Red Snow

by Larraine Susan Harrison

  Megan ran. She ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her room where she slammed the door shut and flung herself on her bed. The sense of injustice began to overwhelm her.

  ‘Knocking over a glass of milk doesn’t make me stupid,’ she muttered to herself. ‘It’s not fair.’ Why did this happen to me? she thought, as her eyes drifted to the memory box.

  Why have I just got a memory box when everyone else has a mother? If my mum hadn’t died I wouldn’t need a stupid memory box. Seizing the box angrily with both hands, she raised it high in the air and threw it violently across the room. It landed with a crack as the lid flew open, spewing the precious contents over the floor like a stream of unwanted rubbish. She couldn’t move. She just sat on the bed and stared at the mess. She stared and stared as if she couldn’t believe what she had done. There wasn’t much in the box, but it was all she had left of her mother and she had tried to destroy it all.

  Falling to her knees on the floor, she picked up the items one by one and put them carefully back in the box. Then she checked the catch, closed the lid and put it back on her bedside table, where it belonged. Only then did she cry. She knew no amount of crying would ever bring her mum back, but that night she cried because it felt like she had lost her dad as well.

  Megan now spent most of her time in her bedroom when she got back from school, but sometimes she would sneak into her dad’s room to see if she could see Ryan walking on crutches in the back garden. She once tried to attract his attention by knocking on her dad’s bedroom window when she saw him, but her dad heard her and called her downstairs. She felt like a prisoner confined to a cell and sometimes she felt like she was suffocating.

  Now and again, Paul made some attempts to make peace with Megan. He did a little housework and even offered to take her to York to buy a new coat, but she refused. She found it acutely embarrassing shopping for clothes with her father.

  Things carried on in much the same way until a week later, when Megan was coming home from school on the bus. When it stopped opposite the local shop to pick up more passengers, she saw Ryan coming out carrying a newspaper. She knocked frantically on the bus window, but he got into Bill’s car without noticing her and the bus drove away. She was bitterly disappointed, but at least she knew Ryan was now walking without his crutches. She got off the bus at the next stop and was just setting off towards her house when she heard someone calling her name. It was Joe. He was dressed in a track suit and was out of breath from running.

  ‘I knew it was you Megan,’ he said as he slowed down to walk beside her.

  ‘I recognised your hair. It’s just like your mother’s. Has your dad read my letters yet?’ he asked.

  This comment took Megan completely by surprise, but before she could answer, they heard Kirsty calling them from across the road. Dressed in her usual running gear she ran over to join them. ‘Hi,’ she said brightly. ‘Fancy seeing you two here.’

  Joe looked uncomfortable. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said quickly. ‘Sarah finishes soon and I need to get to the Hall so I can get a lift home. See you later.’

  Megan and Kirsty watched him as he ran off down the road. ‘He won’t tell me what he’s training for,’ said Kirsty. ‘I think he’s making it up. Are you OK Megan? You look lost in thought.’

  Megan was still feeling shocked at the revelation that Joe had been sending letters to her dad and had also known her mum. On the spur of the moment she decided to see what Kirsty knew about Joe. ‘I’m fine thanks,’ said Megan brightly. ‘I was just surprised to see Joe again that’s all. I don’t remember seeing him in Oakton before. Has he lived here long?’

  ‘I think he’s lived here for several years,’ replied Kirsty as they walked along. ‘He was in the army before he met Sarah. I think he was in the Far East or somewhere, but when he married Sarah he was out of work, so Ray gave him a job at his garage.’

  ‘Why isn’t he working there now then?’ asked Megan.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ replied Kirsty, ‘but I think something bad happened and Ray fired him. Sarah’s been trying to find work for him ever since, but he has a nasty habit of getting fired from whatever job he ends up in.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ asked Megan.

  ‘He’s got a quick temper, so they say,’ said Kirsty. ‘Although I’ve always found him to be OK. Anyway,’ she continued, ‘never mind about Joe. How are you? We’ve not seen you at swimming club for a while. Is everything OK?’

  Megan shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’ve been busy,’ she answered lamely.

  Kirsty gave her a quizzical look but to Megan’s relief she asked no more questions.

  ‘I met Irene the other day,’ said Kirsty. ‘She’s worried about one of her cats. It has a swollen stomach and won’t eat.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Megan politely.

  ‘I offered to take a look at it, but Irene said it doesn’t like strangers,’ said Kirsty.

  Whilst Megan was pleased to see Kirsty, she was only half listening to what she was saying about the cat. She was wondering if there was any way that Kirsty could help her get in contact with Irene again.

  ‘How’s Ryan doing?’ asked Kirsty suddenly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Megan. ‘I haven’t seen him for a while.’

  Kirsty looked concerned. ‘How come?’ she asked gently. ‘I thought your dad and his grandad were close friends.’

  Megan felt she had to tell Kirsty at least some part of the truth. ‘My dad’s had a row with Bill,’ she explained, ‘and I’m not allowed to go there anymore.’

  As they got within sight of Megan’s house, she could see her dad’s face at the window, watching for her to come home. ‘I can’t talk any more,’ said Megan. ‘My dad wouldn’t like it if he knew I’d told you that.’

  Kirsty frowned. ‘Megan,’ she said softly, ‘if you want to talk about anything, I’ll be running past the bus stop at the same time tomorrow.’ She then gave a friendly wave to Paul and carried on with her run.

  Fortunately, Paul wasn’t concerned when he saw Megan with Kirsty, because he knew who she was. He had met her some time ago when he took Megan for her first day at the swimming club. Megan remembered the embarrassment she felt when he told Kirsty to keep a close eye on his only daughter.

  When Megan went to bed that night she had a bit of a headache. She kept wondering about what could be in Joe’s letters and fretting about whether or not to ask her dad about them. When she finally looked at the clock by her bed, it was after midnight. Having decided that a drink of milk might help her sleep, she stumbled to the top of the stairs. Her dad’s bedroom door was open and his bed was empty. There was a light on in the lounge, so she guessed he was still there. ‘Just getting some milk Dad,’ she called as she passed the lounge door. But there was no reply. She guessed her dad was in one of his quiet moods again, so she made her way into the kitchen, poured herself some milk and went back to bed.

  It was her alarm clock that woke her next morning. She turned it off roughly. Her head was still aching. The last thing she felt like was going to school, but she thought school would probably be better than a day at home with her dad if he was in one of his silent moods. She threw off the duvet and made her way to the bathroom. Out of the corner of her half-closed eyes she noticed that her dad’s door was still open and his bed hadn’t been slept in. She ran down the stairs. ‘Dad,’ she called ‘Where are you?’

  As she pushed open the door of the lounge, she knew something was wrong, because the light was still on. Her dad was lying curled up on the settee. His eyes were closed and there was an empty bottle of whisky on the floor beside his head. She shook him by the shoulder. ‘Dad, wake up. Wake up!’ Her mind was racing with unimaginable thoughts. What if he won’t wake up? She shook him again, but his eyes stayed shut and his body was limp. ‘Dad! Dad!’ she screamed. ‘It’s me Megan. Open your eyes. Say something.’

  ‘What?’
he grunted, opening his eyes blearily. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘You’ve been here all night,’ said Megan tearfully.

  Paul held on to the back of the settee with one hand and slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position. He put his head in his hands.

  ‘Can you get me some water Megan?’ he asked huskily. ‘And turn out that light will you. It’s hurting my eyes.’

  When Megan came back with the water, Paul was still sitting with his head in his hands. He took the water and sipped it before handing it back to Megan. She placed it on the table, along with the empty whisky bottle from the floor.

  ‘I’m so sorry Megan,’ said Paul. ‘I’m such a useless father. I’m just a waste of space. I can’t seem to get my head right.’

  Megan sat beside him. He reached out and gently took hold of her hand, just as he had done when she was little. ‘I do love you Megan,’ he whispered. ‘Whatever happens, I love you more than anything. I want you to know that.’

  She held his hand tightly. ‘It’s OK Dad. I know.’

  ‘I can’t look after you any more love,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m a bad father. You deserve better than this.’

  ‘I’m OK Dad. I can look after myself,’ said Megan quickly.

  ‘But you’re only twelve. You shouldn’t have to look after yourself and you shouldn’t have to look after me either.’

  Megan was now beginning to panic. She didn’t want to hear her dad talking like this.

  ‘It’s fine Dad, I don’t mind,’ said Megan.

  ‘Someone else needs to look after you until I’m better,’ said Paul suddenly.

  Megan’s face went pale. ‘There is no one who can do that Dad. I’m OK. I am really.’

  Paul sighed heavily. ‘There are people who foster children when their parents are ill Megan. You would be properly looked after there.’

  Megan let go of her dad’s hand as the tears began to stream down her face. ‘No Dad. I want to stay with you. We’ll manage. I don’t want to go anywhere else.’

  Paul put his arms around Megan. ‘I don’t really want you to go, but I feel so useless. I want to do what’s best for you that’s all.’

  ‘What’s best for me is to stay with you Dad,’ sobbed Megan. ‘We can work it out together. I know we can.’

  Paul brushed away a tear from the corner of his eye. ‘I don’t deserve to have such a lovely daughter.’

  Megan wiped her tear-stained face and passed her dad the box of tissues. ‘Do you want some black coffee?’ she asked.

  Paul tried his best to smile. ‘That’s exactly what I need,’ he said, ‘but you don’t look too good yourself Megan. Are you alright?’

  ‘I’ve got a headache,’ said Megan.

  ‘Pass me the phone,’ said Paul. ‘I’ll ring the school. I think we both need to stay at home and get some rest today.’

  Paul went back to bed after drinking his coffee and it wasn’t long before Megan decided to do the same. But she wasn’t in bed long before she started to feel much worse. She had a high temperature and felt sick. When Paul got up around midday, he warmed up some soup and brought it to her room in a big mug. She struggled to drink it, but she felt thankful that her dad was making an effort to cope. That night her dad gave her some pain killers to help lower her temperature, but she was no better in the morning.

  ‘You’d better stay in bed again today Megan,’ he said gently. ‘I’ll ring the school and then I’ll cancel my appointment at the doctor’s.’

  Megan forced herself to sit up in bed. Her head was throbbing but she was worried. She didn’t want the doctor to say that her dad was too ill to look after her, but seeing him collapsed on the settee had scared her. She knew deep down that he needed to get some help. ‘You need to go to the doctor’s Dad,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll be OK.’

  Paul sat down on the end of her bed. He looked at her and frowned. ‘I don’t like to leave you on your own, especially as you’re ill,’ he said.

  ‘I promise I’ll ring the doctor’s if there’s an emergency,’ said Megan trying to sound confident. ‘But all I’m going to do is go to sleep.’

  Paul sighed. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll try not to be long.’

  Megan waited a few minutes after she heard the front door close, just to make sure her dad didn’t come back for anything. Now was a good opportunity to put the envelope back where she had found it. She felt dizzy with sickness as she stood on the chair in her dad’s room, but she gripped the box tightly as she lifted it down. The sketch book was still in there, but she felt so ill that she decided to leave it where it was for now. Putting the envelope on top of the sketch book, she put the box back on top of the wardrobe and returned to her room where she flopped down on her bed, dripping with perspiration.

  She didn’t hear her dad return. In fact, she didn’t hear much at all that day, because she slept for most of the time. She spent the day in a blur of fever and confusion, sleeping fitfully, dreaming about cats and loud crashes. However, later in the evening she began to feel a little better. Her dad brought her some toast and tea and sat on her bed whilst she ate it. He seemed awkward and uncomfortable as he tried to chat about the weather and other inconsequential things and so it was some time before he finally said what he really wanted to say. ‘The doctor has given me some tablets to calm me down a bit,’ he muttered. ‘Just to tide me over until I can see a counsellor.’

  ‘Good,’ was all Megan could think to say.

  Paul smiled. He seemed relieved that she didn’t ask him any questions and he left the room at the first opportunity. Megan was also relieved. She felt too ill for any more difficult conversations with her dad and she was glad there was no more mention of her going into care.

  9

  The Intruder

  That same night, Paul went to bed earlier than usual and judging by his snoring, he quickly fell asleep. Megan wondered if the new tablets had made him drowsy. Although she still felt exhausted, she couldn’t seem to sleep and it was almost midnight when she went downstairs for a drink of water. She was just getting the glass from the kitchen cupboard when she heard a noise coming from the back garden. It was a sharp bang, followed by a sort of rattling, creaking noise. When she parted the kitchen curtains, she saw a faint torchlight coming from Bill’s shed. There was only a low fence between the two gardens, so she could see the shed quite clearly. She couldn’t think what Bill would be doing in his shed at that time of night and she wondered why he hadn’t put the light on. Then it occurred to her that it may not be Bill at all, but someone else.

  ‘Dad wake up,’ she called as she ran up the stairs. ‘There’s someone in Bill’s shed.’

  Paul was in a deep sleep and took some time to come round, but when he finally did, he quickly put on his shoes and raced downstairs towards the back door.

  ‘Stay inside Megan,’ he called as he ran outside, slamming the door shut behind him.

  When Megan saw her dad sprinting over the low fence between the two houses, she wondered if she should call the police. She rushed into the hallway for the phone and was just thinking about picking up the handset, when she heard shouting from the garden. She ran back into the kitchen and looked across into Bill’s garden. To her horror, she saw her dad grappling with a man outside the shed. Then she heard Bill’s voice from out of the darkness. ‘Get off my land or I’ll shoot your legs off.’

  The glint of a rifle butt caught her eye, as Bill waved a large gun in the direction of the shed. Then she heard Skippy barking and Ryan’s voice, high pitched and panicking.

  ‘No Grandad. Don’t!’

  Bill was distracted for a split second. ‘Get back Ryan!’ he shouted.

  But a split second was long enough for the man to make his escape. He pushed Paul violently towards Bill, sending them both staggering backwards, but as Ryan ran to help them, the barrel of the gun caught the side of his face
and he fell to the floor. Megan heard Ryan’s cry of pain as the intruder jumped over the low fence and disappeared into the darkness.

  Paul and Bill helped Ryan to his feet. His face was bleeding heavily and they took him inside. Megan could watch no more. She ran outside, jumped over the fence and ran into Bill’s house. When she got there, her dad was phoning the police and Bill was holding a towel against Ryan’s face. They all looked pale and shaken.

  ‘I think it’s just a split lip, Ryan,’ said Bill shakily. ‘Keep pressing on it ‘til the bleeding stops.’

  ‘The police are on their way,’ said Paul when he eventually put the phone down.

  Just then there was knock at the back door. A couple of neighbours had heard the commotion and had come to see if they could help. Bill said he was too upset to talk to anyone, so Paul went into the garden to reassure them that everything was under control and they left.

  When he came back into the kitchen, he was carrying a mobile phone and the rifle that Bill had dropped in the scuffle. He placed them both carefully on the kitchen table.

  ‘I think the police will be very interested in this phone I’ve just found,’ he said, ‘but we need to talk about the gun Bill.’

  ‘What’s to talk about?’ said Bill abruptly. ‘It’s my old air rifle.’

  Paul sighed. ‘Yes, but you can’t go round threatening people with it. It’s a fire arm.’

  Bill was becoming agitated. ‘It’s not a fire arm any more,’ he said. ‘The trigger’s broken. I don’t even have the pellets.’

  ‘I hope the police understand that,’ said Paul, ‘because if they say it’s a replica fire arm you’re going to have some explaining to do.’

  ‘Where did it come from?’ asked Ryan from behind the towel.

  ‘I keep it under my bed,’ said Bill.

  ‘Paul’s right Grandad,’ said Ryan, ‘you shouldn’t be threatening people with it.’