WINTER WONDERLAND Read Online Free PDF

replacing the old copper with new.’
    ‘Oh but I love that powdery green!’
    ‘Well, have a good look now - it takes about a hundred years to oxidise!’
    Before I can get too upset, Annique directs my attention to a yet more prestigious building … An elegant quadrant with a tall clock tower sporting an iron crown at its peak and, atop that, the flag of Quebec – clear blue with a white cross and four white fleur-de-lys.
    ‘That is our Parliament.’
    ‘Gosh.’ I gasp. ‘And the Carnival grounds are right beside that?’
    She nods. ‘The Carnival is good for the city. For tourism but also for morale. Something to look forward to after Christmas. You can’t be pinning all your hopes on summer coming here – it’s too long of a wait!’ She laughs.
    ‘I think that’s such a good idea,’ I tell her. ‘It’s what we all want – something to look forward to.’
    ‘Well, you can complain about the cold weather and hide inside or you can get out and enjoy all the advantages of it – the skiing, snow-shoeing, tobogganing … Oh!’ She reaches into her bag. ‘I must give you this.’
    She hands me a tiny snowman figurine or ‘effigy’, designed to dangle from your coat zipper.
    ‘You need to wear this all the time, so you can come and go as you please at the Carnival.’
    I study him closer – he has a floppy red hat, a jazzy waist sash, a big smile and legs …
    ‘Well, he has to be able to ice-skate and dance … ’ Annique reasons.
    ‘But of course.’
    ‘This is Bonhomme,’ she explains. ‘He is the ambassador of the Quebec Winter Carnival. You will meet the real version later – he is seven foot tall!’
    When she tells me he’s been representing the Carnival for fifty-seven years, I ask how they always manage to find a man that tall to wear the suit.
    She looks scandalised. ‘This is not a man in a costume. Bonhomme is Bonhomme.’
    I look around to see if any executive children are eavesdropping – is that why she’s being so protective? But no, she is sincere – Bonhomme is Bonhomme. And woe betide anyone who tells you different.
    ‘Is it okay if I take some pictures?’ I go from window-panel to window-panel, trying to capture every detail from the old-fashioned globe streetlamps to the festive clusters of fir trees until, finally, my gaze comes to rest on Annique.
    She really is very nice. And stylish.
    ‘I like your earrings!’ I say, noticing the dainty charms hanging from her fine gold hoops.
    ‘ Merci! ’
    ‘And your boots.’
    And your metabolism, I think to myself as I take in both her naturally slim physique and the pile of pastries she has amassed.
    ‘We will walk a lot today.’ She smiles. ‘We need fuel!’
    I’m halfway to the breakfast bar when I turn back. ‘Mind if I take a snap of your outfit to show my friend?’
    She obliges by getting to her feet and striking a Giselle-esque pose.
    ‘Thank you!' I say, sending it directly to Laurie with the caption: ‘This is what I’m up against.’
    And then I stuff a whole croissant in my mouth, cross my eyes and send that self-portrait with the title, ‘Who would you choose?’
    Naturally this is precisely when Gilles walks in. I dart behind the glass shelving to give myself a chance to dislodge the croissant and have a discreet coughing fit as the pastry flakes catch in my throat.
    All I can see of him is a partial side view. But I have a clear line on Annique. As I busy myself with the coffee machine, I watch her fluff her hair and then rise up to meet him, kissing him on both cheeks. He says something and she reaches up to give him an all too lingering caress of his face.
    The coffee cup in my hand starts rattling on its saucer.
    They’re together. She is the reason that he said, ‘I can’t do this.’
    He’s already doing it with her.
    Or is he? Am I being paranoid?
    Perhaps they are old friends or maybe he had a stray snowflake on his chin.
    And then they look in my direction, giving me a little wave. I