# Christmas in White Swallow

## Chapter 1 - Let it snow!

_I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but think of this as a Christmas movie you might find on Hallmark, with an extra helping of cum and golden showers’ warm glow. Merry Christmas!_

The afternoon sun painted the snow-covered fields on the side of the motorway a pinkish-yellow hue. Anders was sitting in the front of the car, next to Ursula: his driver. Jan, his friend and trusted PR man, was at the back; papers scattered on the seat beside him, and the tablet resting on the legs he’d somehow managed to cross. They were traveling from Aberglide to Darwent after a week spent at the _International Conference of Progressive Parties_. Theirs was a small delegation of five, but the others had already left; Anders Lange instead, Norwald’s potential new Prime Minister had been invited by the President of Berven to her residence in the capital. Anders was a rising star and, as the potential PM of his small alpine country, as well as a politically likeminded person she thought it a good idea to start cultivating their relationship whilst he was already in the country. For the first time in Norwald’s long history, the left was predicted to win the next election, no small feat in one of Europe’s most conservative nations.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Jan had slapped his hand against Anders’ headrest.

“Good news I gathered…?” it couldn’t be otherwise, surely. Anders knew that Jan had been impatiently waiting to read the latest polls, but despite his PR’s obvious excitement he couldn’t allow to get himself carried away.

“We are at 37%, two points up and our allies at 15% altogether”

“Which polling company though?” Anders knew that DTT always gave them better numbers than the more reliable DEMO

“DTT, still…” Sometimes Jan found it hard to keep up with his friend’s caution.

“How long before we are getting DEMO’s numbers?”

“Five minutes Prime Minister” Jan knew that Anders didn’t like being called Prime Minister, superstitious that it would bring bad luck to the election campaign, but sometimes he just couldn’t resist.

“Don’t say that! You’ll jinx the campaign, we still have a month.”

“Sorry; _Anders_” Jan didn’t really mean it: he enjoyed teasing his old friend, occasionally jolting him out of his comfort zone.

Anders didn’t want to allow himself to believe that he could soon become the head of government of his beloved country. At 35, this would make him the youngest PM ever and the first from the left. His dream was to usher in a new era for Norwald, a small country that already punched above its weight on the international stage. Anders knew that Norwald offered much more than its financial markets and its robust banking system. He wanted to spark a green revolution and bring about changes in civil society that would put his country on par with the most progressive nations.

Ursula slowed the car: flashing electronic signs were urging drivers to be careful, warning them of a sudden change in the weather and possible black ice on the road. Confirming the accuracy of those panels, slate coloured clouds from the west had moved over the sun until it completely disappeared behind their dark curtain. Snowflakes began to fall, tentatively at first, then turning into white vortexes.

“Ok, here we go, DEMO’s numbers are coming!” Jan’s enthusiasm was contagious and was immediately followed by another slap on Anders’ headrest “I told you so! DEMO puts us 37.5% and our allies at 16%, even better than DTT. See?” He passed Anders the tablet.

“Okay, okay, I believe you! But we have to keep working, we can’t afford to be complacent.” He handed back the tablet. The conference had been demanding: meetings lasting very late in the night followed by early mornings starts, and during the week Jan’s presence had been exactly what he needed to keep his energy levels up; he was the talking equivalent of a cup of coffee. But on that afternoon Anders didn’t have the will to keep up with him.

So instead, he looked ahead, at the snowflakes that had begun to blanket the motorway. They reminded him of another snowfall years before, and now that he thought about it, maybe it had happened on the very same date.

* * *

_Ten years earlier_

Both he and Jan were studying in the UK, Anders Political Science at St Helen’s, Scotland, and Jan Journalism and Media at the prestigious Camford House in the university town of Sandsbury. They were both in their mid twenties and in the final year of their respective master’s degrees. They’d known each other forever: same kindergarten, elementary school, and so on until university, when they found themselves apart for the first time. Apart, but always in touch: they both had visited their respective universities several times, and on that snowy occasion, it was Jan who had invited Anders to spend a few days with him before they’d fly back together to Norwald for the Christmas break. Jan’s roommate had left early, so Anders, whose course had already finished for the holidays, could stay with him.

Jan had come out to Anders when they were 16, actually, he hadn’t really come out: he had simply confirmed what he had never tried to hide. He wasn’t one to be put off by the conservative attitude of his fellow countryfolk and he lived accordingly. Quite the precocious teen, he would report his adventures to his friend, who listened with amazement and a little envy.

Eventually it was Jan who had wrung the truth out of Anders: he knew his best friend almost better than Anders knew himself, and one afternoon he simply said to him: “You know, Anders, it’s time you started being you.” He didn’t have to add anything else for his best friend to open up and confide in him.

They were so different! And that’s what made their friendship even stronger. While Jan lived his sexuality fearlessly, Anders had opted for a more discreet approach; his encounters were few and far between, mostly in cruising areas, with older men where the anonymity was guaranteed. Things had changed in Scotland, at least in frequency, but Anders still preferred to satisfy his impulses in the fleeting secrecy of nameless encounters. He had always felt he was born to go into politics, and it was through politics that he wanted to change the lives of his community for the better. But to do that, he had to get elected, and he didn’t think the average Norwaldian would be ready to vote for an openly gay man.

It had been an early, cold winter. Sandsbury wasn’t used to seeing so much snow, but it suited the town: with its narrow cobblestone streets and higgledy piggledy houses. Night fell early, and a warm light spilled out from the shops all dressed up for Christmas. That evening Jan had told Anders to join him at the university pool: Jan being Jan, he was obviously a member of a wide range of societies, from the am-dram group to the Knitting Bees to the Sharks swimming team. As a Shark, from time to time, he had taken on the job of locking up the pool at night.

Anders had stopped to buy some cans of beer, which he’d stored in a small cooler bag. When he reached the pool, the last swimmers were leaving the building, and Jan was waiting for him in the lobby wrapped in a blue bathrobe. Once everyone was out, Anders slipped inside and changed into the red swimming trunks he’d bought for the occasion.