A Cold Season (4 page)

She retraced her steps, and this time as she passed each door she knocked softly. Still nothing. When she reached
the apartment below hers, she rested on the handle while listening and it moved under her hand.

She took hold and pressed. There was a click.

Cass peered back down the hall, but she was still alone. She stared at the brass 6, then pushed the door open with one hand while knocking with the other. Her lips formed a hello, but somehow she didn’t make the sound; the mill’s silence had swallowed her voice.

Cass saw at once she needn’t have bothered knocking: the apartment was not just empty, but unfinished. The floor was nothing but bare wooden panels and she saw why it was so cold. There was no glass in the windows, nothing to stop the biting air flooding in, nor were the walls any hindrance; wooden studwork sketched out where the rooms would be, but no plasterboard covered them. Cass could see the bundled wires inside, and sockets hanging loose on the floor.

She crossed to the window, her feet echoing on the boards, and looked out. The digger was still parked outside. Its cab was empty. She glanced at her watch: almost ten o’clock on a Monday morning and the builders had not come.

She looked down and saw something on the floor: half-buried in a heap of dust and wood shavings was a child’s doll. She picked it up and dusted it off. Two pieces of cloth had been cut into a roughly human shape and stitched together, but it was a sorry-looking thing, the fabric stained and mildewed. It reminded Cass of a gingerbread man. Its hair was a few strands of wool and its face was drawn on. Scrawled lines suggested a top and a skirt.
Cass held it closer to her face; it had a peculiar smell. It could be years old, some mill-worker’s doll, maybe, but it didn’t quite look like that. The face appeared to have been drawn on using a felt-tip pen.

She looked down again, and saw another shape, smaller than the other. It looked a bit like a boy. It wore a T-shirt and shorts.

Cass grimaced and dropped the doll. Her fingertips felt tainted by the dust.

There was no sound from the apartments on the second floor, or from any of the penthouses. Cass tried the handles too, growing bolder and pushing at the doors, longing to see the views from the top floor of the mill, but she didn’t find any that would open.

When she returned to her own floor Cass found a newspaper had been pushed partway under the door of Number 10. She stopped and looked at it. Odd that someone had come up here to deliver it when there were mailboxes on the ground floor. She went to the door and knocked.

She waited. No one came. Cass listened at that door too, and heard nothing; they must be out.

There was no answer from any of the other apartments on her floor either.

She thought back to the conversation she’d had with the estate agent. ‘Number 12 is free,’ he’d said as though this was a sudden discovery and she should snap it up before anyone else found out. As though the mill was full to bursting.

She remembered the scratching noise she’d heard in the night and shivered, pushed the thought away, opened her own door and went to fire up the computer, ignoring the sense of emptiness at her back.

There was another email from her client – more work Cass hadn’t expected, but that was good; she could charge extra. She started on the website changes, moving pictures and changing set-ups, mentally ticking off the items as she sank into the work. Finally she uploaded the files and sent an email: ‘All done. Hope you like it. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.’

She sat back and rubbed her eyes, then stood, banishing the stiffness from her joints, and turned.

The world outside the window was white.

Cass exclaimed and went for a closer look.

The car park was covered over, maybe an inch deep in snow. The hillsides were white, and so was the sky; the flakes that filled the air were fat and white and drifted lazily down, settling on everything. Snow had caught in the treetops, swelling each branch. Only a flash of yellow remained where the digger stood. The world had turned monochrome.

She thought of Ben and cursed under her breath. At least he had his thickest coat with him, the red one.

But the road
. Cass traced the journey to school in her mind: the main road headed straight through the valley, running more or less flat through the village. The road down to the mill, though, that could be treacherous. She took a deep breath. She had never thought of it before, hadn’t checked what access would be like. Still, it didn’t
matter, not really – she could work anywhere. And she could walk Ben to school if the roads got too difficult.

Cass looked out of the window. Whatever problems it brought, the snow was beautiful. A memory came to her, startling in its vividness. Cass and her mum and dad, walking together in the snow, back when such a thing was possible. Cass wore a frothy white dress under her coat and she twirled, laughing, partly because snow was dancing around her hair and partly because she knew the other children would be jealous. She opened her mouth and tasted snowflakes on her tongue.

Then she looked up and saw the church. Her father turned and—

Cass frowned. She didn’t want to remember what followed, when things became stern and severe and joyless; only the fun of them being together, all of them laughing, still a family, before Cass went into the church.

Of course, she hadn’t been called Cass back then.

FIVE

Fresh snow spread away from the mill’s crimson door. It was pristine, innocent of footprints. No one could have been in or out of the mill in the last few hours, and Cass wondered once again about her mysterious neighbour in Apartment 10.

Her car was the only vehicle parked by the door. Cass brushed snow from its headlights, then the mirrors and windows. The snow darkened her sleeves and turned her hands red and tingling with cold. Her face too was stinging by the time she slipped behind the wheel and turned the key.

The engine made a rough sound, the geriatric cough of a lifelong smoker.

Cass swore, pumped the accelerator and tried again. More empty spluttering, then the engine fired. Cass ran the heater for a while, holding her fingers in front of the vents. She promised herself she’d wear gloves next time.

She put it in reverse. The car juddered, and the wheels
spun. Cass eased off on the accelerator and it started to move, rocking over the snow, then it slid sideways. In the rear-view mirror Cass could see the lane heading steeply up the hill to the main road. Too steeply. She sighed, took the car out of reverse and eased forward, back into what she’d already come to think of as her space. Her watch read 3.15 p.m.

Cass jumped out of the car, slammed the door and hurried up the hill.

Her calf muscles ached by the time she reached the school, and her feet were soaked. A few kids were still in the yard, throwing snowballs and giggling. They were decked out in scarves and hats and boots. Cass’ heart sank. Ben’s boots were still packed away in a box somewhere.

Then Cass saw the stand-in headmaster, Mr Remick, by the door. Judging by the white patches on his coat, he’d been entering fully into the spirit of things. Either that or some of the children were bolder than she might have expected to find in a quiet part of the world like this. He waved at her.

‘Sorry I’m—’

‘No need, no need. We’ve been having a wonderful time. It’s not altogether how I imagined my first day, of course.’

‘I don’t suppose Ben expected this either.’ They smiled at each other and Cass saw that Mr Remick’s eyes were blue, the colour strong and clear. ‘Where is he?’

‘He’s waiting with Mrs Spencer.’

Cass raised her eyebrows.

‘You met her earlier today, I believe. Sally Spencer.’ He grinned. ‘You can’t miss her.’

‘Oh. Of course.’ Cass laughed in spite of herself.

‘Sally’s keeping him occupied with some drawing. I hope you don’t mind, Mrs—’

‘Cass.’

‘I hope you don’t mind, Cass, but I took the liberty of asking Mrs Spencer if she wouldn’t mind running you both home. Just in case you had any difficulty. I imagine the lane to the old mill can be treacherous.’

‘It is,’ said Cass reluctantly. She didn’t want to ask Sally for help, but the thought of Ben walking home without any boots … She should have been more prepared. And they had helped Sally get back from the moors, after all.

Then she thought of something. ‘I think Sally’s having car trouble.’

‘Oh? She didn’t mention it – it must be all fixed, I think. She said it was no problem.’

‘I’ll drop you off.’

They turned to see Lucy, the woman with the Land Rover, standing behind them. ‘It’s on my way.’

‘It’s fine, thank you,’ said Mr Remick. ‘We have everything under control.’

‘But Sally lives in the other direction.’ Lucy turned to Cass. ‘You can jump in the Landy. Jess is all ready – I just popped back for her scarf.’

‘That’s really kind of you,’ Cass said. As she spoke Ben appeared at the doorway, his face pale. He came to his mother’s side and stood without speaking. Cass felt an
urge to bend and hug him tight, but she resisted. Potential playmates might be watching; it was too easy for the new boy to become a victim. Instead she rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

‘Great,’ said Mr Remick. ‘Thank you, Lucy.’ He leaned towards Cass and his expression became warm. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said, and she almost thought she could feel his breath on her cheek.

The kids sat in the back of the Land Rover without speaking while Lucy and Cass chatted. Lucy was from the next village, she said, a few miles along the valley.

Cass told Lucy to drop them at the top of the lane, but she insisted on taking them to the door. The Land Rover managed the slope effortlessly, sliding into the spot on the opposite side of the entrance to Cass’ car.

‘Busy car park,’ Cass quipped. ‘Watch out for the traffic.’

‘Yes, it’s a pity about this place,’ said Lucy, peering up. ‘It’s an impressive building.’

‘But still only half-finished. I wondered why the builders didn’t show today – they must have known about the snow.’

Lucy gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought you knew – I mean, it might be nothing—’

‘What is it?’

‘Well, the rumour going round is the builders have run out of money. They stopped work a few weeks ago. Still, they’ll probably find another investor. Did you … ?’ Her voice tailed away.

Cass shook her head, her system flooding with relief. ‘No,’ she said, ‘no, I didn’t buy, thank God. I might have
bought outright if I’d been able to visit first, but as it is, we’re only renting.’

‘That’s good. You should be fine then. And the place might fill up a bit soon. They’re still trying to let the finished apartments, I think.’

Cass barely caught the words. She was thinking about all those doors, closed and silent, and Ben’s pinched face, watching from the window for playmates who might never arrive. And then she thought of the empty apartment with no windows, open to the elements. So that wouldn’t be fixed any time soon.

‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’ Lucy looked concerned. ‘Look, any time you want a friend, or a chat, or need anything … Here, I’ll give you my phone number.’ She pulled a scrap of paper from the glove box and scrawled on it.

Cass said her thanks and waved them off, Ben standing quietly at her side. They stood together in the cold for a while. ‘Did you talk to Jessica?’ Cass said at last.

‘She’s a girl.’

Cass hid a smile. ‘So she is. Well, did you talk to her?’

Ben shook his head.

‘Is she in your class?’

No answer.

‘Who did you talk to?’

Her son looked up. ‘Damon.’

Damon – it would have to be: the son of the loudest woman in Darnshaw.

‘And you drew pictures with Mrs Spencer. Did you like that?’

Ben shot her a look and pulled a face. His lips pressed tight together.

Cass sighed. She should try to lighten his mood. They could do something fun together, build a snowman, maybe. But she looked around and realised that night was already drawing in. The sky was deep grey, like gunmetal, and as they stood there it began to snow again, white flecks filling the sky, coming down in a steady drift.

Cass sat bolt-upright, her hair in her face. Something had woken her –
Ben
. She jumped out of bed, rushed through the apartment and into his room. When she reached her son’s side, though, he had fallen silent. Cass knelt by him, finding him hot and tangled in the sheets. She put out a hand. His cheeks were damp, but not with sweat; he had been crying. He screwed up his face and pulled away, muttering. His eyes were vacant.

He said the words again. ‘He’s still my daddy.’

‘Shush, Ben. Of course he is.’

‘He is. He is my daddy.’

Cass held him, trying not to think about Pete. If Ben cried, Pete would swing him up in the air, making fun of his tears, but in such a way as not to make Ben feel bad about crying. He’d do it in a way that would make him laugh.

Ben wriggled in her arms and Cass pulled back. Her son was fully awake now, his eyes wide open. ‘If I got another daddy, he’d still be Dad, wouldn’t he?’

‘What?’

‘Daddy. If someone else wanted to be my dad, he’d still love me, wouldn’t he?’

‘Of course he would.’ Cass drew her son in tight, her thoughts floundering. Where could he have got that idea? She thought of Sally’s words in the hall, her loud foolish laughter. What had the woman said?
You are lucky
. Something like that. Ben must have heard.

Cass leaned back and met Ben’s eyes. She chose her words carefully. ‘Of course he’s still your dad,’ she said. ‘He always will be.’

‘So where is he?’

Cass’ heart curled in on itself.

‘Where is he?’

She took a deep breath. ‘Your daddy … Pete’ – she stumbled over his name – ‘he died, Ben. He was a soldier, and he was very brave, and I’m sorry, but he’s not coming back. Not ever. It doesn’t mean he stopped loving you.’
Us,
she thought. He loved
us
. She felt her hands shake.