Page 5 of A Snowfall of Silver

“Freya?” he says. A smile spreads across his face. My goodness, it’s so easy to see why Lou fell head over heels for him. Even after two years, his handsomeness still hits me like a little electric shock. He’s all cheekbones and jawline and mossy green eyes and careless dark hair. He places the coffee cup down on the table beside him, next to a plate of toast smeared with marmalade, then gets to his feet and plants a brief kiss on my cheek. The gorgeous smell of him makes my knees a bit weak.

I glance at Lou and her laughing eyes tell me she’s well aware of how devastating he can be.

“What are you doing here?” Robert asks me.

“I’ve run away, of course,” I say, twitching a slice of toast from Robert’s plate and flopping down into a nearby armchair.

Lou groans. “Of course you have.”

“Run away?” Robert’s brows draw together in concern. “Why?” He seems to look at me properly for the first time. “And what on earth are you wearing?”

“It’s her running-away costume,” Lou says.

“Good, isn’t it?” I ask, around a mouthful of toast. “Gosh, this is excellent marmalade. Almost as good as Midge’s.”

“Robert made it.” Lou’s mouth curls into a smile. “Midge sent him the recipe.”

“Did she?” I ask, surprised and not a little impressed. Midge doesn’t share her recipes with just anyone.

Robert nods, distracted. “I don’t understand, Freya. Why have you run away? Is something wrong at home?”

“I should imagine,” Lou says, resting her chin on her hand, “that Freya has run away to seek fame and fortune.”

I’d forgotten Lou’s annoying habit of knowing just what one is thinking. It comes of being a writer, I suppose. She’s so watchful and she always says I’m an open book. As a young woman trying to cultivate a certain air of mystery, that’s pretty galling to hear.

“Well, yes, I have actually,” I say, a little sulkily. “How did you know?”

“Because you look exactly like a runaway, come to the big city in search of fame and fortune, of course.”

“Oh,” I say, torn between annoyance at how transparent I am, and satisfaction that my performance was so convincing. I suppose I only have myself to blame.

“I’m sorry,” Robert says, looking from me to Lou and back again. “I’m sure I’m being very slow, but … why run away, Freya? Why not arrange a visit? We could have met you at the train station.”

“Oh, Robert!” Lou chides disapprovingly, at the same time as I exclaim, “Of all the silly questions! What sort of an adventure would that be?”

Robert gives a surprised bark of laughter and holds up his hands in surrender. “Ah,” he says. “I see I’ve betrayed a horrible lack of imagination.” His eyes meet Lou’s and they look at each other for a second in a warm, lit-up way that makes my skin prickle. I lower my own gaze to stare doggedly down at my toast.

“Right.” Robert clears his throat. “I’ll go and make you some tea, shall I? Then we can have the whole story.”

“That would be lovely.” I eye him slyly. “How nice to have you around, Robert. And so early in the morning too.” Though he tries to look unmoved, a faint pink flush spreads across the top of Robert’s cheeks and he leaves without another word.

“That was unnecessary,” Lou reprimands me.

I shrug, petulant, already falling back into the role of little sister. “The two of you shouldn’t be living in sin, then.”

Lou snorts. “Living in sin. You sound like Aunt Irene. Anyway,” she continues primly, “Robert doesn’t live here. He has a flat of his own.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.” Lou looks at me from under her brows. “And you’re the one who’s not supposed to be here. I hope you at least told Midge and Pa where you were going.”

“Of course I didn’t!” I exclaim. “What kind of a runaway tells her parents where she’s going?”

For the first time Lou looks startled. “Freya! They’ll be so worried! You should have left a note.”

I wave an airy hand. “Oh, I did that. I left a note telling them that I was running away to be an actress and that everything was fine and they have nothing to worry about. I just didn’t tell them where I was going.”

Lou rubs her forehead. “We’ll have to telephone,” she says at last, looking at her watch. “I’ll phone through to the Kimbrells now and see if they can send Johnny up to the farm.”