Dead of Winter

31 Winter 1987

‘Here.’

Milla lit a cigarette, then pushed the ashtray across the coffee table before sinking back against the sofa cushions.

Laura had mastered the art of lighting her cigarette, maintaining a film-star air of cool and taking something that resembled a drag. In fact, she simply held the smoke in her mouth for a few seconds before blowing it out. Milla could probably see right through her, but didn’t say anything. That was one of the things Laura liked about Milla – she didn’t judge.

‘I’ve been thinking about this business with Jack and Iben,’ Milla said.

‘Yes?’

Laura sat up a little straighter. The knot in her stomach made its presence felt, as it always did when the subject was raised. They’d talked about Jack and Iben quite a bit over the past few days. Milla was a good listener – something else Laura liked about her.

‘Iben knew you were keen on Jack. She knew you’d kissed down on the pontoon in the summer.’

‘Mmm.’ Laura took another fake drag.

‘And she still got together with him. She didn’t care how you felt, she exploited the fact that you weren’t here. Your best friend.’

‘Mmm.’ The knot hardened.

‘I’ve seen the way Jack looks at you,’ Milla went on. ‘He might be with Iben, but it’s obvious he still thinks about you.’

‘Is it?’ Laura tried not to sound too eager.

Milla clapped her hands.

‘I know! Let’s arrange a party, make sure Jack and Iben are there. I’ll do your makeup and your hair, and you can borrow some of my clothes. You’ll look gorgeous, I promise. Like Baby at the end of Dirty Dancing. Jack will realise he’s chosen the wrong girl.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Absolutely!’

Milla stubbed out her cigarette in the big glass ashtray.

‘Tomas and Peter will help – we’re all on your side. What do you say?’

The thought was exciting, but a part of her still wanted to say no. She and Iben were friends, in spite of everything. Or rather – had been friends. Because just as Milla had pointed out, it was Iben who’d destroyed everything. Iben who had sacrificed their friendship to get what she wanted. To win . . .

‘When?’ Laura asked.

Milla grinned at her. ‘Thirteenth of December – Lucia.’