‘You’re never going to win a snowball fight.’ Didi found herself reluctantly smiling in return.
‘I’m a lover, not a fighter.’ He paused, then shook his head. ‘That’s probably the wrong thing to say. All I really want to do is finish building this snowman. You could give me a hand if you like.’
‘Could I?’
His eyes were bright. ‘You can even sing.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Didi. ‘You had to go there.’
‘I was only teasing earlier.’ The grin broadened. ‘You have the voice of an angel.’
‘The voice of an angel who sometimes sings off-key. It’s OK, I know it’s not always great. I just love doing it anyway.’
He tilted his head. ‘So are you going to stay and give me a hand?’
‘May as well.’ Snowflakes were landing on his hair and lashes, settling on the shoulders of his navy jacket. ‘Seems like you could do with some help from an expert.’
It took them a good thirty minutes, but at last their snowman was completed and looking magnificent. Standing five feet high, with twenty-cent coins for eyes, an abandoned stripy scarf wrapped around his neck and Didi’s yellow bobble hat providing the finishing touch, he wore a jaunty smile fashioned from discarded bottle caps.
A group of Spanish tourists applauded their efforts and offered them a swig from their bottle of Prosecco. Spotting another unopened bottle protruding from the overcoat pocket of one of the men, Shay asked in broken Spanish if he could buy it and offered him a twenty-euro note.
When the Spaniards had left, they collected two chairs from the dozens laid out in front of the café behind them and planted them next to their magnificent creation. As the snowflakes continued to tumble helter-skelter, Shay removed the wire cage from around the bottle’s cork and passed it to Didi, who used it to give their snowman a nose. He popped the cork and they took it in turns to drink from the bottle before setting it down in the snow between them. Then together they sat back, side by side, to properly take in the beauty of their surroundings.
‘So here we are.’ Shay’s bare fingers were loosely clasped as they rested on his chest. ‘I know your name and I know where you live, but not much more than that. Why don’t you tell me something fascinating about you?’
Didi considered the question. They both lived in Elliscombe and were in their last year at school, but the social circles they moved in were entirely different and seldom overlapped. She and Layla attended Stonebank Hall, several miles north of the town, and their parents were able to afford the fees, plus such luxuries as holidays abroad. By way of contrast, Shay Mason was in his final year at the local comprehensive at the opposite end of town, his mum had died six years ago and his dad was currently in prison. Again.
But those facts alone might give a stranger the wrong idea about Shay, who didn’t appear to feel remotely hard done by and who’d always brimmed with confidence. As Didi thought this, it occurred to her that she appeared to know more about him than he did about her, probably because his upbringing had been that much more interesting to observe and other people had loved to gossip about him. Over the years, whilst his father had spent varying periods of time languishing at Her Majesty’s pleasure, Shay had convinced his social workers that he’d be staying with the parents of various school friends before stealthily moving back into the family home and looking after himself whilst working hard at school and simultaneously holding down two or three part-time jobs during the evenings and weekends. He and his clothes were always clean. He had charm, coupled with confidence and the ability to chat easily with anyone at all. He was tall and lean, built like an athlete. And of course it didn’t do any harm that he possessed the kind of glowing good looks that made him irresistible to far more than his fair share of admirers.
Charisma, that was the indefinable quality. People either had it or they didn’t. It would be easy to feel sorry for anyone else whose upbringing had been so chaotic and unpromising, but you wouldn’t feel sorry for Shay Mason.
Anyway, he’d asked her a question. ‘I can pick up a pencil with my bare toes,’ said Didi.
‘Useful.’
‘It is useful.’
‘And you can actually write messages with it?’
‘Of course, but I’m not going to do it now. Your turn. What’s fascinating about you?’
Promptly he replied, ‘I can fit a whole crumpet in my mouth in one go.’
She nodded, impressed. ‘Equally useful.’
‘Can I ask you another question? Why did Layla invite me along on this trip?’
It had been one of Layla’s father’s typically expansive gestures. He’d asked her how she’d like to celebrate her eighteenth birthday, and Layla had said she’d always wanted to visit Venice, thinking that it would be a family holiday. Instead, her dad had told her to pick nine friends so she could celebrate with them in style, creating memories that would last a lifetime. To avoid mayhem, her parents had come along too, in order to pay for everything and keep the party under control.
‘She told me you were kind to her,’ said Didi. ‘Something about a group of boys taking the mickey out of her one night in town. But you stepped in, sorted them out and walked her home.’ She paused, because Shay was observing her closely. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? Did it not happen?’
‘Oh yes, it happened. And it was really good of Layla to ask me along. It was just . . . you know, unexpected.’ His brief smile indicated what he meant. Out of the ten of them here in Venice, nine were from the two local private schools and socialised together. Shay was the only one from the comprehensive and certainly the only one with a jailbird dad.
‘She wanted you here.’ Didi brushed away a snowflake that had landed like a feather on her nose. ‘She likes you.’
‘What kind of like?’ Shay’s silver-blue gaze was unwavering. ‘That’s why I’m asking you. Does she just like me as a friend because I’m an awesome person – which I definitely am, by the way – or does she fancy me?’
‘And you’re asking me this because you want her to fancy you?’
‘I don’t want that. She’s a lovely girl, but . . . no.’ He shook his head. ‘But I don’t want to hurt her feelings either.’
They paused whilst an elderly man drew closer in order to admire their snowman then smiled and nodded before continuing across the square.
‘I asked her this evening, before dinner,’ said Didi. ‘And she said no, she just likes you as a friend. No plans for anything more.’
‘OK. Well, good to know.’ Clearly relieved, Shay raked his damp blonde hair back from his forehead. ‘Out of interest, any other reason you can think of for her inviting me?’
Didi recalled sitting in the kitchen of Layla’s house whilst she’d been compiling her list of invitees. When Shay’s name had come up, Layla’s mum Rosa had said, ‘Would he get on with your other friends?’ and Layla had replied, ‘Of course he would, Shay gets on with everyone. And I bet he’s never had a holiday in his life.’
Was that what he was asking now? She wasn’t about to tell him he’d been added to the list as an act of charity. Instead she said, ‘No other reason. She’s just grateful you rescued her from the idiots that time. And I can’t believe you aren’t even wearing gloves.’ She changed the subject and pointed to his hands. ‘Aren’t they freezing?’