A thin layer of snow had lined the streets during the night, but already the imprints of feet hurrying to work in the city had left it sparse and muddy. Tessa wondered what it would be like to see snow in the countryside, fresh, new and untainted.
That would be something, she thought, though pretty dangerous too.
She listened to the clunk of her heels on the pavement, instead of the question Bran had obviously already asked.
“So, do you have any plans for Christmas?”
Abashed, she replied sheepishly.
“Sorry, I was off with the fairies.”
“Were you now?” he replied good-naturedly. “Hope they didn’t harm you.
“Ah, I guess that’s a bit of an obscure expression to use. Sorry.” She hoped that her cheeks weren’t too pink. A faux pas, but it was an expression her father had always used, and she had never sought to stop saying it.
Tessa rubbed her cold nose with her glove and walked in silence for a few moments.
“How about Christmas then? Are you busy?” Bran asked her again, and Tessa gulped awkwardly for forgetting to answer him again.
“Yes, actually. Ms Warwick, the lady I babysit for invited me to spend it with them.” She readjusted her bag strap, which had slipped off her shoulder. “They don’t really have any family, and she’s got some extra money from the holiday season.”
“That sounds great,” he said with what she thought was disappointment. Biting her lip, Tessa felt more guilty then she thought she should. They weren’t dating. Bran is my friend, she reassured herself, that was all.
“What about you?” She turned to him, trying to avoid a harried looking man that had just rushed past her. “Won’t you be spending it with your family?”
Bran rubbed the back of his neck and avoided her eyes.
“Yeah, I guess. My folks argue like the devil and his mother.”
Their conversation melted as they trudged through the dirty sleet on the pavement. Tessa studied the meagre Christmas lighting that decked the street lamps and overhangs. Apparently Piccadilly Circus looked amazing at this time of year, but the local district council here didn’t quite have the same means
I wonder if Eve has a Christmas tree, Tessa pondered, tugging at the hem of her scarf. It had been years since she’d celebrated with one. It was difficult to muster the enthusiasm when she was by herself.
“What does that smile mean?” Bran asked her curiously.
“Oh, I’m just happy,” she answered, swinging her arms out like a child, “This next year could be a good one.”
