A Cold Season (8 page)

Cass walked down the hall as though sleepwalking, her legs unsteady. She pushed on the door with its brass 12, half expecting it to have locked again behind her son, but he had put it on the latch. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

She went in, slowly, and locked the door behind her.

Ben was in the lounge, starting up his game. His back was turned to Cass. He sat quite still, only his hands moving on the controls, small and capable.

‘Where were you?’

There was no answer. Nor did he stop.

‘Ben, why didn’t you let me in? You must have heard me knocking.’ There was a plaintive note to Cass’ voice she couldn’t banish.
Little girl lost
. She looked down at her hand, spreading the bloody knuckles.

There was a pause before Ben answered, as though he wasn’t really listening: ‘I did,’ he said.

Cass stormed over and pulled him to his feet, turned him to face her. ‘You didn’t,’ she said, ‘not for
ages
. Look.’ She held her hand out to him, showing him the blood.

His face was blank and he looked at her with half-closed eyes. ‘I didn’t hear anything,’ he said. ‘Only the rats.’

Then his eyes came into focus and he looked at her hand. It was shaking. Ben took hold of it in both of his and leaned forward. Cass expected him to kiss it better, but he did not; he stuck out his smooth pink tongue and licked her bloody knuckle.

Cass snatched it away. ‘What are you doing?’

When he met her gaze there was a light in his eyes she didn’t like: an appraising look, a knowing look. ‘Ben?’

The expression in his eyes vanished as though it had never been there. He grinned, showing his white teeth. ‘Are you going to play with me, Mum?’

Cass straightened.

‘We can have a competition. We did that at Damon’s. He’s my best friend.’ His expression was genuine, the transparent smile of a child, but Cass still heard the words with dismay.
He’s my best friend.
She remembered Damon’s surly glare, the way Ben had looked at her just a moment ago. Is that where he’d learned it?

‘He’s got
Street Skirmish
. Did I say? It was a present – for Christmas. No, not Christmas. Something else.’

‘Something else?’

‘Yeah. And it was really, really good. Can I get it, Mum?’

‘We’ll have to wait and see.’ The words came automatically, but while she was speaking Cass noticed something. She bent and took hold of Ben’s top, twisting it. A dark stain was splashed onto the fabric. It had crusted over, a deep rust-brown. ‘What’s that?’

Ben pulled away. ‘Ribena,’ he said. ‘Have we got any Ribena, Mum? Damon’s mum has. She’s got everything.’

‘Has she?’ Cass muttered, but Ben didn’t hear, he had already dropped to the floor, the controls ready in his hand, and started up a new game.

Ben slept peacefully that night. Cass knew this because she kept waking in the dark, wondering where she was, feeling uncomfortable and unsettled. She imagined Ben the same way, hot and feverish, but when she went in she found him lying on his back, resting his head on one
hand, his face tilted to one side. The nightlight illuminated the pale curve of his cheek. He breathed steadily, as a sleeping child should.

Cass stood over him for a while, not wanting to go back to bed. She knew she had been dreaming, and though she couldn’t recall any of the details, the feeling of it stayed with her.

Eventually Ben sighed and turned over, and Cass tiptoed from the room. She lay awake a long time, and then, as though on cue, as she began to close her eyes the scratching in the walls began.

When the dream came, Cass sensed someone leaning over her. She couldn’t see a face, but she knew the tall, broad figure, the black folds that fell from it. She could feel the way he looked at her.

Her father leaned in closer, hair gleaming as candle-light shone through it. He held something out, a small white disc.

Cass opened her mouth, and he placed it on her tongue. It was dry and papery and tasted of nothing. ‘This is love,’ he said, and Cass woke again, cold to the bone, sitting up and staring into the dark.

TEN

The world was hidden by a mist that drifted in sheets across the hillside, masking everything, turning the trees into veiled figures with their arms outstretched. Cass stood at the window, drinking coffee that failed to clear her head.

Ben munched on Weetabix from his football bowl, stuffing in great mouthfuls and swallowing as quickly as he could. He poured more milk with one hand, still scooping up spoonfuls with the other. He saw her watching. ‘We’re playing football in the gym today,’ he said. ‘Damon’s going to show me how to do keepie-uppie on my neck.’

Cass stirred. Her neck was stiff, her limbs sluggish. When she’d looked in the mirror there were dark circles under her eyes. She’d spent half the night thinking about Ben, and now she was awake it was her client she was worried about, pacing up and down his office, waiting for his missing files.

‘Come on, Mum.’ Ben’s spoon clattered into the bowl, scattering droplets of milk. ‘Have you got my kit?’

Cass checked the clock, swore under her breath and gathered it together, grabbed his bag and lunch and the keys. They pulled on their coats as they went down the stairs. Last night’s lockout already felt unreal, like something she’d dreamed.

They waded through the snow, which squeaked under their boots. The lane was solid white, the top layer hardened like pastry crust. Ben picked some up, karate-chopping it into pieces.

‘Hurry up, Ben,’ she called.

He jumped up and ran ahead, waving his arms, and Cass saw Bert standing at the top of the hill, a now-familiar figure. Captain was, as usual, at his master’s side, chest heaving between squat wide-set legs, breath puffing out rhythmic plumes.

Cass waved and hurried on, but she wasn’t as quick as Ben, who ran straight for the dog, arm outstretched to stroke Captain’s black muzzle.

Cass was still yards away when she heard Captain’s jaws snap together. She blinked. Everything was still, so that she thought she must have imagined it: the lunge forward, the heavy chest straining, the neck stretching forward as grizzled lips drew back over old yellowed teeth.

Then everything started to move: Ben pulling his arm away, cradling it in the other, shrieking; Bert holding Captain back; Cass calling her son’s name.

She reached Ben’s side and took his arm. His eyes narrowed and he fought, hitting out with his other hand. His splayed fingers caught in her hair and Cass felt strands of it rip from her skull, but she didn’t care; she was too
busy running her fingers over his arm, checking for blood, for the holes Captain’s teeth must have made.

There was nothing, only a string of drool that had dribbled across his coat, darkening the red cloth so that it looked like blood.

Ben twisted, dragging his arm away. ‘Get off me. Get
off
.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Bert said, over and over, a monotone background to everything. ‘I’m sorry. I never— I never—’

‘Ben, are you all right?’

‘I don’t think ’e got ’im; ’e just tried it on, that’s all. He were ’appen messin’ about, weren’t you, Captain?’

Ben stepped back, glaring at the dog. That gleam in his eyes, the cold look of the evening before, was back.

Something inside Cass clenched and she turned to Bert in a fury. ‘Get that dog away from my son! He’s dangerous. He ought to have a muzzle.’

Even as she saw Bert’s shocked face she pictured them together, Ben and the dog, playing with the old green ball in the park, the dog waddling after the ball, slow but game, tail wagging furiously.

‘Sorry,’ Bert said again. The old man stared down at his dog, his face pale, lost in disbelief. ‘Captain,’ he said. ‘
Captain
.’

Cass felt for Ben’s hand. He pulled away but she caught and held it. She skirted Bert and the dog, keeping her son behind her.

‘Miss,’ said Bert.

She turned and saw that his eyes were pale and more watery than ever. Brim full. ‘I’m so sorry—’

‘I’m sure … ’ she began, but she didn’t know how to continue, and anyway, how could she tell him it was all right? It could have been far from all right. Cass closed her mouth and walked away, leading Ben towards the road.

When she had put some distance between them, she stopped and squatted down in front of Ben. ‘Are you all right, love?’

Ben nodded. His lips were pressed together, almost vanished into his face.

‘We can go home again if you want. Did the dog hurt you?’

He shook his head.

‘Just your feelings?’

Ben’s eyes narrowed, and that light was back in them. He screwed up his face and shook his head. There was hatred in his look.

‘I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He’s an old dog, he must have been startled. We’ll have to be careful, won’t we, if we see him again.’

Ben blew out his breath with a
tch
. Cass felt the warmth of it on her face.

‘All right,’ she whispered. ‘You’re the boss.’

This would normally draw a smile, but Ben didn’t even look at her. He stared into the distance until Cass straightened and they began walking towards the school once more.

As they approached the gates, Ben pulled away and bounded off towards a group of children. He tapped on
someone’s back and they put their heads together, gossiping with their hands cupped around their words. The other boy looked up, and Cass saw without surprise that it was Damon. She smiled at him, but he just stared at her.

Ben waved, ran with Damon to the entrance and was gone. Cass stopped. She could not see anyone she knew except one of the mothers Sally had introduced her to. Moira? Myra? She had long hair that hung loose, very straight down her back. Cass caught her eye and smiled. The other woman’s eyes slid away and she bent to kiss her child on the cheek. Cass pursed her lips. She was sure Myra had seen her.

Mr Remick appeared in the doorway and walked towards her, his arms spread in a welcoming gesture. ‘Nice to see you,’ he called out.

‘You too,’ said Cass, and found she meant it. She looked up at him. It struck her that his face shouldn’t be attractive: the hollowed cheeks, the nose with its slight hook. His skin was dry, a little uneven, almost pockmarked, but his eyes – they were beautiful.

Cass shook her head and tried to look as though she hadn’t been staring. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

‘You look well, Cass. Darnshaw agrees with you,’ Mr Remick said in a low, confidential voice. ‘It’s a beautiful day.’

She followed his gaze to see the sun shining on the hillside. It picked out the brilliant snow against the sharp-blue sky.

‘Really,’ he said, ‘you’ll love it here.’ He touched her arm, so lightly she wasn’t sure she’d felt it, and walked off, already calling out to another parent.

Cass turned to see Myra watching her, and this time the woman was openly glaring. So that’s how it was: she was jealous; all of the mothers besotted with the new teacher, and Sally no doubt starting rumours with her silly jokes. Well, Cass wouldn’t let it bother her. She gave Myra a friendly smile, turned to go and saw Lucy’s Land Rover pulling into the car park. She waved and Lucy grinned as she jumped down and helped Jessica from her seat. Lucy noticed Mr Remick too and waved, but her eyes were distant. It looked like she at least was immune to his charms.

‘Funny about Mrs Cambrey,’ she called out as Cass approached.

Cass had almost forgotten about the teacher she’d spoken to before Ben joined the school. ‘She had a family problem, didn’t she? I wonder how she’s doing.’ It occurred to her that Mr Remick’s tenure at the school might be short-lived.

‘I haven’t heard anything. I suppose it might be a while before we do, with the phones being down in Darnshaw. She might be ready to come back, but with this snow she’ll be stuck on the other side of the hills.’

Cass nodded, but her thoughts were on the files, the work that was waiting to be sent to her client. It had been at the back of her mind all morning.

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Oh yes, I’m fine.’

‘Sorry. It’s just you look a bit tired.’

Cass knew that Lucy was right, despite Mr Remick’s earlier compliment. ‘I didn’t sleep so well. I suppose I’m still getting used to the place. It’s nothing really. It’s nice of you to ask.’

‘Well, come on,’ said Lucy, and took Cass’ arm. ‘I’ll give you a lift home. No, I insist. You’re on the way anyway. You can thank me with a cup of tea, and show me Foxdene Mill. I’d love to see it. I’m something of a history buff, but I’ve never been inside – silly really, when I drive past it all the time.’

‘I can even manage biscuits – despite the rationing.’

‘Oh heavens, has the shop closed already? Ridiculous. You’d think we were in the Arctic, not Saddleworth. Honestly, a bit of snow in this country and everything comes to a grinding halt.’

Cass climbed into the Land Rover. ‘Some people are better equipped than others. I wish I had one of these.’

The car climbed easily up the slope and onto the road. ‘They haven’t even gritted down here yet,’ Lucy observed, ‘or sent the plough. It gets worse every year. Too expensive, I suppose.’

‘I can’t even get my car up the hill.’

‘Have you got plenty of food in?’

‘Yes.’ They might have to skimp for a while, but it would do.

‘Our nearest shop’s the size of a postage stamp, but we go straight to the farms in times like this. If you need anything, let me know. I keep the shelves well-stocked.’

‘I don’t suppose … ?’

‘What is it? Anything I can do.’

‘Well, it’s just—You said before that the phone lines are down in Darnshaw. I don’t suppose they’re still working where you live? I really need to send some files to someone and if you had email … ’

‘No problem at all. Our phones were still on last night. Stick them on a disk for me.’

Cass’ face lit up. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Of course.’ Lucy turned to her and laughed. ‘It’s no problem, honestly. Happy to help out an almost-neighbour. Most people will, around here. We’re not all in the Mothers’ Club. I saw that Myra woman glaring at you. That’ll teach you to chat up the new bloke.’