I first spied the snow when I pa.s.sed through a place called Coa.r.s.egold one racetrack curve in the road and the landscape made a startling switch from spring greens to winter wonderland. I guess I should have given more credence to the promise of Sleigh Rides ten miles back.

Now snowflakes are lightly tickling the windscreen and I can't help but smile it doesn't seem real: every frisky pine tree branch is heaped with two inches of sparkling sugar, the surrounding hills have become mounds of desiccated coconut and the compacted ice on the roads is offering the perfect surface for serving vodka. Even though I'm alone I find myself sighing 'It's all so beautiful!' out loud, and wondering if this is what life would be like inside a snow-globe.

My pessimistic alter ego has a rather different take: 'We're going to die!' she howls. She's got a point the roads are becoming more randomly squiggly, the drops off to the side more sheer and the snowfall is now so vigorous and enlarged, it feels like the car is being pelted with flour bombs. I've been aware of a pick-up truck bearing down on me for some time and decide I'm going to have to pull over and let him pa.s.s. Again the shrill voice has other ideas: 'Are you crazy? We need to keep them behind us so when we skid into oblivion they'll see us go and be able to call for help!'

'Jesus!' I gasp as the truck pa.s.ses me, swerving perilously close to the cliff edge. I wonder if the driver's loss of concentration had anything to do with the sight of my very un-wilderness-friendly ensemble? I must look like a lost drag queen in a Christmas special. Perhaps I should put on my hazard warning lights just to prepare people. Not that there's another car for miles ... I shiver again. I'm freezing! I suppose I should be grateful I didn't end up in the skimpy slip from Cat on a Hot Roof. Although I wouldn't mind a Liz Taylor wig right now that mat of synthetic fibers would at least keep my head warm. And a hot tin roof never sounded so appealing.

Wondering exactly when I should become hysterical with fear, I crawl onwards, blinking at the white eternity. I have no idea how much further it is to go and I daren't take my eyes off the road for a second to check the map. I'm going to have to stop. And I should probably call Elliot. I pa.s.s a sign (hoorah!) for Wawona and roll into the next available turnout. Okay. Let's see if I can find where I am. Moccasin, Bootjack, Cedar Crest, my finger traces the route ah, here we are ... Wawona. Nearly, anyway. The windows are all misting up so I switch off the engine. I'd say there's at least another 30 miles to go to the camp. At minus 2mph that should take ... oh lawks, it doesn't bear thinking about. I reach for my phone and notice with alarm that the battery has died. Naturally the charger is in my suitcase. Aaaaghhh! There's nothing else for it - I'm just going to have to keep going.

I turn on the ignition. Nothing. I try again. No response. My heart starts to pound. This is serious.

'No. No. Nooooooooooooo!' I wail, trying to push away thoughts of Elliot discovering my frozen corpse days from now I can just see him trying to remove my rigid body from the car only to have my arm snap right off in his hand. Not a good look. Have to live.

My only hope is a pa.s.sing Samaritan but it's not likely anyone is even going to notice me: the car is blending too well with the scenery. If only it was red.

Hang on. I'm red. Red and sparkly. A human flare. I'm going to have to try and flag someone anyone down. I fling open the car door and then slam it shut immediately. It's perishing out there! Okay. Think of a plan. I'll wait until a car comes in view and then leap out at it. But then I'll probably kill them as well as me. Oh G.o.d!

I try the ignition again. Dead.

Okay. Mind over matter. I'm eating soup. Spicy Thai Tom Ka soup. In a woolly jumper. Boiling! In one swift move I leap from the car and slam the door behind me, trying to let as little icy air sneak into the car as possible. Now what?

I pace. Not quite as fast as I would like as my train drags in the snow, holding me back. I decide I'll just have to jog on the spot not easy in stilettos ... So I flap my arms around. And then I break into the We're Just Two Little Girls from Little Rock routine. Twice. For a moment I'm not scared. This is fun. Surreal. Cold. But fun. I'm mid-way through the Jane Russell gym solo Anyone Here for Love? when a black jeep swings into the turnout behind my car. Savior in the house! I scuttle over to the tinted window, which duly lowers to reveal a broad-shouldered thirty-something male behind the wheel. I can't really see his face beneath the peak of his baseball cap but I think I may have found a Tony Curtis chin for Zo.

'Everything okay?' he enquires.

I don't know what I expected him to say but surely, considering the circ.u.mstances, he could have done better than that?

'Miss?' he pursues.

The alt.i.tude must be affecting my att.i.tude because I find myself cooing: 'Yeah everything's fine, I've just been booked by Park Services to entertain the motorists along this particularly monotonous stretch of road.'

After a millisecond's hesitation he shows me his Matt Damon dentistry courtesy of a dirty great grin. 'D'you do requests?'

'No but I have a few!' I shiver, partly from the cold, partly from the s.e.xy curve of his mouth.

'I take it you need a ride?'

'A ride. A floor-length faux-fur coat. A pair of yeti boots and something hot and delicious to eat,' I suggest.

'Grab your stuff and get in,' he manfully instructs me.

I don't need telling twice. As I go to dart off he calls after me: 'Do you need a hand with anything?'

'No, I'm going to leave the dead body in the trunk for now!' I holler back and then quickly check to make sure I haven't started an avalanche. Nope. All is well. I grab my handbag and the car keys and then hop up into the pa.s.senger seat of his jeep, trying in vain to keep the thigh-high split sealed at least to knee level.

'I'm Joel,' he says, offering me a warm hand.

'Lara,' I tell him, enjoying the thawing sensation I experience from his touch.

His car is toasty-warm without being an eyeball roaster and better still he reaches back behind the pa.s.senger seat and hands me an XL grey fleece.

'Here, you can put this on if you like,' he says taking the first corner a little swifter than I would have liked, especially with only one hand on the wheel.

'Do you have anything in red?' I query. 'Eyes on the road!' I screech as his withering look lingers too long on me. 'I was kidding, sheesh!'

I pull on the fleece, zipping it up to my nose and pulling the cuffs down over my mottled purple claws. Something about this stranger makes me feel curiously playful but I don't want to scare him he has potentially saved my life, after all so after I've explained where I'm going, I decide to sit quietly.

I can feel his eyes repeatedly flitting to me. Finally he sighs, 'I know I'm not going to get a straight answer but where've you come from?'

'LA,' I reply, keeping it simple.

'Figures. Is this what you starlet types are wearing to go hiking this season?'

'Yeah, these heels make great crampons,' I tell him.

He chuckles delightedly.

'Also implements of death,' I threaten, removing one so I can mock-skewer his head.

'Okay, I won't ask any more. You just sit there and be a nice little hitch-hiking, breakdown psycho or whatever you are.'

I smile contentedly the plummet-to-your-death scenery looks a lot less threatening now I have a traveling companion.

'So what's your story?' I turn to face Joel.

He shrugs. 'Nothing nearly so intriguing as yours. I'm just coming in for a friend's wedding. Thought I'd make the most of the trip, stay an extra night and get a bit of climbing in before kick-off.'

'Are you a mountaineer?' I gasp.

'Well I couldn't make a career of it but yeah, I like to climb. It's the bride who's the real El Cap freak-'

'El what?' I interrupt.

'EI Capitan, you must have heard of it world's largest granite monolith?'

I look blank.

'Ninety-six per cent sheer rock-face ... You've seen all those Ansel Adams photographs, right?'

I make a noncommittal grunt and, in a bid to distract him from my ignorance, ask if he's climbed it.

'Sure! Jen and I used to race each other up!'

'Is she an ex of yours?' I say, getting onto the more important details.

He nods. 'We were together a year that's pretty hardcore for me!'

'So what are the odds of you yelling, "Don't marry him, marry me!" in church?'

'That's not going to happen,' he smiles. 'We ran our course.'

Hmmm. Must be nice to feel something is done, that you've had your fill, I think to myself. I'm always leaving the table wanting more.

'You know, she originally wanted to get married halfway up, hanging from a ledge,' Joel continues.

'Can you do that?'

'Oh yeah! But her ninety-year-old grandmother wasn't keen.'

'Funny that,' I frown. 'So where are they having the ceremony now?'

'At the Awahnee Hotel. Do you know it?'

I shake my head.

'It's this great old mountain lodge, built in the Twenties. The decor is all Native American.'

'Sounds cool.'

'Some people think it's cheating you know, coming out to the wilderness and then staying in a luxury hotel-but come the end of the day, I like my creature comforts without the creatures!'

'Oh me too! I'm supposed to be staying in a tent tonight but the thought of it in this weather ...' I shudder.

'Are you visiting someone?'

'Yes,' I nod, swallowing back my tale of unrequited love. I'm not quite sure if I'm keeping schtum to protect him from girltalk babble or because I want to seem available because I fancy him. Interesting ...

Joel waits a few seconds and then says, 'Is that all you're prepared to say on the subject?'

'Not necessarily,' I squirm, trying to focus on the river, racing to our left. For a moment I'm transfixed by the icy-green froth thrown up as it bounces over the rocks in its path, but I don't know how much longer I can hold out.

'How about we play twenty questions?' he suggests.

'You can have five,' I allow.

'Okay but you have to tell the truth,' he insists.

'Go ahead,' I say, feeling a little wary.

'Is it a guy you're staying with?'

'Yes.'

'Thought so. Boyfriend?'

'No.'

'But you want him to be your boyfriend?'

I hesitate. Am I ruining my chances however microscopic if I say yes?

'Yes or no?' he pressures.

'Yes,' I blurt.

'But there's an obstacle of some kind?'

'Yes,' I confirm.

'A big one?'

'About ten stone, I reckon.'

'A-ha! Ten of your British stones would be 140 of our American pounds so we're talking a person here. Most likely a woman.'

'Do you want a yes or no to that?' I check.

'No wait up, I have to use my last question wisely. Is she here in Yosemite, too?'

'No.'

'Are you interested in making him jealous?'

'That's six.'

'Actually that's a different kind of question altogether. I'm offering you my services ...' He gives me a sly look.

I study him a little closer. If you were looking for a guy to make another man jealous he would do nicely strong physical presence, confident manner, cool clothes, big car. He's perfect.

'It wouldn't work.' I shake my head.

'Hey, I can make a pretty attentive suitor-slash-love rival you know.' Joel looks put out.

'He just doesn't see me that way. Whatever you did, it wouldn't change his mind.'

'But that's what you're here for, right?' he ventures.

I can't deny it.

'Is this' he waves a hand over my spangles 'get-up an attempt to change his image of you? Or is this how you normally dress?'

I can't help but laugh. Joel is being so sweet and patient with me.

'If I had something else to change into I would,' I tell him. 'But my suitcase is still at LA airport.'

'Well, I can easily lend you something but personally I think you should rock up and give him the works you never know.' Joel winks.

I shake my head. 'He'll just laugh.'