Page 43 of I’ll Be Home for Christmas

It was cold and she was gulping in air but at the same time she was somehow not getting any relief, as though her lungs were refusing to take in oxygen.

She was half running, half falling along the street, her eyes clouded with tears that cooled the instant they tipped over into salty tracks that stung her cheeks.

Tourists eyed her warily and kept out of her path.

Somewhere in her mind it occurred to her that they probably thought she was drunk or high.

Her mind had made no conscious decision about where she was going, her body simply took her there, and soon she collapsed against the old barn door behind Frost Hardware, banging her fist on the wood like she was going to punch right through it.

Benj opened the door, and she practically fell into his arms.

“Whoa! Hey, Fred, it’s okay, I’ve got you, are you hurt? Ry!” he shouted. “Ryan, get over here!”

Fred tried to speak but her breath wouldn’t come.

Her vision swam, her chest felt like it was going to crack open, and her heart was a pickaxe smashing its way out of her rib cage.

Ryan’s outline came into view, and she held an arm out to him, her hand grasping for him.

Even through her haze, she could see the concern etched across his face.

“What the fuck?” Ryan took her hand, and she launched herself at him, still gasping, one arm gripping tightly around his neck as though she might fall off the world if she didn’t cling on. “It’s okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you. Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, pulling herself back and staring frantically into his eyes in the hope that he could read hers.

“Panic attack?” he asked, and she nodded, relief sweeping through her at being understood. “Okay, okay, we’ve got this. Me and you, yeah, just like when we were kids. We’re going to sit you down and we’re going to breathe it out, okay?”

She nodded again; already the pain inside her ribs was beginning to ease; Ryan was her refuge. Ryan motioned to Benj who nodded once and went on ahead.

“Hold on,” he said quietly, as he bent forward, threaded one arm behind her knees and lifted her into a bridal hold.

He walked briskly and she kept her head buried in his chest as he carried her.

She was vaguely aware of twisting and turning, and of something like foliage brushing against her, but she didn’t have enough focus for anything other than not completely freaking out right now.

All the time Ryan kept up a soothing, repetitive mantra, “I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

In a few moments she was being set gently down upon Father Christmas’s giant throne and Rab was tucking a furry throw around her shoulders.

“Hey there, Freddie,” said Rab, gently. “Benj has just gone to make some tea.” Then, to Ryan, he said, “Shall I give you a minute?”

“Please,” he replied. Ryan knelt before her and took her cold hands in his.

Her fingers were tingly, but her window of vision was beginning to widen.

“Okay, Fred”—his voice was calm and gentle—“we’re going to make this go away. Look at me.”

It was hard to focus on anything when you were drowning, but she did as she was asked. Ryan’s eyes were the daylight drawing her to the surface, his voice was the guide rope gently reeling her home.

“All we’re going to do is breathe. In. And out. In. And out.” He kept saying the words, breathing slowly as he did so, following his own instructions.

After a couple of minutes, Fred was able to follow his instructions too.

She concentrated on copying him, piggybacking her own breaths on his, until eventually she was back in control of herself.

The panic attack had passed, leaving her shaky and wiped out but filled with an immense sense of relief to find herself back in the light.

Benj and Rab slipped quietly in, to rest a mug of hot sweet tea and a tub of Lebkuchen beside her, and then stole quietly back out.

“How are you feeling now?” asked Ryan.

She took a breath, liking the sensation of air inflating her lungs. “Better. Thanks,” she said, quietly.

“Any idea what brought it on?”

“I was saying goodbye to Warren, and…” She didn’t want to go into the details. “And something about the way he behaved reminded me of how Tim used to get, and I guess I just started to spiral. Stupid really.”

“It’s not stupid. It sounds like you were having a trauma response.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. There was no point in denying it. This was her; this was the baggage she came with. Maybe she wouldn’t always carry it, but for now, this was it.

“Can I ask what he did?” Ryan’s jaw was set.

“He didn’t do anything. It was more nuanced than that.

” She tried to think how to describe it, without putting herself back there.

“I guess it was his attitude. Or something? It put me right back in that headspace, I felt that same rising dread that I used to have when I knew I’d done something to upset Tim. ”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ryan’s jaw tick. He sucked in a long slow breath through his nose.

“But Warren realized that I was upset, and he apologized,” she added quickly. “His pride got dented, and he threw some passive-aggressive shade my way instead. He probably didn’t expect it to land as hard as it did.”

Ryan muttered under his breath, “Yeah, right.”

Rab and Benj—who had clearly been listening at the door, in case they were needed—came back in and took seats in the grotto. It was surprisingly crowded in Father Christmas’s sitting room with all four of them in there, but Fred found it immensely comforting to be surrounded by the Frost brothers.

“How are you feeling?” Rab asked her.

“Better.” She smiled. “And a bit stupid.”

“Nothing stupid about panic attacks,” said Benj. “Fucking terrifying things.”

“You too?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes. Unfortunately, they also come in six-foot fisherman size.”

“Sorry,” she said. “That sucks.”

Benj gave her a “what are ya gonna do?” shrug.

“What about you, bro?” Rab asked, turning to Ryan. “You doing all right?”

Ryan inhaled deeply and put his hands on top of his head. “Yep. I just really want to smash Warren’s face in right now. I won’t, because that’s not who I am. But I really fucking want to.”

“But you won’t,” said Rab, in full head teacher mode.

“That’s what I said,” Ryan retorted, through gritted teeth.

“He’ll get his, bro,” said Benj. “Don’t you worry. Karma’s a bitch.” He leaned over on his chair to Ryan and pulled him into a headlock, rubbing his knuckles over his head. “You just need something to take your mind off it, that’s all. Don’t worry, I got you, bro.”

“Benj! Oh my god!” Ryan squirmed but his brother held him tightly, not letting up on scrubbing his head.

“But I loves you, baby brother. I loves him so much, I just want to pet him,” Benj said, grinning stupidly.

Ryan tried and failed to wriggle out of his big brother’s embrace, but he was laughing now as he squealed, “Fuck off!” Any tension that had been building in the grotto evaporated, even Fred sniggered into her tea.

“Benj,” said Rab, in an authoritative tone, and Benj let his brother go, shaking his arms out and avoiding Ryan’s swing in his direction.

“Shit…the hair, man,” Ryan moaned, sitting back up on his chair and trying to smooth his hair down. “Why’ve you always got to mess with the hair?”

“Like that barnet ever gets styled,” Benj retorted. “It’s like dead straw. I’ve seen better-looking scarecrows.”

“At least my hair doesn’t stink of fish.”

“We can’t all smell like a Yankee candle,” Benj retorted.

“All right, that’s enough, don’t make me tell Mum,” Rab said.

“I will just say”—Rab addressed Fred, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap—“that any man with so fragile an ego that he has to resort to discomforting a woman to soothe his pride, is probably a very small man indeed and not worth your time.”

Ryan, who had been easing a knot of tension out of his neck, glanced at Fred. Fred returned his gaze and then looked quickly away. She cleared her throat.

“As it happens, I’d already realized that Warren wasn’t the man for me.” This time when she looked at Ryan, he smiled a smile that was just for her.

“And that,” said Rab, getting up and looking pointedly at Benj, “is our cue to leave. Come on, Benj, I’ll give you a lift home. You all right being left with this one, Fred?” He nodded his head at Ryan.

She laughed. “I think I’m safe with him.”

Fred thanked them again, and then it was just the two of them; her wrapped in a fleece blanket, sitting on a red-and-gold upholstered throne, and Ryan dressed as an elf with haystack hair and vermillion-blotched cheeks.

Fred hadn’t had much opportunity to really study her surroundings up to this point—what with the not breathing and all—and now she looked around her properly.

They were in a log cabin made up to look like Father Christmas’s snug.

A decorated Christmas tree stood in one corner with presents spilling out from beneath it onto a circular rug in a repeating festive Scandinavian design.

From her position on the sumptuous throne, set against the far wall, she could see a garland-bedecked fireplace to her left, complete with log basket and several knitted stockings hanging from the mantel shelf.

To her right there was a picture window with pretty holly and berry curtains framing a somewhat incongruous view of a forest outside, given that she knew them to be in an old barn.

“This is lovely,” she said, standing up now that her legs had stopped shaking, and turning slowly to take in the framed pictures of reindeers and elves on the walls and the sacks of presents on the floor.

“I guess it’s a few years since you’ve visited.”

“A few.”

“We’ve done a lot to it in that time.”

“So I see,” she said, putting her mug down and picking up a snow globe from the small side table beside the throne, and shaking it.

“Want to see the rest of it?”

“Yes, please.”

She followed Ryan out of the cabin and into, well, into a forest.