Page 84 of Snowed In with You

‘I’m sure he’d have loved them, Mum,’ said Lucy, feeling suddenly exhausted. ‘But he’s not here. It’s just me.’

By 10 p.m. Lucy was back in her room, having eaten a meal that tasted like a science experiment conducted by someone who had sniffed too much glue, talked her dad into a family therapy session, and taken a two-hour photo journey through her childhood. Lucy’s father had been a keen amateur photographer, and the first sixteen years of her and Leo’s lives had been captured and printed and carefully catalogued in sixteen leather-bound photo albums, each one labelled with the year and lined up on the bookshelf like a set of encyclopaedias. School photos, birthday parties, holidays, school plays – every moment was there, and in every photo she and Leo were together.

The photos had dried up in the last five years of Leo’s life, prompted partly by the advent of smartphones, and partly by Leo being less inclined to let his parents shove a camera in his face. He had a memorial Facebook page, which featured photos taken by friends at school and college, and a handful of him and Lucy together looking like moody adolescents.

Where are all my school friends? she thought, scrolling through the sparse collection of photos on her own Facebook page. She had acquaintances now, obviously – mates from university and the gym and people who lived in neighbouring flats. But nobody from when they were at school. Because when they were kids, it was just her and Leo. Twins with an unbreakable bond, always together, always a partnership. The two of them hadn’t needed anyone else.

And now she was thirty-three years old, and could count her trusted, ride-or-die friends on one hand. Actually, on one finger, because Jonno was it, really. I lost a brother, and that made a tiny space for Jonno, who I love and trust like a brother, thought Lucy. But I’ve never let anyone else get close.

And the funny thing was that Nate had instantly seen what Lucy had been blind to, even though he’d only known her for a few days. Leo was the most significant partnership of your life, and then he died. So maybe now you subconsciously can’t form meaningful relationships.

And in the end, it all came back to Nate, didn’t it? Chemistry and timing.

She sat cross-legged on the bed and took a few deep breaths, acknowledging that today had been about being open and honest – with herself, with Kristoff, with her mother . . . and now it was time to be honest with Nate. She clicked on WhatsApp, but weirdly he wasn’t listed in her connections any more, and their previous messages had disappeared. Perhaps he was getting besieged by everyone in his contact list and decided to delete the app, which seemed like a reasonable course of action. Instead she clicked on the speech bubble icon and composed an old-school text message.

Kristoff and I have split up, and I got the impression that maybe you and Sasha had too? Perhaps that’s a sign that we should talk? I know you’re busy right now, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Lucy x

She read it through a few times until she was happy that it was short, to the point and unambiguous in its intent. She clicked send before she could change her mind, then immediately received a message back that said Cannot send. Number unknown.

Shit, thought Lucy, her heart sinking. He’s changed his number. What the hell am I supposed to do now? She could WhatsApp Sasha and ask for his new number, but the prospect of that conversation made her feel itchy, so she opted to avoid taking that plunge by looking at Nate’s TikTok instead. She scrolled back to January and lost herself in his extraordinary journey for a while, starting with the videos from that first week after they got back from Zermatt. Then snippets from live TV shows, walking the red carpet at the BRITs in February, meeting fans, studio sessions, some public appearances, and then Glastonbury. And most recently, a behind-the-scenes video in London, filmed just this afternoon. Nate was currently in rehearsals for his UK and European tour, and the video showed him performing with his band. He was wearing a white T-shirt that hugged his newly gym-honed chest, and there was a – wait, thought Lucy. What IS that?

She paused and rewound the video, then watched it again. There was something on his right arm that definitely hadn’t been there in Zermatt. A bruise, maybe? Or a scar? But however many times she watched, the video scanned across him too fast for her to see what it was.

She opened her laptop and put his name into Google Images, then started scrolling through the thousands of pictures that had been posted online in the past four months. Lots of him in suits and shirts or his standard uniform of plaid shirts, but the sleeves were never rolled up far enough. A couple of him papped by the Daily Mail wearing swimming shorts in Ibiza, looking tanned and fit, but none of the pictures showed the right angle of his arm, or maybe the mark hadn’t been there then. A few pictures of him with various female celebrities, which Lucy glossed over because she definitely didn’t need to go down that pit of despair. She kept scrolling, becoming increasingly frustrated that she couldn’t find one decent picture of his right arm.

Lucy opened YouTube and started with the most recent video. It was the same studio as the one featured on TikTok earlier, with Nate wearing the same white T-shirt, but the video was a longer version that featured a quickfire Q&A where Nate dropped a few hints about the upcoming tour.

There! thought Lucy, pausing the video and winding it back a couple of frames. The mark was intimately familiar, and entirely unmistakeable. Four letters tattooed in black ink on the inside of his forearm, just below the elbow.

WAHZ. Exactly as she’d written them in marker pen in January, with the same oversized Z and calligraphy typeface, but now permanently tattooed on his arm.

We’ll always have Zermatt.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Lucy woke up on Monday morning after a restless night, mostly spent reliving every moment she’d spent with Nate, and trying to work out what the tattoo on his arm signified about his feelings for her. He’d clearly preserved the letters she’d written in marker pen, but why? And when? It had to be in the few days afterwards, otherwise the pen would have faded too much for the tattoo artist to get an exact match. But he’d also been actively trying to hide it for the five months since, so maybe he was already having tattoo regret. It all felt quite confusing, but Lucy’s instinct told her that it had to be a good thing.

By the time she’d eaten toast with her parents and waved them off to work, she’d come to the inevitable conclusion that the only person who was going to help her get in touch with Nate was Sasha. She’d grudgingly discounted Alex, on the basis she have to go via Willem, who she’d exchanged a handful of messages with since Zermatt but definitely wasn’t a close enough friend for awkward favours. So, whilst she was packing up her stuff to head home to Bristol, she bit the bullet and messaged her.

Hey Sasha, can we meet? If Lucy was going to beg for Sasha’s help to win the love of a man they’d both slept with, she’d much rather do it over coffee in London or Bristol. Woman to woman, no messing about.

Yes, of course, came the reply. Message Olly and he’ll put some time in for later this week.

Ouch, thought Lucy. She could feel the dismissal from however many miles away Sasha was right now, like a bug being swatted with a tea towel. She sighed and started to type another message, then deleted it and called her instead.

‘Hello, Lucy,’ said Sasha’s voice. ‘I thought you had a day off today.’

‘I do,’ said Lucy, trying to keep her voice light and breezy. ‘I was actually hoping you could give me Nate’s new number?’

There was silence for a few seconds, then the sound of a door being closed. ‘I can’t do that without his permission, obviously,’ said Sasha coolly. ‘The best I can do is tell him you asked, and then he can message you.’

‘Right,’ said Lucy.

‘I don’t think it will be anytime soon, though. He’s in the studio right now. Rehearsing for the tour.’

The implication from Sasha was clear – I’m still an influence in Nate’s life, and you’re not. Lucy swallowed down her disappointment and kept her voice strong. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘If you could let him know I called, I’d appreciate it. I need to speak to him pretty urgently.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ said Sasha, giving the impression that Lucy probably shouldn’t hold her breath. ‘Give Kristoff my love.’ Sasha hung up before Lucy could answer, leaving her feeling like she’d made zero progress. What now? she thought, itching to do something that would help her feel like she was getting closer to her goal, somehow. The exact nature of that goal was less clear, but she would worry about that later.