It was snowing. It had been snowing on and off all day. Coming down in heavy white flakes – snow on snow, like the song said, and now at least four inches deep in places. It had rolled in fast enough that it had made the city clean again, like fresh bed sheets smoothed over the stains on a mattress.

After the warmth of the tube, the cold in the air stung Lily’s face like a slap. She picked her way slowly along the side of the pavement, in the crunchy bits of snow that hadn’t been stomped down by other commuters. In the middle of the pavement it had become compacted ice. Treacherous.

Lily was an anxious pedestrian, especially in front of other people. It was something Ollie teased her about. “You’re such a nervous crosser,” he would say, laughing as she waited for the man to go green at the traffic lights, refusing to cross before it did. Going home to Ollie now made her nervous. Shy. Like a child.

She came to the park on the way home, and thought about going around now that the days got dark before five. But it was so much quicker going through, and besides, it was never really dark in London. Lily looked up and saw the great mass of clouds in the sky, reflecting the lights of the city so they looked like big grey cushions, fluffed up by unseen hands. A snowflake landed in her eye and she blinked in pain.

She hunched her shoulders over and slipped through the park, walking around the dip in the path where there was always a puddle. She stepped onto the untouched snow on the grass and it made a happy little scronch noise. Lily looked around carefully and couldn’t see anyone else, so she ran in a little meandering route across the snow. She kicked up little puffs of icy crystal and giggled to herself. She bent down and scooped some up in frozen red fingers and scattered snow through the air, like dusting flour over a rolling pin.

She’d told Ollie that tonight was her work Christmas party, so he wouldn’t go on about her being late home. Instead, she had gone out after work to pick up the last present she needed for him. It had been very intimidating walking into Liberty, a perfectly lit, perfectly perfumed paradise of gloves and coats and handbags, and then a suddenly bright white room full of glass bottles and jewellery, and then a small cave of chocolates and candied fruit. Lily had walked around trying to find the men’s scarves as long as she’d dared before asking someone for help. 

A woman with crisp red lipstick and a smooth blonde bob had indicated the right section, and Lily was cowed by her beauty, and relieved that the woman didn’t walk with her or offer more help. Lily already knew what she wanted: a beautiful mohair and wool blend scarf in giant checked squares of blue and yellow and brown. She’d seen it online and in her hands it was light and soft, but warm. It cost over £200 but it would be worth it to see Ollie so pleased when he unwrapped it. 

And now she was on the way home to be with Ollie again, the Liberty bag a sweet secret tucked into her backpack. She had walked through town holding it and felt that she belonged – that a Liberty bag was a badge of honour in central London. Now she felt giddy. Ollie would be happy to see her get home. He’d make her a cup of hot tea to warm her up and they’d have popcorn and watch a film. Lily blew on her cold fingers and started walking through the park with purpose again. 

But then she felt a prickle on the back of her neck. She turned around. She saw she wasn’t alone. 

A man in a dark puffer jacket was standing a little way off. Lily couldn’t see his face, but he was bald, and very pale. His skin was tinged a sickly colour by a lamp in the corner of the park, which was pooling an unnatural orange light over the snow. It made his shadow very long.

He was watching her. 

Lily turned away from him and started walking. She tried not to speed up, because she didn’t want him to know that she was afraid. 

When she got to the gate on the other side of the park she almost cried, and looked back. The man was walking after her now. She felt a hot mist of panic rise up from her toes and settle in her chest. Adrenaline shot into her veins. She hoped she would see someone else walking the other way, but what if they started following her too? She’d be too embarrassed to ask for help, anyway.

She really didn’t want to do it, but Lily dug around in her bag and found her phone, and called Ollie. He didn’t pick up. She kept walking down the road, on quiet streets, and rang Ollie again. He still didn’t answer. 

When she got to the pub on the corner, with light and noise and people falling out of it, Lily felt safe enough to look back. There was no sign of the man. She exhaled in a rush, then made an effort to breathe normally. Their little split level flat was just over the road. She didn’t want to cry in front of Ollie. 

She opened the front door and slowly unlaced her boots in the tiny mudroom, fumbling, her hands still numb from the cold. But she didn’t want to walk in with her shoes on because that would leave marks on the carpet and Ollie got annoyed at that. There was a thump upstairs, like something falling over. She hung up her coat and scarf, and slid off her rucksack, as she heard footsteps on the stairs coming down from the bedroom. 

Lily went up the tight, narrow flight of stairs to the living room, where they had the eggshell blue floating shelves that they used for fake plants because books would make it look too cluttered, and the dark navy sofas with orange cushions. Ollie was sitting on the long sofa opposite the television, holding the remote. The television wasn’t on. 

“Hello kitten,” he said, smiling at her very sweetly. “I thought you were at your work party tonight. Ros came to drop over some Christmas presents for us.”

Ros was the girlfriend of one of Ollie’s work friends. She was sitting on the other sofa, very far from Ollie, in running leggings and a polo. Her hair was untied and fell in a long dark wave over one shoulder. She’d curled her legs under herself and her trainers were on the floor, near the Christmas tree in the corner. Lily was annoyed that she’d worn them inside.

“That’s very kind,” said Lily, her throat sticking a little. “I’ll go and put the kettle on, shall I?”

“I’m alright thank you,” said Ros. She waved an almost empty glass of white wine. A bottle and another glass were on the coffee table. The table was the same colour as the shelves, to match. They hadn’t used coasters.

Lily nodded silently and went into the kitchen in the next room. She slowly made two cups of tea, eyes unfocused. She brought them back into the front room where Ollie and Ros had been talking in low voices. Lily noticed there weren’t any new presents under the tree.

Ollie looked very handsome, sprawled a little messily across the sofa cushions. “Did you have a good day, kitten?” he asked, taking the cup of tea from her and smiling again.

“I think I’ll be off actually,” said Ros. She started to get up. Lily saw she had bare feet. They were very tanned. Her toes had pale pink varnish on them. Lily found that she’d sprung back, away from Ollie.

“No, don’t,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’m sorry. I think I… I forgot something at work, actually. I left – I should go back out.”

Lily put down her cup of tea and stumbled back downstairs to the mudroom, and put her boots and coat and scarf back on. She hooked her rucksack over her shoulders. She could hear someone moving around upstairs, and then it sounded like Ros giggled. Lily went back outside into the stinging cold and pulled the door shut with a clunk, and walked away without thinking. She didn’t have anywhere to go, but if she went out for a while then it would just be Ollie when she went home again, and that would be okay.

She walked back past the pub, which was still full of people. She wondered if anyone would remember her walking past just a few minutes earlier. Maybe she should get a drink. But that would be weird, someone sitting alone in the pub while everyone else was there with friends. It was too loud in there, anyway.

She waited at the corner, looking back in case Ollie was running after her. But he wasn’t.

Lily kept walking and realised that she had gone back to the park without thinking about it. It looked empty. Taking a deep breath of bitter air that froze in her throat and made her cough, Lily walked into the park and went to a bench in the area that was normally a planted flower garden, with raised beds. The beds were all empty now, but covered in snow so they looked like deep, soft pillows. Lily wondered, if she lay her head on one, what it would feel like.

She scraped some of the snow from the bench and sat down, feeling her thighs grow wet and cold. The snow was still falling and she sat very still, letting it settle on her. If she sat still long enough maybe someone would mistake her for a tree or a bush or a statue, covered in snow. Fresh sheets. She breathed very slowly and imagined drawing her blood inwards to her heart, like a hibernating tortoise.

After a while – she didn’t know how long – Lily heard footsteps crunching through the snow behind her. She knew it wasn’t Ollie, but she didn’t feel afraid.

The man walked up and sat down next to her. She turned to look at him, only just visible in the secondhand light from the street on the other side of the park railings. His puffer jacket was zipped up to his chin. He wasn’t shivering in the cold but he was, she realised, continually moving. Tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. Picking at his jeans. Flexing his shoulders. Up close Lily could see he was young. His head was shaved, roughly, and he had fuzzy stubble over his chin that was almost the same length, so the overall effect was that his head was soft and fluffy all over, like a peach. There was a red graze on one of his cheekbones, like he’d fallen over recently.

He was staring at her with an expression that mixed abject wonder with a profound sadness.

“I love you,” he said. His eyes began to fill with tears. He didn’t catch them as they rolled down his cheeks. “I love you.”

Lily knew that right now, for however long right now would last, he was telling the truth. She turned and fumbled with the zip on her rucksack.

“Happy Christmas,” she said, handing him the bag from Liberty.

The snow kept falling all around them, striking the ground with a soft and terrible violence.