words were out of her mouth. It suggested a permanence which could never be now. But he didn’t appear to notice, and soon they were busy with the job in hand. It was hard work, but fun, and she didn’t think she had laughed so much for years. The porter returned with the things they’d asked for and then stayed to help for a while. They learnt he had a wife and eight children and twenty-four grandchildren, which was a little staggering, and that every Christmas they all descended for Christmas Day lunch and tea.
‘It’s mayhem,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Absolute mayhem. But the missus is only truly happy when the brood’s around. Some women are like that, aren’t they? Natural mothers.’
Melody smiled and nodded, but his words had struck a chord in her which had been bothering her for a while. Before the accident she had always assumed that eventually she and Zeke would have children, but she had been content to put it to the back of her mind. The act of bringing a child into the world was a huge responsibility, she’d told herself in the rare moments when she’d dwelt on the possibility, and both parents had to be ready for it otherwise it could cause havoc between a couple.
Like it had between her mother and father. Her father had left without even seeing his child, abandoning her mother because he couldn’t or wouldn’t grow up enough to be a father and husband. And she knew her grandfather had blamed her grandmother for being too tied up with their daughter and neglecting him. Her grandmother had told her that herself. And so, deep in the hidden part of her, she had reconciled herself to not having children. That was the truth of it.
She stopped what she was doing and stared at Zeke. And now the very thing she’d decided against was a torment of what she had lost. She wanted his babies. She wanted to have a part of him. Why hadn’t she realised it before it was too late? Why hadn’t she faced some of those issues and brought them to light? And how could she have been so mixed up for so long without knowing it? Surely other people weren’t like her?
‘What?’ Zeke had been busy rolling a head for the first snowman but now he straightened, his breath a white mist in the freezing air. ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’
Melody came out of the maelstrom of her thoughts, forcing a smile. ‘Nothing,’ she said lightly. ‘I was just wondering what those little girls we met earlier will say when they see our snow couple in the morning. Perhaps we should build two little ones too. They’d like that. A snow family, like them.’
His eyes narrowed in the way they did when he knew she was prevaricating, but with someone else present he didn’t press the issue, and soon they were engrossed in building again. The porter left to find them hot drinks after half an hour, and the two of them worked on in the crystal-clean air.
It took two hours, and several cups of hot chocolate provided by the amenable Michael, but eventually the snow family were finished.