Spirit (26 page)

Elizabeth sat on the bed and took hold of his hand. He looked up at her but his eyes said nothing.

‘I expect you heard the noise last night,' she told him.

Yes
, flicked his eyes.

‘Something terrible happened. Mrs Patrick's brother Dan was killed.'

No response.

‘The thing was . . . Lenny was here earlier. You remember Lenny Miller?'

Yes
.

‘Well, he and I were looking through the photograph album. I know this sounds ridiculous but we saw that same girl in every single picture. The girl in white. The Peggy-girl. The girl who was here before.'

Yes
. Then
Yes
again, which meant more than yes, it meant go
on, I understand you
.

‘After Lenny left, I went around the house, damping the fires and closing the curtains. It was then that I saw the snow-angel. You remember the snow-angel, the one that
Laura and I made, after Peggy's funeral?'

She paused, and lowered her head, and stroked the back of her father's hand. ‘Well . . . how could you ever forget, after the way that mommy reacted?'

Elizabeth's eyes filled up with tears. She felt so tired and so bewildered and she didn't know what to do. At least her father would listen, whether he believed her or not, because he had no choice but to listen. He was like the wedding guest in
The Ancient Mariner
, thought Elizabeth, the one who ‘could not choose but stay'. And her story was just as strange as that of the Ancient Mariner, with just as much ice. ‘The ice was here, the ice was there, the ice was all around / It cracked and growled and roared and howled / Like voices in a swound!'

And
The Ancient Mariner
included another chilling parallel to what had happened last night. ‘The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she / Who thicks man's blood with cold.'

Elizabeth said, hurriedly, ‘The snow-angel last night was made of snow, even though it wasn't snowing, and it was standing in the middle of the tennis court, in the same place where Laura and I made it the first time. I couldn't believe it! I couldn't believe it! I was so frightened. I put on your old coat and I walked down to Green Pond Farm to find Mrs Patrick – I mean, just for her to see it for herself, so that I knew that I wasn't going out of my mind! The trouble was, Mrs Patrick wasn't there. Seamus was taken sick last night, and she was over at New Milford, taking care of him. But her brother said he'd come take a look.'

She paused for a moment, and then she said, in a much quieter voice, ‘The snow-angel was gone, but it started to snow. Then this – shape, this black shape came out of the snow. It was more like a place where the snow wasn't, rather than a thing that actually was. I don't know how else to describe it. It was huge, like a huge beast, or a giant woman in a black hood. It chased after Mr Philips, and it froze him. It froze him so hard
that he
broke
. I never knew that could happen, but it did. I don't believe it, but I saw it with my own eyes.'

She sat on the bed with tears in her eyes while her father looked at her with nothing on his face but the same vapid snarl. ‘I don't know what this all means,' she said. ‘I don't know why it's happening, or how.'

Her father swallowed. He started growling deep down in his throat again, and he was clearly trying to say something.

Oh God, I wish you could talk,' said Elizabeth, squeezing his hand.

‘Llllgggrrr,' growled her father, then stopped out of exhaustion and obvious desperation.

‘Just a minute,' said Elizabeth. ‘Supposing I go through the alphabet, and you move your eyes when I get to the letter you want to tell me?'

Yes
.

‘I know it'll take for ever, but it's better than nothing.' She started to recite the alphabet, over and over, watching her father's eyes for any sign of a sideways flicker. The first reaction was on the letter L. The second was on I. The third was on B.

When he flicked his eyes at R, she said, ‘Library? Is that it? You're trying to tell me there's something in the library? A book?'

Yes
.

‘What's the name of this book?'

H, U, M, A, N, I, M, A, G, I –

'Human Imagination?'

Yes
.

‘You think there's something in this book that explains what's happening?'

Yes
. T, A, L, K, T, O, A, U, T –

‘Talk to the author? I should talk to the author?'

Yes
. P, E, G –

‘Peggy?'

Yes
. I, S, G, E, R, D, A.

Elizabeth frowned. ‘I don't understand that. Peggy is Gerda? What does that mean? You're talking about Gerda from
The Snow Queen
, the little girl who tries to save her brother?'

Yes
.

‘I don't understand. How do you know that Peggy is Gerda? How can she be Gerda? The Snow Queen is only a story.'

A, F, T, E, R, I, F, I, R, S, T, S, A, W, P, E, G, G, Y, I, D, I, D, S, O, M, E, R, E, S, E, A, R, C, H.

‘You did some research? Into what? Into ghosts?'

Yes
. B, U, T.

‘Yes, but what?'

G, H, O, S, T, S, A, R, E, N, O, T, W, H, A, T, Y, O, U, T, H, I, N, K, T, H, E, Y, A, R, E.

‘I don't even know what I think they are. Peggy seems to be snow, and paper, and thin air.'

W. H, A, T, M, A, K, E, S, Y, O, U, D, I, F, F, E, R, E, N, T, F, R, O, M, A, N, I –

‘What makes me different from animals? My soul, I suppose. People have souls, animals don't.'

I, M, A, G –

‘Yes, my imagination makes me different, sure. But surely my imagination is going to die when I do?'

No response.

‘You're trying to tell me that my imagination is going to live after I'm dead?'

I, N, A, M, A, N, N, E, R, O, F, S, P, E, A –

Elizabeth slowly shook her head. ‘Father, I think I'm going to have to read this book first.'

Yes
. T, H, E, N, C, O, M, E, B, A, C, K.

‘I'm going to go see mommy today. Is there anything you want me to tell her?'

No response.

‘Do you want me to give her your love?'

No response. Then, S, H, E, S, L, O, S, T, L, I, Z, Z, I, E, J, U, S, T, L, I, K, E, M, E.

Elizabeth held her father close and stroked his forehead. He didn't feel like father any more. He felt more like a storefront dummy tucked tightly in a blanket. He smelled of breakfast and sickness.

‘I'll give her your love all the same,' she said. Then she sat up and looked at him and said, ‘Oh, father. What happened to us?'

She was walking across the hallway to the library when the doorbell chimed. She opened the door to find three men in hats and overcoats standing on the verandah. She recognized one of them as Mack Poliakoff from the
Litchfield Sentinel
.

‘Good morning, Miss Buchanan,' he said, lifting his hat. He looked almost exactly like Oliver Hardy, right down to his little clipped moustache. ‘We heard you had some trouble here yesterday evening. Wondered if you wouldn't object to talking about it?'

The ruddy-cheeked young man next to him said, ‘We don't want to upset you any, but the county sheriffs department sent out a news release, regarding the death of Mr Dan Philips in unusual circumstances.'

‘Freak weather conditions,' put in the third man, a tall lugubrious-looking fellow with drawn-in cheeks and eyes like the heads of blue-steel nails.

‘I'm sorry,' said Elizabeth. ‘I'm very tired and I don't really want to talk about it.'

‘We only want to know what you saw,' said Mack Poliakoff, with a fat, encouraging smile. ‘Sheriff Brant told us all of the technical details. Pretty unpleasant way to go, from what we understand of it.'

Elizabeth said, ‘I'm sorry, I'm still getting over it. Maybe you can call back tomorrow.'

‘Oh, come on, now,' said the tall, lugubrious man. ‘You claimed there was a snow-blizzard blowing in your backyard yesterday evening, that's what Sheriff Brant told us.'

‘There was. That's how Mr Philips froze to death.'

‘There was no snow reported anywhere else in the locality,' the man persisted. ‘It didn't even snow on Mohawk Mountain. In fact the nearest reported blizzard conditions were in Bottineau, North Dakota.'

‘I can only tell you what I saw,' Elizabeth retorted. ‘Now, please, I really don't want to discuss it.'

‘Just one thing,' put in Mack Poliakoff. ‘Sheriff Brant said that you were the sole witness to another freak death by freezing, eight years ago last June. The Reverend Richard Bracewaite, if my memory serves me, at St Michael's church.'

‘Yes,' said Elizabeth. ‘But I didn't understand how that happened and I don't understand how this happened. I don't have anything more to say.'

The ruddy-cheeked young man said, ‘Do you think that
you
could have possibly been the cause or the agent of either of these deaths?'

Elizabeth stared at him. ‘What do you mean?'

His ruddy cheeks flushed even ruddier. ‘Well . . . there are several recorded cases of people being channels for natural forces. One man in Montana used to get struck by lightning on a regular basis, never harmed him once. And the Hopi Indians believe that certain people have a natural-born ability to draw down rain. Supposing it really did snow here yesterday evening – here in your yard and nowhere else – maybe it snowed because of you.'

Elizabeth said, ‘I really don't know. I saw what I saw. I don't have any kind of explanation for it.'

‘Is there any snow left? Any trace of it, that we could photograph?'

Elizabeth shook her head. The reporters were making her
feel panicky – almost as if she had killed Dan Philips herself, with malice aforethought. ‘You'll have go now,' she told them, and started to close the door.

But Mack Poliakoff nimbly stepped forward and wedged his scuffy Oxford shoe into it. ‘Listen,' he said, ‘we don't want to make a nuisance of ourselves, but this is a pretty unusual story.'

‘Can you tell us how much snow fell?' asked the tall reporter. ‘Inch? Two inches? More?'

‘Did it cover the whole yard, or just a small area?' asked the ruddy-cheeked reporter.

‘How come Dan Philips got froze and you didn't?'

‘What was Dan doing there? His nephew was sick in the hospital and he was supposed to be waiting at home for a call from his sister. How come he was wandering around your yard instead?'

‘Do you believe any of the witch stories they tell in New Milford?'

‘Do you believe in black magic?'

‘The Buchanans go back a long way . . . any known witches in the family tree?'

‘How long did the snow last?'

‘If it was cold enough to freeze Mr Philips, how come it thawed so quick?'

‘Do you store any liquid oxygen or liquid nitrogen anywhere at home?'

‘How come it snowed as much as that and nobody else noticed but you?'

‘Do you mind telling us how old you are?'

‘Stand still . . . let me take your picture.'

The three reporters were still pestering Elizabeth when Lenny's car drew up alongside theirs, and he came briskly up the path. He was wearing a smart coat of ginger tweed and a tweed herringbone cap.

‘Oh, Lenny!' called Elizabeth.

‘Hey you guys, what are you doing here?' Lenny demanded. ‘You, fatso, get your foot out of the lady's door.'

‘Take it easy, buddy.' said Mack Poliakoff. ‘We're asking Miss Buchanan a few pertinent questions for the public interest, that's all.'

‘Take a powder,' Lenny told them.

‘Listen, friend, we're not doing anybody any harm here, okay? We're simply getting some facts straight.'

‘Are you deaf or something? I said scram.'

Mack Poliakoff lifted his camera and took a flash picture of Lenny. Then all three of them retreated back down the path and ostentatiously drove away, spraying up gravel as they did so.

‘Creeps,' said Lenny. ‘I was hoping I'd get here before they did.'

‘You heard what happened?'

‘Are you kidding? The whole town heard what happened.'

‘It was awful. I can't even begin to tell you how awful it was.'

‘Look, you're getting cold out here. How about inviting me in for a cup of coffee?'

Elizabeth nodded. ‘I think I could use a cup of coffee myself just about now.'

Lenny was free that day: he was due to meet a dry goods dealer over at Torrington, but the man had the flu and cancelled. Now Lenny offered to drive Elizabeth over to see her mother in the Gaylordsville Clinic, and she gladly accepted. It was one of those dull autumn days with a sky the colour of pale gum, when even the turning maples lose their verve. There was a smell of impending rain in the air.

She told Lenny everything about yesterday evening. As he drove, he glanced at her worriedly from time to time; and when she had finished, he said, ‘You're sure you're okay?'

‘Oh, fine. Maybe a little woozy, but that's only the tranquillizers.'

‘Do you have any idea what you saw?'

Elizabeth slowly shook her head. ‘I can't even guess. But in a strange way, this all seems to be connected to
The Snow Queen
. Seamus has been quoting it; father said that Peggy was Gerda; and there's all this ice and snow.'

‘
The Snow Queen's
a fairy story.'

‘I know. But somehow it's kind of overlapped into our lives. Don't ask me how.'

‘It's always been a favourite story of yours, hasn't it?'

‘We all used to love it. We read it over and oyer. It was almost part of our lives. We used to act out the parts; we almost felt that we'd been there; been inside it.'

‘There's your explanation, then. Whenever you see ice or snow, it reminds you of
The Snow Queen.
'