I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, the scent of cinnamon and mulled wine floating upwards, and watched the snow falling outside. There was already a thick blanket of white covering the outside world, although the snow had eased up into a steady stream of delicate flakes. I took a sip of mulled wine and let it warm me from the inside out.
“Picturesque, isn’t it?” Julia spoke from behind me. “A proper white Christmas.”
“It is,” I agreed, turning to smile at her.
Julia’s house was like something out of a magazine; her open plan living room and kitchen was wood-panelled and tastefully decorated, even with all the Christmas wreaths and fairy lights. A large, red-brick fireplace stood proudly in the middle of the room, the open flame dancing hypnotically and making the whole place cosy and warm.
“Thank you again for having me round,” I settled down on the sofa, nestled amongst the many blankets.
“Don’t worry about it. I’d much rather have you here than either of us being alone for Christmas,” Julia’s eyes crinkled as she smiled at me. She was older than me but carried it extremely well; there was an elegance to her features and a self-confidence that I admired.