Snow Sisters

by Carol Lovekin

  You could go to school and become a librarian.

  She pushed the thought away, telling herself if she was determined enough she could make that dream come true anyway.

  It’s Meri’s dreams that matter.

  Her sister’s dreams were slowly being taken apart. The ghost dreams and the one she’d conjured as a tiny girl, made of stars and certainty and a future in which she never left Gull House. Meredith, she knew, was capable of imagining herself as an old woman, older than her grandmother, talking to birds, her hair turned as white as the moon with moths and ladybirds living in it.

  Verity wished she could cry, although she knew it would only exacerbate the sense of emptiness. She couldn’t think about the rest of the house, the garden, her beach or Meredith’s wood. Could she contemplate fighting her mother again? She feared Allegra’s reaction to the slightest act of rebellion. And she was terrified of the consequences, especially if Meredith made a stand.

  They were poised on the edge of the biggest drama of their lives, with Allegra excelling herself, the star of the show, centre stage. It looked as if Meredith too was becoming a scapegoat. Allegra no longer had need of allies; she wanted accomplices.

  Or victims: we’ll be casualties; collateral damage.

  Meredith still insisted, whatever Allegra said, that if she tried to make them go she would refuse. She would live in the ruin, rebuild the walls, and if she couldn’t manage then she would live in a tent.

  Verity didn’t put anything past her angry sister.

  The air was expectant with rain, the garden layered in mist. Meredith gazed up at the house, considered the walls and the stone, the roots of it like a tree reaching under the earth, the worms and small animals that made their home there. If she went away, who would be left to make sure it was looked after.

  If they left, the house would know. The walls and the windows, every nook and cranny.

  Crooks and nannies…

  Meredith’s belief that, like them, the house had a heart, was absolute. Each breeze that lifted a curtain was its breath, every creak of the floorboards its old bones protesting. When rain rattled against the windows she imagined the house muttering and answering back, repelling intruders.

  It loves me because I love it back. The house knows me. I’m supposed to stay here forever.

  What bothered her almost as much was the idea she would have to leave Angharad behind. Although the ghost appeared to have gone and Meredith no longer dreamed of her or heard her, leaving still felt like another betrayal.

  And this time it will be mine. If she comes back and I’m not here…

  Meredith guessed there was more to the story of the girl who had lived here one hundred years ago. It didn’t end with the dead baby and although part of her dreaded the outcome, she was a witness who was supposed to see the story through to the end. Like the house, she felt her love for Angharad so deeply she knew few people would understand it.

  She wandered across the lawn, past the fountain, considering her options. She could go to the lookout and watch for the tide, collect shells for Verity; she could play with the chickens, head into the wood and the hut, leave treats for the Fae and ask for their best spells.

  What’s the point?I don’t think I believe in it anymore. If magic was real, it would have saved Angharad.

  She knew how foolish she sounded; like a child.

  I want to stay one.

  If you weren’t careful, when you grew up, you could lose the magic.

  At the edge of the blue garden, she stood by the wall and broke off a spray of orange blossom. The scent was heady and she inhaled it as if she might hold the memory forever.

  I could sit and watch for dragonflies, watch over the baby’s grave. I could make daisy chains, and dream-catchers from hazel sticks.

  None of these things would be available to her in London. In London she knew she would be too afraid to go outside. It would be noisy and dirty and terrifying. She wasn’t sure they had flowers in London. Turning her hand over, she looked at her fingertips from which no flowers had ever really grown.

  It was a kid’s stupid fantasy.

  Shading her eyes she looked behind her, to the edge of the wood. She could walk through it blindfold. Her mouth tightened and she spread her fingers.

  I mustn’t stop believing in magic just because Allegra’s lost the plotor because it’s over for us. This place doesn’t need me. Wherever I am, the wood and the garden and the beach won’t stop being magical.

  Looking at it from a distance, she saw how deliciously menacing the wood still appeared, how alive and how, if she listened hard enough she’d hear music meant to entice the unwary. She couldn’t imagine there would be anything as remotely beautiful or mysterious in London. Here she knew she would never be afraid to step off the path because however scary it might appear to a person who wasn’t familiar with it, the wood was the safest place on earth.

  I can walk round the house blindfold too, and know if a mouse creeps along the wainscot or a cobweb falls.

  In spite of her threats to Verity, Meredith didn’t have anything left to fight with. She knew she wouldn’t run away. The idea was almost as scary as going to London.

  The orange blossom trembled in her hand; a few petals twirled in mid-air and they looked to Meredith like moths.

  The next morning, she woke to a change in the weather. Clouds had heaved themselves into place, obliterating the light, and rain fell, caught in a rising wind. The sound of it against the window was the saddest thing Meredith had ever heard.

  Next to her, Verity lay on her back, her eyelashes fluttering in her morning dream and Meredith swallowed, on the edge of tears.

  Sister love matters … you’re the kindest person in the world…

  ‘I’m so glad I have you.’ The whisper hovered on the pillow.

  A sound broke the spell. The man’s heavy tread on the landing; and how he paused outside Verity’s bedroom as if he listened.

  You cannot know how much I hate you.

  She hugged Nelly so close that the rabbit bent backwards. Meredith clutched the red heart which rarely left her person, imagined spells and the kind of magic she knew her grandmother would disapprove of.

  I don’t care. He has to go.

  Forty-eight

  Meredith’s nights continued undisturbed, the loss of the ghost like a bereavement.

  Or a trick.

  With an air of defiance, she told Verity she could still sense Angharad, as if she mocked her, as if she knew they were leaving and was angry.

  ‘It’s like when people have their leg cut off,’ she said. ‘A phantom leg.’

  Who would have thought it – a phantom ghost?

  She couldn’t stand to be inside the house.

  They sat on the steps below the terrace, scattering toast crusts, watching the starlings squabble.

  ‘I made it so she’d want to go,’ Meredith said, ‘and now I can’t bear it. Once we’re gone, all this it will turn to dust.’

  ‘No it won’t. Don’t be silly. Remember what Nain said, about the house being made of stern stuff?’

  Meredith was adamant. ‘Nothing lasts forever, you said that. And I’m not being silly. I needed to say a proper goodbye to Angharad. She didn’t give me the chance and now I’ll never get another one. Allegra’s making us leave and whatever she says – or Nain – I don’t think we’ll ever come back.’

  ‘You can’t know—’

  ‘I can.’ Meredith pulled the petals off an innocent daisy. ‘And you do too. Stop pretending you don’t, Verity. She’ll send me to school, she’ll send both of us; we’ll never come back and it’s his fault.’

  Verity thought it took two to tango and pointed out at least he’d disappeared for a while.

  ‘He’s gone to sort things out at his scummy flat, that’s all. You heard her. He’ll be back and when he comes I’ve a good mind to make a really nasty spell and get rid of him forever.’

  ‘Don’t talk like that, Meredith.’r />
  ‘I made Idris go.’

  ‘No you didn’t. You don’t even remember him.’

  Meredith threw the shredded daisy to the ground. ‘He must have hated me, and that’s what made Mam sad, and then he went away.’

  ‘You were a baby, Meri. And he didn’t hate either of us. It’s not as simple as that.’

  ‘So why did he leave?’ Meredith’s face closed up in the familiar mutiny and Verity could almost wish her tragic again. ‘He can’t have been very nice if his own child’s birth made him leave. How can it not have been me ill-wished him and made him go?’ Meredith’s eyes filled up with hot tears of frustration.

  ‘That’s not how it was. He left when I was born and I’m not about to start making it my fault.’

  ‘He came back and they had me and he went away again.’

  ‘Yes, and it was because of her, not us. Nain told me. He loved us.’

  ‘So where is he then?’

  Verity said, ‘I don’t know Meri and I don’t care.’

  ‘Me neither.’ Meredith started work on another daisy. ‘If you ask me, men are the problem and if you say this one isn’t…’

  Oh, men are the problem all right… But then so is Allegra.

  ‘I agree, he is, and I don’t trust him, I just think—’

  ‘Well, don’t. These are … extenuating circumstances. Let’s do something and get rid of him.’

  ‘Meri, stop it.’

  ‘Why should I, if he’s so horrible? And in any case, it might be fun.’ She kicked the grass and a clump flew up. ‘I’m fed up with behaving myself. And it would serve her right if I made her go too. Then we could stay here by ourselves.’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Meri, stop being childish. You don’t know what you’re talking about and you mustn’t pretend you do.’ Verity caught her sister’s stare; she was no match for it.

  ‘Not even in an emergency?’ Meredith’s voice was like hot silk and she said not to worry, she’d take care of everything. Before Verity could say another word her sister took off across the grass to the side of the house and into the wood.

  Two days later, there was still no sign of the man.

  Triumphant, Meredith appeared in the kitchen, showed her sister a pile of burnt feathers in a saucer, a roughly folded piece of cloth with a pin sticking out of it. ‘I told you I could make him go.’

  Furious, Verity snatched the saucer and flung the contents into the grate. ‘And I told you not to meddle, you stupid girl. What on earth did you think you were playing at?’

  ‘I wasn’t playing.’

  ‘Oh, Meredith, stop it. Okay, maybe he’s gone, and soon we’ll be gone as well. It’s too late, she won’t change her mind now. And even if he isn’t here, he’ll be in London when we get there.’

  ‘You cannot give up, Verity Pryce. How can you be so defeatist?’

  ‘Accept it, Meri, there’s nothing we can do. In any case, I’m sick of it. I want a normal life.’

  ‘Normal? You think London will be normal?’

  The evening sky hunched over the house.

  Verity found Meredith in her own bedroom, curled on the window seat.

  ‘I’m sorry for shouting at you,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to go either, I promise you.’

  ‘I know.’ Meredith hugged Nelly to her chest. ‘It doesn’t matter and I know we can’t stop her. I was being stupid. I don’t believe in magic anymore.’

  ‘Yes you do. Kind magic is always good. And the bad magic doesn’t count. It isn’t proper magic so it wouldn’t work anyway.’

  ‘I suppose Nain told you that.’

  ‘Yes. She told you too. You’re just choosing not to remember.’

  Because you’re terrified and clutching at straws…

  They sat together until the dark bled through the curtains and the stars began to come out.

  ‘My moths have gone.’

  Verity didn’t know what to say. Meredith was still sharing her bed but even though she opened the window in her room as wide as it would go, no moths came to find her sister.

  Meredith said she needed to go to the blue garden. ‘One last time; in case she’s changed her mind.’

  As they padded across the landing they could hear Allegra in her bedroom, dragging things around, singing tunelessly and occasionally coughing.

  ‘I wish she’d stop smoking,’ Verity whispered.

  ‘Who cares? She can die for all I care.’

  Verity was shocked. ‘Don’t say that, Meri, not even if you don’t mean it.’

  In the garden they settled down on the grass by the twig baby’s grave. Save for the skittering of night creatures and a lone owl on her way to her hunting ground, it was suitably silent.

  ‘We did the right thing,’ Meredith whispered. ‘Burying the baby, but Verity, I miss Angharad so much and I don’t know the end of her story. It isn’t only about the baby. I don’t know how she died or where she’s buried. And if I can’t hear her and I go to London, I’ll never find out.’

  All at once she was inconsolable and her sorrow was such it made Verity’s heart hurt. She slipped her arm through Meredith’s.

  ‘If we’re leaving, I have to find a way to tell her, so she knows I’m not abandoning her.’

  ‘We don’t know for sure she’s gone. Maybe she needs to grieve. Perhaps we need to give her some space.’

  Meredith’s face lit up. ‘That’s it. Oh, Verity, you’re so clever. Of course, she needs some time. Maybe it isn’t over and if we wait, she will come back, only maybe not quite yet. And if she’s still here, the garden will let us know.’

  ‘Just don’t get your hopes up, okay?’ Verity couldn’t resist being sensible.

  ‘It’ll be fine. Maybe the birds will tell me. She said they knew. I have to be patient and wait. It’ll be fine.’

  It soon became apparent what little judgement Allegra still had was being annihilated. The euphoria surrounding her conviction a big break was round the corner now drove her. She gave in her notice at the art shop and to Meredith it seemed like another strand in the bad spell.

  She thought of her grandmother, about living with her and great uncle Gethin and what Verity called a normal life. She thought about routine and food in the cupboards, about cinemas and parks and found no comfort in any of it. Each morning and evening, she went to the blue garden, listened for the ghost and to the birds and wondered again about the ones in London. Would she be able to hear the birds above the traffic and the shouting? Meredith knew she would hate it. She couldn’t imagine liking anything about London.

  Folding her hands in her lap, she waited each night for the moths, and for a sign that her ghost hadn’t gone.

  Forty-nine

  The future remained hidden, a monster in the shadows.

  By contrast, the blue garden began to feel like a shrine. There was no further sign of the ghost and Meredith stopped dreaming altogether. Clinging to hope she continued to insist Angharad hadn’t gone.

  ‘She hasn’t, Verity. I know she hasn’t. She’s tired, like you said.’

  The days passed and they walked on the beach and in the wood because they would do anything to get away from the house and where else would they go?

  Allegra stayed in her room or spent hours on the telephone, talking to the man or arguing with Mared.

  When they were weary of wandering, the girls baked cakes and read books. They painted their nails, Verity cut her hair and Meredith caught a chill. She dug out a space in Verity’s bed, like a puppy, and made it hers. During those last weeks she was an animal, fearful and functioning by instinct, fierce too, snarling whenever Allegra came near her.

  Meredith had never contemplated a future away from Gull House. She hadn’t needed to and with time running out, it carried her like a relentless wave and as the days passed, Verity saw her determination falter.

  Another week flew by and one morning, Allegra told them.

  ‘It’s settled. We’re leaving at the end of the month. You’re going to stay with
Mared for a while. Won’t that be amazing?’

  If her grandmother had capitulated and agreed to the collusion, Verity knew the last of her own hope had died.

  When Meredith finally burst into the tears she’d been holding onto, Allegra became angry, screaming and ranting, banging doors, coughing so hard she held her heart and gasped for breath, and Verity feared she would have some kind of seizure.

  ‘Please, Meredith, stop crying,’ she begged. ‘Don’t make it worse.’

  ‘How can it get any worse?’

  ‘We’re children. There’s nothing we can do.’

  ‘We can run away.’

  ‘Stop saying that! Run away where?’

  ‘Anywhere, it doesn’t matter!’

  Meredith was like a withering flower; one by one her petals dropped until the only thing left was a shrivelled stamen. Her hair grew dull, her skin erupted in spots. Both girls stopped eating. Bread turned to cardboard in their mouths and when Allegra made a chocolate cake as a half-hearted peace offering, it tasted of bitterness and duplicity. They left it on the dresser where it went hard and when Meredith threw it out for the birds, they flew away.

  Even the gulls ignored it.

  Verity looked toward the sea only vaguely registering the view. Logically, she knew the water was moving, frilling back and forth against the sand; the sky layered in silver mackerel stripes and flecked with gulls. She saw none of this detail because if she did then she would weep. Inside her head was in turmoil, a slab of whirling horror. She forced herself to focus on inconsequential and random things: her fingernails were too long and needed cutting; the hens’ eggs hadn’t been collected. And it was time they ate a proper meal. No one had cooked, and then she thought how no one ever really cooked and this was a different kind of not cooking – as if to do so would be like saying they were having a last supper.