A Cold Season (3 page)

His eyes widened. ‘Can we? I’d like that, Mummy.’

Mummy.
It was as though he was a toddler again. Cass grinned, lifted him onto the windowsill, propped a cushion behind his back. ‘Watch the world go by,’ she said. ‘Tell me if anything happens.’ She glanced out of the window. There were no cars, no movement. It was overcast, the colours muted, not even a breeze stirring the branches. Nothing happening at all.
Good
, she thought.
Nothing was good
.

Soon Ben was glued to the TV and Cass set up her computer in the corner. The Web connection worked fine, just as the estate agent had promised. Still, it was a relief.
She’d known mobile phone reception would be poor here, but the Internet was her lifeline. She had a website to develop for her client – her only client so far – and she had to make this work. With Pete gone, she had to take care of Ben: build something for him, a new life for them both.

‘I want to play a game, Mum,’ Ben called out.

She set it up for him, and then returned to the computer screen: there was an email from her client, listing some changes needed for the website. She responded: ‘Will upload site changes for checking ASAP.’ Her client wouldn’t even know she’d moved.

That done, she closed it down; it was Sunday, and work could wait. That was something her father had always insisted on, and she found the habit had stuck.

She looked at Ben, who was sitting on the floor, the controller loose in his lap, staring at the television, his mouth hanging open.

‘Ben, what is it?’ She went to him and saw that his favourite game was on the screen. It was a war game and the ground was littered with rubble and barbed wire. Everything was sepia, the colour of sand.

‘Ben?’

The game had been a gift from his father. At the time Cass had thought it a little old for Ben, but Pete had liked it, and he’d played it with him: for a while the two of them had been soldiers together.

She reached out and smoothed her son’s hair, then took the control pad from Ben’s lap. His lip started to jut out, and she knelt down and hugged him, holding his head tight to her body.

‘Come on, sweetie,’ she said, ‘it’s a beautiful day. Let’s go out and see it, shall we?’

Cass looked back at the mill as they walked up the lane towards the village. The mellow stone suited the dour weather, blending with the surrounding greens and browns. It was good to be outside, breathing in cold, clean air. On their way out of the building it had struck Cass that she didn’t like the walk through the silent mill. She had strained her ears, but still she had heard no sound from any of the other apartments. The crimson carpets swallowed the sound of their footsteps too, so that it felt like no one was there at all.

All of the shops in the village were closed save one, the general store. Cass bought some sweets for Ben. The grey-haired woman at the till was stony-faced; she took Cass’ money in silence and gave the change in silence, only nodding when Cass said goodbye. Outside, Cass exchanged a glance with Ben; they both burst out laughing and she felt a stab of gratitude for the unfriendly woman. Ben offered her a sweet and she took one.

They headed towards the park, which sloped down towards the river. The grass was short-cropped and scabbed with patches of bare earth and at the bottom there was a little playground with some swings, a roundabout and a slide. Empty crisp packets and sweetie wrappings had accumulated under the shrubbery hiding the chattering water, looking as though they were sheltering from rain.

Cass and Ben raced for the swings, and sat there side by side.

‘How do.’ A man’s voice came from behind them.

Cass turned to see an old man emerging from the riverside path. A grizzled black dog followed him through a gap in the bushes. The man had patches of grey hair clinging to his scalp, as though just holding on. He was hunched over against the cold, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His cheeks were red and veined.

Ben jumped from the swing and ran to his side, bending to pet the dog. As Cass made a mental note to talk to him about strangers she was smiling at the same time.

‘You’ll be from t’ mill,’ the man said.

News spread fast. Did the whole village know about them?

‘Bert Tanner,’ he said, ‘from t’ flats.’ He said this as though she should know where the flats were.

‘I’m Cass,’ she said, holding out her hand to shake his. ‘This is Ben.’ They turned and watched Ben stroking the dog, whispering something in its ear. The dog was a squat, stolid thing, greying around the chops. It huffed in Ben’s face and he wrinkled his nose as he smelled its breath.

‘’e’s an owd un,’ the man said, ‘like me. Been ’ere man and boy, I have.’

Cass didn’t know what to say. ‘That’s nice.’

Ben jumped up and ran to the bushes. He thrust a hand underneath, among the litter.

‘Ben, don’t – that’s dirty,’ she started as he turned and held up a faded green tennis ball. It looked well chewed. He held it under the dog’s nose.

‘Captain dun’t chase balls no more, lad.’

Ben threw it anyway and it flew up the slope and rolled
part of the way back. The dog looked up, sniffed, turned its head to Ben and then waddled, tail moving in a slow wag, up the slope. It picked up the ball and then turned as if to say,
Aren’t you coming?

‘Well, I’ll be,’ said Bert. ‘You’ve got the touch, lad.’

He turned to Cass and pointed towards the river. ‘It’s a nice walk, that,’ he said. ‘A long way, mind. It keeps me going. Not that I go out of Darnshaw much.’ He started to tell her where the school was, and the shops, and Cass let him talk. No need to let on that Sally had already pointed them out. They walked together back towards the village. ‘Up there’s the post office. I’m above, if you ever need owt. Just say.’

She smiled, touched. ‘That’s really kind. Thank you, Bert.’

‘And up there’s t’ church.’

He pronounced it ‘chuch’, without the r. Cass followed his gesture and froze.

The church stood almost at the top of the hill, its tower rising against the pale sky. From here it seemed to loom over them, a forbidding presence. But that wasn’t what made her shudder.

‘Tha’s not a churchgoer, then,’ Bert said.

She looked at him. He had very pale eyes, rheumy under their drooping lids.

‘It’s not that,’ she said. ‘We always went when I was a kid. It’s just that it’s the only part of Darnshaw that looks really familiar. Memories, I suppose.’

‘Goose walked over your grave.’

‘Something like that, yes.’

‘Well, anytime you want to go, you’re right welcome. Priest comes ower from Moorfoot every other Sunday. Next week’s his turn.’

Cass started to tell him she didn’t attend any longer, not now, but something in his gaze stopped her and she merely nodded. Ben came chasing up, the green ball in his hand, a sparkle in his eyes.

Bert nodded. ‘We’ll be off. Remember what I said. You ever need owt, come see me. Ower the post office.’

They watched him go, Ben still panting. Her son had been running about more than the dog. Cass glanced back across the quiet park. When they were gone, it would be empty. That was sad. She’d promised Ben children to play with, lots of children, and all they’d found was one old man and a dog.

Still, her son smiled at her, flashing his teeth. ‘Can I keep it, Mum?’ he asked, holding out the grubby spittle-covered tennis ball.

‘Of course you can.’ Cass smiled back at him. She looked up into the sky. It looked completely flat. As she watched, pinprick flakes floated out of it, drifting like tiny fragments of ash.

Ben held out his hand. ‘It’s snowing,’ he said.

Cass craned her head back and let the snowflakes fall on her face. They were so fine she barely felt them land, just felt the chill spread slowly across her skin.

FOUR

The valley was clothed in swathes of mist, a half-erased picture. The snow hadn’t settled, but Cass got Ben’s warmest coat ready anyway. When she woke him he screwed up his face, a nasty-medicine expression, but he didn’t say anything. Monday morning, and he was going to school.

The main road through the village was busier than Cass had yet seen it. Every car had a child in the passenger seat and she barely needed to think about the school’s location, just followed the line. The car park was already full but she managed to fit into an end slot narrowed by an overhanging Land Rover.

‘Sorry.’ A young woman with sleek dark hair waved from the other side of the vehicle. ‘In too much of a rush this morning. I’m Lucy.’

‘I’m Cass. And it’s no problem.’ Cass spotted a young girl peering round the Land Rover’s bonnet and smiled at her while encouraging Ben from the car. She introduced her son.

‘This is Jessica,’ said Lucy. ‘You two will be good friends, I think. Jess, you could watch out for Ben, since he’s new. Why don’t you show him inside?’

‘We have a meeting with Mrs Cambrey first,’ said Cass. ‘But you could play later, couldn’t you?’

The little girl nodded. She was a couple of inches shorter than Ben, and a girl – he didn’t often make friends with girls. Cass saw her son’s lower lip jutting. Well, they’d tried, and who knew? The children might hit it off anyway.

‘Mrs Cambrey’s really nice,’ Lucy said. ‘Well, I’d better get off.’ She watched Jessica walk towards the double doors, then waved before climbing into the Land Rover.

‘Right,’ said Cass, forcing a positive note into her voice. ‘The head sounds great, doesn’t she, Ben? Let’s go.’

The hall was gloomy, even after the greyness of the morning. While Cass was getting her bearings she saw the walls were lined with pictures, bright splashes of colour emerging from the dim light, and she caught the faint smell of poster paint.

They walked past classrooms where children were chatting and removing their coats. The building was single-storey and Cass could see offices at the far end of the hall. One was marked ‘Staff Room’, another ‘Head Teacher’, and beneath that, ‘Mrs Cambrey’.

Cass knocked, and knocked again when there was no response. She leaned closer to the door, trying to hear if there was someone inside.

‘My apologies,’ called out a voice behind her, a man’s voice, smooth and cultured. ‘I’m sorry to keep you. There’s such a lot to organise.’

Cass turned to see a tall man with dark tousled hair and artfully shaved stubble which outlined his slightly hollowed face. He met Cass’ eye, took her hand and squeezed it in his. ‘It’s a little chaotic this morning,’ he said. ‘Do come in.’

He led the way into the office and they sat on either side of a large wooden desk strewn with papers. Cass stared at a desktop sign that said
MRS CAMBREY
.

The man followed her gaze, picked up the sign and dropped it into a drawer. ‘Unfortunately Mrs Cambrey has been called away,’ he said. ‘A family emergency. I’m Mr Remick – Theodore Remick – stepping into the breach.’ He turned. ‘And you must be Ben.’ He stretched out his hand for Ben to shake. Ben stared at it, glanced at Cass, then shook hands and smiled up at Mr Remick.

They ran over a few details – Ben’s progress in his last school, class times, after-school clubs – and Cass thought the teacher quick and efficient. Then he stood and she followed suit. As they left the room Mr Remick turned to Ben once more. ‘You’re going to be in my class,’ he said. ‘I’m sure we’ll get along famously.’

A voice rang out along the hall. ‘Cassandra. Yoo-hoo, Cassandra, come and meet everybody!’

Cass turned to see Sally heading towards her, pulling along a boy of about Ben’s age. She was trailed by a group of women.

‘This is my lady knight in shining armour from the other day,’ Sally said as they drew near. ‘She quite rescued me from the moor.’ Then the woman noticed Mr Remick and something in her face changed. She took Cass’ arm
and pulled her away, her curly hair brushing Cass’ shoulders. ‘Ooh, you lucky thing,’ she said. ‘He’s a fox, isn’t he?’

Cass smothered a smile. She was sure Mr Remick must have heard.

‘Come and meet the girls. This is Helen. Dot. Myra. Girls, this is Cassandra.’

‘It’s lovely to meet you. Actually, my name’s just Cass – it’s short for Cassidy.’

‘Cassidy? Well, I never heard the like,’ said Sally.

‘It comes from—’

‘Like David – David Cassidy.’ Sally’s laugh rang out.

‘You’ve met the new teacher,’ Myra said. She made it sound like an accusation. She was a stocky woman in a flowery dress, with long auburn hair.

‘He’s a dish, isn’t he?’ Sally laughed.

The corner of Myra’s mouth twitched. ‘He’s a blessing.’

‘Quite right,’ said Sally. ‘We’ve been praying for someone like him.’

Helen grinned at her. ‘I’ll bet you have. Lucky cow,’ she said, and they all laughed.

Cass glanced from one to the other.

Sally laughed louder and longer than the others. ‘You’re right, I am. Don’t I know it.’ She grinned at Cass. ‘Teaching assistant,’ she said. ‘And I used to help Mrs Cambrey, so … ’

‘So,’ the others echoed.

‘Of course, this one swooped on him first.’ Sally nodded at Cass.

‘I just had a meeting about Ben. It’s his first day.’ Cass
looked around for her son, but he had already been swallowed up by one of the classrooms. She wasn’t sure which one.

‘He’ll be in Damon’s class,’ said Sally. ‘Damien, more like.’ She spluttered laughter and the others joined in. ‘Well, I must be off – new acquaintances to make and all that. As long as he hasn’t lost his heart to another.’ She looked back at Cass as she went into one of the classrooms. ‘Don’t forget to call in on us some time.’ Then she was gone and the hall fell silent. When Cass turned back to the other women, they were already moving away.

She looked back towards the classroom doors, closed now, and considered peering through the glass panels. But Ben might see her, and Sally might make something of it, maybe embarrass her son on his first day.

After a pause Cass turned, alone, and headed back towards the exit.

The shining door of the mill opened onto silence. Cass started up the stairway, then remembered her empty floor, all the closed doors, and she changed her mind and headed instead through the door that led from the lobby into the ground-floor hall. This hall looked just like the one on her floor, with its red carpet and rows of white doors. The apartments were numbered 1 to 6. Cass walked past each one, listening for any sound from inside, but she heard nothing.