EXT. HENRY BENNET’S HOUSE - BACKYARD - LATE AFTERNOON
Thomas walks around the side of the house.
At the far end of the yard, Elin lies in the snow. Thomas stops, simply looking at her for a moment as flakes settle on her coat and hair.
THOMAS: It looks comfortable.
ELIN: The snow is perfect.
THOMAS: It’s been years since I’ve done this.
ELIN: I’ve always liked it.
They watch the snow fall in the fading daylight.
THOMAS: It makes you feel… grounded.
THOMAS: I brought biscuits. Would you like one?
He offers her a small stack of biscuits wrapped in a cloth napkin. She takes one.
ELIN: Were you planning to eat all of those yourself?
THOMAS: They’re very, very good.
ELIN: I must admit, you’re right.
THOMAS: Eleanor’s biscuits have become a Christmas tradition.
They eat their biscuits. They each take a second one.
ELIN: No wonder Bennett never shared the parcels she sent him.
THOMAS: I tried your ladoos.
ELIN: Did you enjoy them?
THOMAS: Very much. The children were making short work of them.
ELIN: Then there’ll be more biscuits for us.
They lie side by side in silence, as the snow settles on them.
ELIN: Can you still see me?
He turns his head. She is nearly covered in snow.
THOMAS: You look like a snowman.
She shakes the snow from her skirts.
ELIN: Close your eyes. The snowman has some dignity left.
Thomas struggles to his feet and offers her a hand.
He pulls her up. She rises awkwardly, tangled in her heavy skirts.
They brush the snow from their clothes. Thomas reaches behind her, brushing the flakes from her back and the train of her dress.
