Read A Lesson in the Storm: Season of Desire: Part 1 (Seasons Quartet) for Free Online Page A

or you can stifle it. We’ve got to create a hot heart. That’s the only way you’ll get a decent fire.’
      I stare over at him, still shaking with cold, wondering if he can sense that I’m seething with fury at him.
      Who cares about your stupid fire? It’s your fault we’re here!
      I know in my head that we need the fire and that he’s doing exactly the right things, and he’s doing it to help me. But my heart is racing with ire at our situation.
      He doesn’t seem to expect an answer. Instead, he looks beneath the other plank bed and pulls out a large chest. He opens it easily and whistles. A little of his good humour seems restored as he glances over at me and says, ‘Supplies.’
      As soon as he says it, I realise that I feel empty. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and that was little more than a bowl of a muesli with yoghurt and coffee. It must be hours ago now. I haven’t been thinking at all about how we are going to eat. I feel a vague relief that this problem seems to have been solved – though I’ve no idea what supplies he’s found.
      I doubt it’s sushi, I think bitterly. I’d been planning to go to the sushi bar at the airport, to have a light lunch with a glass of champagne. Now look where I am.
      ‘You know what, this place is actually pretty good,’ he says conversationally. ‘We’ve got a fire going—’ he looks over at where the fire is beginning to crackle now as it takes hold of the wood ‘—we have some food and some water and there’s a pot and a kettle too.’ He gestures at a couple of black items at the side of the hearth.
      I don’t know why but his attempts at optimism only make me feel worse.
      ‘They look disgusting too,’ I snap. ‘You can’t seriously expect me to eat or drink anything out of those. When were they last cleaned? There could have been rats or mice in here!’ I shudder. ‘This is all just too vile for words.’
      He stares over at me, and I can see barely repressed irritation in his face. He’s sitting on the floor, seeming not to care about the dirt there, the wooden chest open in front of him. The snow is gone from his jacket but he looks damp and very cold, though he hasn’t said a word about it. His dark hair is wet from the storm and he’s run his fingers through it, leaving it in black spikes: the effect is almost boyish. But his mouth is tight with disapproval and the blue eyes are glaring at me, slightly hooded with the force of his annoyance, and the way he’s holding himself seems to hint at a great effort to rein it in.
      At last he speaks, his one word dripping with scorn. ‘ What? ’
      ‘You heard me!’ I shoot back. ‘They’re a health hazard! I refuse to touch anything that comes out of them.’
      He gives a short cold laugh and says in an almost drawling voice, the Scottish accent getting more pronounced with every word, ‘A health hazard? That’s priceless, it really is. Shall I tell you what a real health hazard is? Exposure, for one. And there’s hypothermia, thirst and starvation. They tend to do for you a bit quicker than a well-used saucepan, you know? Lucky for you, your risk of succumbing to the first four dangers has just been reduced very significantly. If I were you, I’d take my chances with the risk of an upset tummy. Unless you’d prefer to be out in the storm, alone, freezing to death where at least there’s no risk of food poisoning ?’
      His last words are full of contempt and my spirit flares up as if he’s just poured oil on a dying fire.
      ‘How dare you speak to me like that?’ I shout.
      ‘Are you crazy?’ His eyes crackle with anger now. ‘I would have thought that in this situation you might – just might – start letting go of that spoilt princess act of yours! I’ve always wondered if the way you swan about looking down your nose at everyone is really you, and until now I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. I’ve heard that things haven’t