Cold Fire

by James Hartley

  Will began to back away. He turned and walked as quickly as he could uphill through the thick drifts, looking back only once to see the girl standing under the shelter as though made of porcelain

  She’ll be frozen solid by the time I get back.

  There followed a few minutes of wandering blind before Will saw a light up ahead, moving, which he took to be the sun. But it wasn’t. Night was falling and it was a lantern. He lifted his coat over his head, ducked down and drove himself on

  As he got closer to the light, drawn like a moth, Will noticed there were figures beneath the glowing orb, well-wrapped-up figures leaning their way through the angry snowstorm just like him. One was Mrs Sharpe, he saw. The other, Will could tell by the body shape, was Ayland, and the third – oh, the third was Bethsabe. Will could smell her: smell the sweet perfume which turned his stomach inside out, even in that cold, in that storm

  Buoyed by this vision, close now, Will was about to shout out to them when he noticed something which turned his blood as cold as the weather. The tall figure of the aristocratic youth had his arm around the waist of his Bethsabe and, as Will watched, his precious love turned her face to the young man’s and they kissed and laughed with such an expression of pure joy that Will fell to the snow on his knees in pain. No vision in the world could have hurt him more

  He could taste snow in his mouth, feel his ears burning with the cold

  That didn’t happen. My mind is playing tricks on me.

  Will scrambled to his feet and went after them, after that high, jiggling ball of fiery light flickering through the fast falling snow. He caught up with them again. Ayland’s hand – fiend! – was indeed on his beloved’s waist. He heard laughter from fat old Mrs Sharpe, cackling like a witch

  “He’ll keep churning them out all right,” she was crowing. “I’ve seen his type before.”

  “As long as we don’t let him freeze,” Ayland said

  “I think I shall rather like London,” Bethsabe came in, pulling out her dress and dancing a joyful jig in the snow

  Will let himself fall back and stopped walking. Once again he collapsed. Knees, hands, face

  This time he didn’t get up

  It was comfortable lying there

  Everything slowly faded away

  9

  “Fishing,” Kizzie laughed, shaking her head

  She and Zak were walking arm in arm down the lane which ran behind the pavilion. They could have turned and walked up to the village and St Catherine’s Church or they could walk down to the bypass, which they did

  “What’s wrong with catching something for our supper?” Zak laughed

  “What? Like a tyre?”

  “I was thinking more like diphtheria.”

  The brown, winter boughs interlocked like bony fingers above them. They walked hand in hand, neither of them speaking. Perhaps he knows what’s going to happen, Kizzie thought. Each time she wanted to say something, she couldn’t. They walked on in silence, alongside the empty meadows, alongside the empty village rugby pitch, with its leaning white posts and rickety changing room shed. At the bypass they walked half a mile up the busy road and then under it, via a stinking underpass

  “People come from miles around to use this as a toilet,” Kizzie said

  “Roomy,” agreed Zak

  On the other side of the tunnel was farmland and a railway bridge. They crossed a stile and walked hand in hand over squidgy grassland to a bend in the river, half-mindful of the dumb, cud-chewing cows watching them from a slimy spot on the far side. Hills rose up around and about them like the stands of a green coliseum

  They stood on the bank of the river and looked down at it. It was shallow and brown, the colour of treacle but transparent. There were no fish in sight but insects skittered on the surface. There were eddies and reeds and as they looked into the drifting liquid they both remembered legends about a second, deeper river under this one, parallel to it, further underground. It went on for miles, people said, like a snake or tapeworm, creeping in a slow brown line just under the chalk hills, around stepping stones, through vineyards and meadows and under houses, onwards and outwards to the sea

  “Can I show you something?” Zak asked, sitting down once he’d checked the grass was dry

  “Of course.”

  “Look.” He rolled up the leg of his school trousers and both stared at nothing. There was nothing there. No leg. It was as if his limb stopped with his trousers. This might not have seemed so strange if his shoe had not been sitting flat on the grass complete with pulled-up grey sock

  “Where’s your leg?” asked Kizzie and covered her mouth as though about to laugh

  “It was like this when I woke up this morning. I noticed it in the shower. No one said anything on the run. I don’t know if they didn’t see it or what, but no one said anything. But you can see it, right? I couldn’t even ask Sol.”

  Kizzie held out her hand. “May I?”

  “Be my guest.”

  She waved her hand through the space where Zak’s leg should have been. “Oh, wow.”

  Zak dropped his trouser leg. “Please tell me if you know what’s happening to me, Kiz. I don’t know why, but I think you do. I hope you don’t, but I think you do.”

  Tears popped up in the sockets of Kizzie’s blue eyes. “I’m so sorry, Zak. I love you so much.”

  “Tell me what’s happening to me. Did you put on a spell on me? Sol says Priya told him you’re into black magic and stuff.”

  “White magic. And, no. I didn’t.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Kizzie swallowed hard. They seemed to be the only people in the world. “I made you up,” she said

  Zak continued to stare into her eyes as he thought about this. The strangest reaction of all – a smile – began to form on his face. “That’s why I can’t remember anything properly.” He nodded to himself

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Zak turned back to her. “I didn’t know what was wrong with me.”

  “I did a bad thing. I know. I’ve been told so many times now. I know I did wrong. I shouldn’t have made you do this. Come here.”

  “But if you hadn’t done it, I wouldn’t have met you,” Zak replied. He looked genuinely happy, which made Kizzie burst into tears like a baby robbed of a toy. “What? What are you so upset about?” He took her hand and she fell against his shoulder and chest, bawling

  “You’re going to go away!”

  Zak might have said “no”, but then he remembered his leg and could only nod. “I can’t remember where I came from but it can’t have been so bad, can it?” He felt at peace for the first time in a long while, looked up at the sky sparkling through the treetops and sought out a quick, brown bird hiding somewhere, chirruping. He breathed in the smell of the river, of Kizzie’s hair and the gentle, cold, autumn breeze which blew over them. “This is so special. Now I know.”

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  Zak lifted her head off his chest and made her look at him. “But you made me up, Kizzie. You just said it. I can’t go anywhere, can I? I’ll always be with you.”

  “But I want you here! Here! So I can hold your …” But as she was about to say “hand” she saw he was going

  “This is it, then,” he said

  Kizzie crouched down, hugged her own kneecaps and broke down. “Oh, no!”

  When she looked up, wiping her face, it was colder and there was a pile of clothes beside her: a hat and a pair of cowboy boots

  “Zak?”

  Standing, she saw splashes, splashes that could only have been made by someone stepping through the stream, whitening the water’s surface

  “Zak, is that you?”

  From the opposite bank came the sound of someone climbing out of the water. The grass was flattened, scratches appeared in the mud bank and then the longer reeds were flattened. Higher up the bank, saplings moved and bent as though an invisible body were pushing through them

  “Goodbye, my love
,” Kizzie said quietly, picking up his clothes

  10

  “Master Shakespeare!”

  Romeo pulled at the dark collar he’d recognised and turned the body over

  Will’s face was very pink, the tip of his nose black with frostbite and his nostrils and eyelashes choked with snow but he was breathing. Romeo hauled him up onto his own shoulders and began to crunch back towards the ruins. It was dark but the night was still and calm. The full moon hung directly ahead, staring down like a lidless eye, and stars popped out in the darkness as the sun fell behind the earth

  Will’s room was warm and busy with bodies. Mrs Sharpe jumped to her feet as Romeo returned. “He’s found him!” she cried. “The lad’s found him! Oh, blessed be God, the boy has found him!” Bethsabe and Ayland also brightened

  “Dear Master Shakespeare!” Ayland cried

  “You live!”

  Will was insensible. His fingers were like ice but Romeo had reached him just in time. Mrs Sharpe knew well enough not to put him too close to the fire but to let him thaw and warm up slowly, as naturally as possible. Once their original elation had died away, Romeo watched as the three of them discussed what best to do, in low voices

  “Perhaps I should go on ahead?” Ayland said. “There looks to be no more snow tonight. I shall go up to London, or as far as I can, and smooth things over for when you decide to follow.” He touched Bethsabe’s hand

  “I don’t want to leave you,” the dark lady answered in a whisper. Will, his face turned to the wall, might not have heard it, but Romeo, standing just inside the doorway, did. Seeing a look of disgust creeping onto his face, Bethsabe barked, “You’d best not be caring about any business which isn’t yours, boy.”Mrs Sharpe joined in. “Get your things and go, you little bugger,” she told Romeo in a firm, cold voice. “Your studies here are complete. There’s no more food to feed you and you’re not wanted. Go on – git!”

  “Wait.”

  All of them turned at the weak voice which had emanated from the bed. Will rolled onto his side and tried to smile at Bethsabe. Romeo, seeing this, wanted to shout at him – They don’t care about you! It’s all a trap! They only want your plays! – but Bethsabe was already over by the red-faced Will, kneeling, resting her head on his cold hands and crying crocodile tears of joy that Will had survived. “I thought the Lord had taken back a genius!” she cried

  “Not yet,” croaked Will

  “The snow’s not the best place to sleep, my friend,” Ayland chimed in

  Will groaned. “At least it caught me when I fell.”

  “I’ll bring soup!” Mrs Sharpe declared, pushing rudely past Romeo in the doorway

  “You should go to London tonight,” Will told Bethsabe as she stared at him as though he were one of the wonders of the world

  “Leave, my love? Without you?”

  “I’m not fit to travel.”

  “The snow will return.”

  “We will all go,” Ayland declared proudly. “Or none at all. And let that be the last word on it.”

  “Noble sentiments,” Will managed. “But, no. There’s no sense in it. Take the play. It is finished.”

  “Sir, no!” Romeo could not stand back and watch this happen

  “Quiet!” Will shouted, with more menace than any of them had thought possible

  “We cannot take the play but not you, sir,” Ayland said, but his eyes were on the table. He quickly calculated the distance between himself, Romeo and the script. “Is it really finished?” He lunged for it and got it before the boy

  “Thief!” growled Romeo. “Sir …” he began, turning to his teacher. “Mr Shakespeare, sir, these two have …”

  “Silence!” Will cried, lifting his hand. The exertion made him cough. “Pray you stay silent lest I reprimand you, boy, and then you may stay silent for ever! Feed the fire. Make yourself useful.”

  Romeo backed down. He went towards the flames and knelt before them, puzzled but compliant

  “Go to London as I say,” Will told Bethsabe. “It is my wish. If you love me, you will do it.” He turned to the tall youth. “Ayland? Will you look after my love?”

  “As a sister, sir.”

  “Truly, a man did never have a better friend.”

  Ayland bowed. Bethsabe managed more tears and protestations but she finally allowed Ayland to drag her away from Will’s bed and wailed until she was safely in the carriage, trotting out the through the slush and out of the school grounds

  “Please, sir?” Romeo asked, coming up to the bed. “May I talk? I beg you listen. I know what they are doing. Those people are not what they seem.”

  “I know well,” Will replied, with firmness. “They have betrayed me but I would be a hypocrite if I thought, too, that I had never betrayed anyone. I have betrayed my wife. My children. My marriage vows. My God.”

  “Sir.” Romeo nodded

  “Your Juliet is here,” Will said, falling back onto the pillow

  “Beg pardon, sir?”

  “Your girl. Your Juliet. She is here. With an acorn in her hand so you know it is her – she is here!”

  Romeo stared at Will in shock. “Where is she?”

  “Where we took you to build not two days past.”

  “There?” asked Romeo, almost falling over in his hurry to get out of the room. “Are you sure, sir?”

  “There,” nodded Will, his eyes closing

  Romeo backed out into the frozen night and ran to his room. It was a cold cell at the end of a nearby tunnel thronged with bats. Romeo knelt on the cold, dirty sheets and worked out a brick above the headboard with the knife he always carried on his belt. From the vacated space he withdrew a roll of cloth and in the centre of the cloth he let the acorn, which Gillian had given him at their wedding, roll into the palm of his hand

  And then he set out across the ice, running as fast as he could

  11

  Kizzie walked back into the school grounds feeling older

  So I’m back where I started, she thought, remembering the first day she and Athy had been brought to St Francis’s by their parents, almost seven years earlier. Not much had changed. They had all grown older but the school had remained the same. The school was the sun the student and teacher bodies swirled around

  Kizzie felt she had learned her lesson. She knew what she wanted now – love – and she knew that she had the ability to affect the lives of many other people and that she had to be careful with that responsibility. But for now the main thing she wanted was peace and quiet. Calmness. A simple life. Get up, go to class, work hard, pass her exams, do some sport and go to bed. She thought about lying on her bed in the dorm reading a good book and it sounded like heaven. It really was the simple things in life that gave you the most pleasure, she thought

  A voice that seemed to come from the trees overhead whispered, Patience.

  As Kizzie walked on, thinking of this, wondering what her life had in store for her, she noticed Angela standing outside the Main Building hugging someone. It was another girl, a woman, Kizzie noticed, who looked just like Angela. The woman waved and got into a car and drove away as Kizzie walked up to her friend. Angela was in sports clothes, a navy hoodie and white trainers

  “I didn’t know you had a sister,” Kizzie said

  “Ha! That’s my mum!”

  “No way. She looked about twenty.”

  “Thirty-three. She had me when she was very young.” Angela leaned against the wall and stretched her thigh. “You up for a walk? I don’t want to go up yet.”

  “Course,” said Kizzie. It was a dry, quiet day. The school seemed oddly deserted, although most pupils would be on the other side of the Main Building, in the dining hall, the library or indoors. The two girls followed the route of the driveway, down past the Day Girl’s House to the workmen’s sheds and the perimeter wall

  “It’s been crazy this term, hasn’t it?” Angela said

  “Nuts.”

  “Are you all right?” Angela looked up at her
friend

  “I think so.” Kizzie grinned. “You?”

  “My mum just told me she’s pregnant,” Angela said. “She only got married about two years ago. He’s a businessman. He’s nice. But she’s pregnant.”

  “That’s good though, isn’t it?”

  “It’s weird!”

  “You’re going to have a brother or sister!”

  “Sister.” Angela laughed and looked up at the sky. “She just found out. Came straight here to tell me, she said.”

  “But that’s great, Ange! Isn’t it?”

  “Yes, yes.” Angela bit her fingernails. “I’ve just been on my own so long, you know. I’ve just got used to it, that’s all. Doesn’t seem real. Seems like I’m a bit old, you know.”

  “My dad always says, ‘there are no rules’,” Kizzie replied. “My mum doesn’t agree. She says if there were no rules there’d be anarchy, but my dad says that at the bottom of everything, there are no rules. You can’t be too old to have a sister because there’s no such thing as too old, do you know what I mean?”

  They were walking along the perimeter wall. “I wonder if she’ll come here?” Angela wondered aloud. They were walking into The Dips now, towards the two interlocking sycamore trees. “Do you reckon the school will be here then?”

  “Ha! This place? This place will be here in a hundred years. A thousand!”

  “Probably,” agreed Angela. As they came out from behind the shelter of the buildings she shivered in the wind. “I’m going to go back and have a shower. What have we got later?”

  “English. Finishing the play.”

  Angela pulled a face. “Oh, great. Are you coming?”

  Kizzie was standing under the sycamores and as she looked up and around herself, she spoke her thoughts aloud: “No, I’m gonna stay here a minute.”

  “Sure?”

  “Sure.”

  Kizzie watched Angela walk towards the sixth form block with her hands in her pockets, walked across to the first sycamore tree and touched the gnarly bark

  “I love you wherever you are,” she said in a quiet voice. She turned her face to the grey-blue sky and closed her eyes, letting the gentle, cold wind blow over her skin. For a moment, when she opened her eyes, everything was whiter than usual and it seemed like the leaves were talking to her. She stepped across to the other trunk and repeated her words. “I love you all. Wherever you are.”