Snowed In

by Rhoda Baxter

  Tracey stared at it for a moment. Why had the message not come through before? Why had Sally not called her? She wrote back ‘What’s up?’

  The phone beeped and told her the message was not delivered. The one bar of signal that had suddenly appeared and made her phone buzz with messages had just as suddenly disappeared.

  Tracey cursed under her breath. Whatever Sally wanted, it must have been important. And sensitive, otherwise she’d have just sent an email. Trewton was lovely, but there had never been much of a phone signal in it. The mast was quite far away and the hills blocked most of the signal. With no internet access to check email and WhatsApp, she was totally cut off from the real world. Escaping was all well and good, but it was really annoying her now.

  She looked up the road. There would be some reception at the top of the hill. She looked cautiously at the sky. The clouds were low and threatening. It was dark enough that the streetlights were on. It was going to snow.

  But she needed to know what Sally wanted. Tracey sighed and trudged up the hill. It took her nearly twenty minutes to get up it. Goodness, she needed to go to the gym more often. She passed the holiday cottages. According to Angie, two had been let, but only one was occupied and that was by Vinnie. She tried not to think about him. She had no business finding strange lawyers attractive. Her experiences with men never ended well anyway. But her gaze kept flitting towards the cottages. One of them had lights on. Vinnie must be home.

  At the top of the hill, she left the road and walked along a farm track, keeping an eye on the phone to check it had a signal. Eventually, she got a couple of bars. She sat down on a stile and called Sally.

  Sally answered. “Just a second,” she said, her voice low. “Let me just get into the car.” There was the sound of hurrying footsteps, then the bleep of a car being unlocked. A door shut. Then, “Tracey. I’ve been trying to call. I’ve sent you a few emails too—”

  “The internet’s down in the pub and there’s no reception here.”

  “Ah. Okay. Well, I’ve got a bit of news. They had the central meeting today.”

  “That’s not meant to be for another two weeks.”

  “I know. They changed the date. Obviously, you didn’t see the changed invite. I heard them discussing it when I popped in to make sure the caterers had sorted out lunch. Something’s come up. They’re looking at the figures and... well, I’m not totally sure of the details. Anyway, I heard them talking about Nifty Gift It... and they reckon Jared can head it up now. They’re not going to need us anymore.”

  Tracey sat still. Her precious app now belonged to Jared. They didn’t need her anymore. Jared was good, she had to give him that, and he had taken on board an awful lot about Nifty Gift It... her contract was for transferring knowhow. She’d done that. Jared had integrated her product with the existing one and now that it was complete... she had to let it go.

  “Honey, I’m sorry,” said Sally.

  “Uh. Well, it had to happen,” said Tracey. The company had absorbed the product. The last thing they needed was the inventors hanging around getting in the way. A thought struck her. “What about you? Are they getting rid of you too?” She had hoped they would see how organised Sally was and offer to keep her.

  A sigh. “I don’t know.”

  “But you’re brilliant. They’d be stupid to—”

  “No they wouldn’t,” said Sally. “I don’t really fit in here, do I? Working for you and Giselle, that was brilliant. Working here... it’s not me.” There was a pause.

  Tracey stared at the ground and thought of sensible, dependable Sally. What would she do without her? What would Sally do? She needed to talk to Giselle. Maybe sort out some kind of leaving allowance, personally, for Sally.

  “Tracey? Are you still there?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m here.”

  “There’s something else I need to tell you. I’ve been offered a job. At another place. I’ve accepted it.”

  “Oh, Sally, that’s wonderful.” A worry lifted from her shoulders. “Where is it? When do you start?”

  She listened as Sally told her. It was a good job. Sally would be great at it. With Sally and Giselle both taken care of, that only left her from the original crew. She didn’t know what she wanted do, but she’d be okay. She would find something. Bound to.

  “I’m really happy for you,” she told Sally.

  “I’ve got to work my notice, so you’re stuck with me for a while,” said Sally.

  “I’ll talk to Jared, I’m sure we can come to some arrangement-”

  “You’ll be okay, Tracey, won’t you?” said Sally, her voice hitching up a little.

  “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Now that I know I’m not leaving you there, I’ll just walk out and enjoy my earnings.”

  Sally laughed. “You earned it. You should spend some of it on something nice.”

  “Yeah. I can’t think of anything I need though.” Which was true. She wasn’t interested in jewellery or travel. She already owned a small flat and didn’t need a bigger one. She wanted something different, but she had no idea what that could be. A gust of wind puffed into the collar she’d loosened. She put her free hand up to clutch it closed and something soft landed on her cheek. She looked up. Snow. Big fat flakes of it. While she was talking to Sally, the grey cloud had caught up with her.

  “Sally, I’ve got to go. It’s starting to snow and I’ve got to get back.”

  “Oh. Okay. Bye Tracey. Have a good Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas Sally.”

  She slid her phone back into her pocket and looked along the track. The snow was already getting heavier. It was as dark as night. She pulled the phone back out and turned on the flashlight app. The light cut a snowy line through the darkness. White and black. Moving. It was like she was trying to walk through the static on a TV screen. No depth. No definition. It was completely disorientating. She stuck her hand out in front of her. She knew how long her arm was, which helped, a bit. Slowly, feeling her way with her feet with each step, she walked forward into the snow.

  It seemed to take ages for her to get to the road, by now the snow reached blizzard standards. It fell out of the sky in squalls, flying into her face and slithering down her neck. Having stood still for a while, the heat she’d stored up had dissipated and she was feeling the cold again.

  The main road was a relief. At least she could use the stone wall to provide a little shelter from the wind. The darkness and swirling white was disorientating. Which way did she need to go? Don’t panic. Mustn’t panic.

  She turned the phone onto maps for a minute to work out which direction she needed to go in, and turned her face to the right direction. She turned the phone back onto light, but it merely showed her a window of swirling snow. It was almost better with it off. She put it away and closed her eyes, clutching onto the wall with one hand so that there was something solid to keep her upright. Her heart hammered in her ears. Mustn’t panic. She took deep breaths. Right. She was facing the right way. She had the wall to guide her. If she put her other hand out in front of her, she could feel things before she walked into them. Seeing obstacles was all very well, but it was difficult when you couldn’t be sure how far away they were until they hit you. She shuffled forward, trying not to shiver too much.

  The pavement was slippery and steep. She missed her footing and landed on her backside. Panic flared. Flailing around frantically, she was glad when her hand encountered the wall roughly where she’d expected it to be.

  “Ow. Ow.” She pulled herself upright again and, holding the wall with one hand, she set off again. Her bum smarted from landing on the ground. Her trousers were now wet and stinging where they clung to her legs. It was going to be a hell of a walk back to the pub. The road only got steeper from here.

  Then she remembered the houses. She should be passing them soon. She stopped and squinted ahead. She could dimly make out a light. Still holding the wall with one hand, she went towards it.

  Sh
e practically fell over the low gate. By now the night was fully dark and the wind and snow was so pervasive, it felt like there was nothing else left in the world. If she weren’t so frightened, she’d have cried. She focused on getting up the path to the front door. There wasn’t a porch, so she hunched up in front of the door and hammered on it, buffeted by the wind. There was no answer, so she hammered on the door again. Then crouched down a the letter box and shouted into it, “Hello. Please, let me in. It’s a blizzard out here. Please. Please.” The last word came out as a sob.

  She was about to shout again when the door open and she stumbled in, still at half crouch. Vinnie stepped back and let her past before slamming the door shut behind her. After the darkness, the hallway seemed impossibly bright. Her glasses had steamed up. Tracey pushed the hood of her jacket back and took off her glasses. Vinnie was a blurry shape in front of her.

  “Tracey?” said Vinnie.

  She opened her mouth to speak and burst into tears. Relief made her knees give way. She leaned against the wall and slid to the ground. Sob after sob. She laid her head on her knees.

  A hand on her shoulder. Vinnie was down on the floor beside her. “Are you okay?”

  She wiped her frozen gloves across her face. “I’m sorry. It was so... got caught in the blizzard. Couldn’t see where I was and—” More tears came.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay.” The hand on her shoulder squeezed gently. “You’re safe now.”

  “I really am... sorry.” She made an effort and gathered herself up. “I ... just ... I’m sorry.” She looked up. He was close to her, blurry and sounding concerned. Oh. How embarrassing.

  “You must be frozen,” said Vinnie. He stood up and held out a hand to pull her up. “Come into the living room. The fire’s lit.”

  She knew her way around these cottages. She used to help Angie clean them out between guests. She fumbled with her coat, her fingers clumsy with cold.

  “Would you like some help?” said Vinnie.

  “No. No.” She tried to grip the head of the zip, but couldn’t. “Actually. Yes.”

  It was awkward and a little humiliating having a man who was practically a stranger unzip her coat for her. She felt like a toddler. Vinnie didn’t comment. He looked at the coat and said “I’ll go hang this up the bathroom to drip a bit.”

  While he disappeared upstairs, Tracey went into the living room and stood by the fire, holding her hands out in front of it. She couldn’t feel her fingertips any more. It took a few minutes for the heat to wake up her fingers and with it came the pain. She flexed her fingers, trying to get the blood flowing. When she could, she cleaned her glasses on her jumper and put them back on.

  “How do you take your tea?” Vinnie’s voice came from the kitchen.

  “Black. No sugar.”

  He turned up a few minutes later with two hot mugs and handed one to her. She reached for it and missed. Luckily, Vinnie hadn’t let go of the mug, but hot tea slopped over the side. She tried again, concentrating this time, and took the mug.

  Now that she could see him properly, she could see that he was in jeans and jumper. His hair stuck up a bit, as though he’d not long got out of the shower. He was shaking his hand up and down, as though it hurt. There was something comforting about him. She fought back a sudden urge to throw her arms around him and hold tight.

  She wrapped her hands around the mug. “Is your hand okay?” she said.

  He flexed it and shrugged.

  “I’m sorry. I have... a problem judging distances. Sometimes. It’s bad when I’m tired or stressed.”

  He gave her a long look. “How long were you out in the blizzard?” he said. He looked her up and down, as though checking for damage.

  “Not that long. I went up to the top to get some mobile signal and... it turned really quickly.”

  He nodded. “It certainly did.” He pointed to her trousers. “You must be freezing. Can I lend you something, so that you can put those in front of the fire to dry?”

  She looked down at her trousers. “Lend...?” She was a good foot shorter than he was and, well, narrower.

  “I’ve got a spare pair of walking trousers,” he said. “They might fit you. You’re welcome to borrow them.” When she hesitated, he added, “or, you could stay in your wet jeans. That’s entirely up to you.” His eyes smiled, even though the rest of his face stayed serious.

  Tracey smiled back. “Yes. Thank you. That would be very nice.”

  He ran back upstairs and got them for her. She went to the bathroom to change. Once there, she checked her face in the mirror. Her fringe was sticking to her forehead in straggly ropes. Her face was blotchy red and white and her nose was running. Nice. She cleaned her face up as best she could.

  It was a relief to take her wet jeans off and dry her legs. She pulled on the dry trousers. They were too big and slid to her settle on her hips. She rolled them down a couple of times at the waist to stop her tripping over them. At least they stayed up, even if it was in a hip hugging way. She pulled her jumper, which was dry thanks to her jacket, down a bit for more coverage and headed downstairs.

  Chapter 8

  Vinnie was in the kitchen. “I’m making cheese on toast, want some?” he called.

  She hadn’t thought she was hungry, but the smell of toast was too good to miss. “Yes, please.”

  He was putting toast on the grill. He looked over when she entered the kitchen and his expression froze for a second, eyes wide. He turned back to his work. “The trousers okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you. I’ve put my jeans in front of the fire.” She went over to the kitchen window and peered out at the white madness outside. “I’ll go as soon as this stops.”

  She pulled her phone out. A meagre one bar of signal flickered in and out. She typed a quick text to tell her aunt that she was okay and hit send. Hopefully, it would connect when it picked up the signal.

  The smell of melting cheese reached her. She turned.

  Vinnie was watching the grill intently. She went to stand next to him. He tensed visibly. She moved away. “I’m sorry to impose on you.”

  He glanced at her sideways. “It’s not a problem. It’s not like you had a choice.” He leaned forward and flicked the grill off. “Could you grab me some plates, please?”

  They carried the plates through to the living room and sat at opposite ends of the sofa. The place wasn’t big enough for more furniture. Besides, it had been furnished for a couple. Tracey was suddenly ravenous. Hot cheese on toast, she realised, was exactly what she needed.

  “How’re you feeling?” said Vinnie, when she’d finished her food and sat back with her feet tucked underneath her to drink her tea.

  “I’m fine. All defrosted now. Thank you so much for being so kind.”

  “My pleasure. I hadn’t anything planned for this evening, so rescuing damsels in distress is as good entertainment as any.”

  “I wouldn’t call it rescuing...”

  “No. I guess you rescued yourself. I just provided the port in the storm.” He grinned at her, picked up the plates and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Tracey let out a long breath and felt some of the tension leave her. As she settled back, she noticed a sketchbook, tucked into the side of the sofa. Pulling it out, she flicked through it. The first picture was of a ring. A beautiful thing, drawn set in a box. She stared at the picture. It wasn’t bad. She turned to the next page. The ring again, this time drawn with more confidence. The lines were cleaner, the shading more subtle. The next one was softer still. She half expected the next one to be of the ring too, but it wasn’t. It was an outline sketch of a woman, standing with her back to the observer, looking over her shoulder. Her face was smudged. There was a strange intimacy to the picture, even without the detail. She wondered who it was. Was it the woman to whom the ring belonged?

  She jumped when Vinnie returned, suddenly feeling as though she’d been snooping. He didn’t comment and sat back down.

  “Is this your drawing
?” she said. “It’s very good.”

  “I’m out of practice,” he said. “I used to be good at faces. Can’t do them anymore”

  She glanced at the picture of the woman. There were no details to the face, just a hint of eyes, nose, mouth.

  “She’s called Hayleigh,” Vinnie said. He reached across and took the sketch book off her. “She was supposed to be coming here this weekend, with me.” He looked down at the picture. “But she decided she didn’t want to come after all.”

  He was staring at the picture, with such sadness that Tracey felt her own eyes prickle in sympathy. “The ring, in the picture. Was that meant for her?”

  He nodded, still looking at the woman outlined on the paper. “Yeah. She knew exactly what ring she wanted. She told me about it once. She’d seen it in a jewellers window years ago and totally fallen in love with it. It was way out of her price range back then, but she said when she came to choose an engagement ring, she’d choose that one. So... I had it made.” He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small box. “I picked it up last week.” He flipped it open. Tracey could just about make out the ring inside. “She left me three days after.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Part of her wondered what kind of woman knew what her engagement ring would look like before she knew what her fiancé would look like. Part of her melted with sympathy for Vinnie. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged, snapped the box shut and put it back in his pocket. “Shit happens. She... said I was too dull. That I took her for granted and I didn’t appreciate her. That was pretty bad, but that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was just as she got to the door, she said ‘I’m going to New York for a few days. I’ve met someone who treats me better than you ever could.' Just like that. Like it was somehow my fault she was cheating on me. Until then, I’d been all pathetic and worried. I was about to beg her to reconsider. Tell her I’d booked this place. That I’d got her the perfect ring. All that... and she says that.”