Cosy Christmas ✓

3 / oh christmas tree

At six o'clock in the morning, Connor woke up when he felt the mattress dip beside him as Duke stood, stretching out his paws with a whine of a yawn. He jumped off the bed with a thump and Connor rolled over with a sigh, his hand on his forehead as he slowly introduced himself to the day. Six days until Christmas. That was the first thought that entered his mind, and his heart dropped to his stomach like a brick to the ground. Six days in which he was resigned to helping out a vastly pregnant virtual stranger who could hardly walk, six days in which he would be forced to come face to face with every element of Christmas that he hated.

It was his own fault. He knew that. He had offered, in part to clear the guilty conscience that overwhelmed him, and in part to help out someone in need. Which part dominated, he wasn't sure, but he knew that Cass was wrong. It was his duty to help out Posy, not just the result of a crush: he had taken away her freedom, he told himself, and the least he could do was give it back.

Suppressing a yawn, he dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom, refusing to turn the light on when it was still dark outside. He was a naturally early riser and it didn't bother him to be getting up before the sun, but the bathroom light was blinding and he left it off as he went about his morning business. As he brushed his teeth, he could hear Duke padding around in the hallway outside, waiting for his morning walk.

Today, Connor knew better. He had Cass's hat and gloves waiting with his scarf downstairs, and a relatively new pair of wellies that wouldn't let the dew seep through to his socks. He had learnt his lesson after last night, when he had peeled off damp socks before bed to find that his toes were chilly and wrinkled, too distracted by the Posy situation to think about his wet feet.

At six twenty, Connor buttoned his coat up to his neck and tied his scarf in a knot, pulling down the thick hat to cover his ears and yanking on the wellies over a long pair of socks into which he had tucked his tracksuit bottoms. Prepared for the cold that would increase as soon as he opened the front door, he clipped on Duke's lead: he wasn't taking any chances this time.

There was no-one around. The village was silent as they walked along the pavement, and Connor's eyes gravitated towards Posy's house as he passed it, but every curtain was pulled and no light seeped through. She was asleep, he imagined. Rather, he hoped. It was far too early to be up, and she had been so shattered last night that he hoped she would let herself rest. The smallest smile found its way onto his lips, but then Cass jumped into his mind and he got rid of it as he imagined her chastising him for even wanting to befriend Posy. Although he hadn't seen a ton of his sister since he had left home, she still seemed to know him inside out.

The only problem with going for a long walk with no-one else around, the sky still dark and murky before the sun rose, was that it gave Connor time to think. He had a tendency to get lost in thought, drowning in the maze that was his mind as he tried to navigate a minefield of memories that popped up when he was least expecting it. Though he enjoyed time alone, relishing in his own company, he sometimes found that he was drained by his own brain. Whenever he found himself in a moment of peace, at one with himself, he would be bombarded by snippets of thoughts like newspaper clippings, fluttering into his mind until they overflowed and he couldn't wade through the piles of jumbled remembrances.

As though Duke sensed Connor digging himself into a hole, he barked and ran for a stick, bounding back to his owner and dropping it at his feet. Connor bent down to throw it, aiming only as far as he could see. The light was creeping in, the horizon slowly growing a little brighter, though it was still a rainbow of greys. Duke bounded after the stick, every part the typical dog in his love for a game of fetch. Throughout his childhood, Connor had had a Labrador that held no interest whatsoever in such dog-like activities, except for the occasional squirrel chase.