Alison Littlewood

by A Cold Season

  Her son pushed the chair away and walked from the room. He didn’t hurry and he didn’t slam the door, just did as he had been told and went into his bedroom. He closed the door carefully behind him.

  Then Cass heard something bang against it.

  She padded into the hall and listened, thought she heard the rustling of sheets. She tried the handle and the door jammed against something on the other side.

  ‘Ben, open this door.’

  Silence. She took a deep breath. ‘Ben, I am telling you to open this door, right now.’ Her hands shook. If Pete had been here he’d have known what to do. If Pete had been here, this would never have happened.

  The next instant she heard something being moved away from the door and when she tried it again the handle turned easily and the door swung open. Ben was climbing into bed, pulling the covers over himself, turning to face the wall.

  ‘What’s got into you, sweetheart?’

  He did not reply.

  Cass went to his side and touched her fingertips to the heap of duvet. ‘What’s wrong, Ben? Do you want to talk about it?’

  No response.

  ‘If something’s upsetting you, I can help.’ Cass waited. She reached out and stroked his hair. It felt damp under her fingers. She sighed, straightened up. Perhaps it was best to leave him alone for a while, let him calm down. She bent and switched on the nightlight. It cast a pallid glow over the room.

  Ben shuffled around. His hand snaked from under the covers and snapped off the light. ‘I don’t need it any more,’ he said, snuggling back under the duvet.

  Cass drew a deep breath, then turned and closed the door behind her, leaving her son in darkness.

  THIRTEEN

  Ben was up first the next morning, grabbing his rucksack and throwing it against the front door. Cass heard him in the shower. When she emerged from her room, bleary-eyed, her skin taut and dry, he was already dressed for school: grey trousers, white polo shirt.

  ‘I’m ready,’ Ben almost shouted, but Cass shook her head. He scowled.

  ‘Ben, I’ve been thinking. I’m sorry you’re all ready, but you won’t be going to school today.’

  ‘I will. I have drawing with Mrs Spencer. She says I’m really good.’

  ‘Well, that’s nice, but I think we need to get away from here for a little while. We’re going to have a nice walk over the moors – it’ll do us both good. Do you remember them? They’re so pretty.’ She thought back; were they pretty? All she remembered was a stretch of road walled in by fog.

  ‘You’re a liar.’

  Probably, Cass thought. She took a deep breath. ‘You’ve been very naughty lately, Ben. We need to spend some time together. We’ll walk over to Moorfoot and stay in a hotel there for a few days. We can see the sights, eat in cafés – won’t that be nice?’

  He didn’t exactly frown, but he didn’t look pleased either.

  ‘It’s an adventure,’ Cass said. And of course it would give her the chance to try and keep the one client she had. She’d spent half the night redoing her work, checking every bit of copy on the website and amending the master files offline. But she still couldn’t upload them. She could at least call her client from town, find a computer that worked and email the files. Failing that she could post them.

  She rubbed at her eyes. She should have slept well, she’d been so tired after the work, and yet she didn’t feel refreshed at all.

  Ben was still standing there. ‘You’d better put some clothes and things in a bag. Come on, hurry. And put some warm clothes on. It’ll be cold up there, colder than down here in the valley.’

  She had packed some things late last night but hadn’t wanted to disturb Ben; not after the way he’d been, turning that face to her, his eyes nothing but a blank.

  It would be a relief to be away from this place. She might even take Ben to see a doctor.

  ‘It’s the law,’ he said at last. ‘I have to go to school.’

  Cass tossed her head. ‘Half the children in Saddleworth aren’t in school right now – what are they going to do? Hurry up, please.’

  He scowled again and sulked off into his bedroom. This time he did slam the door behind him.

  The sun was already high as they walked up the mill lane. Cass glanced back to see the sand-coloured stone warm and mellow behind her. Then her eyes went to Ben. He normally ran ahead when they walked, tramping down the snow, but today he was lagging behind, his mouth turned down, head drooping. His rucksack was slung over his back, his thumbs hitched in the straps. Cass bit her lip. She wanted to tell him to hurry up, but after last night she thought it might even have the opposite effect. Instead she walked more quickly, swinging her arms, hoping he would follow suit, but when she reached the top of the lane Ben was still halfway down, dragging his feet.

  ‘’appen he’s going to be late,’ a gruff voice called, and Cass turned to see Bert walking down the road.

  She cursed under her breath. Was the old man everywhere?

  Ben was still shuffling through the snow, creating a new trail. There was no question that Bert would reach them before they escaped. She felt a prickle of alarm. How would the dog behave? Ben might be scared after last time and she didn’t want that, didn’t want him to be afraid of animals for the rest of his life. She looked at Captain. The grizzled dog was following close at Bert’s heels, and now she could see he was on a lead. It hung loosely from Bert’s hand, tucked into his pocket to keep warm.

  Cass swallowed her anxiety, reminding herself that children could learn fear from their parents. ‘We’re not going to school today.’ She moved aside so that Ben could see her as she stroked Captain’s head. The fur was oily, and gave off a warm animal smell.

  Ben continued to shuffle up the lane; he hadn’t even looked at her. Cass resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her coat.

  ‘You’re not?’ Bert’s eyes flicked to Ben. ‘Nowt wrong, I hope.’

  ‘Not at all. We felt the need for a break, that’s all. There’s been a lot going on, with the move and everything, and I want to spend some time with Ben. We’re going to stay in Moorfoot for a few days, see the area a bit.’

  ‘Aye.’ Bert nodded as though he had expected this all along, as though that was what the locals did. His head swivelled towards the road. ‘It’s a fair old walk.’

  ‘I know – but we’re well prepared. I’ve got a flask of soup and some food, and we’re not carrying much. We’ll be fine.’

  ‘’appen the moor path’d be quicker.’

  ‘A path?’

  He pointed up the road. ‘Watch for the stile into Farmer Broath’s field. There’s a path goes through their yard, up across t’ next field, then t’ moor. You’ll see yon standing stones from there. Keep to the right-hand side of ’em, if you can’t see the path for snow. Then head straight up onto t’ road. It’ll save a mile at least, winding round the bends.’

  ‘Thanks, Bert, that’s a big help.’ As Cass spoke, Ben drew level. He kept his distance, though, looking over at Bert without speaking. He didn’t show any fear; he didn’t look at the dog at all. Captain raised his head and sniffed, and his sides heaved in a deep sigh.

  Cass looked at Ben with surprise; reminded herself that she shouldn’t make him feel afraid.

  ‘Well, nice to see you, Bert.’ Cass nodded at him and he nodded back. I’m getting the hang of this, she thought. The local lingo: a nod of the head for everything.

  ‘Hang on,’ said Bert, and Cass turned as she felt his hand snag her sleeve. ‘Just a thought, but watch out fer t’ lake. It’ll be iced ower. Up by the stones. You might not see it.’

  ‘Sure. Thanks.’ How could she not see a lake? Still, she smiled, giving him a wave as they walked off.

  ‘Bye, young man,’ Bert called after them. ‘You watch out for your mum, like.’

  Despite the sun the air was biting cold. Cass kept up a strong pace, stomping her feet to drive warmth into them. She hadn’t yet passed the stone terraces at the edge of Darnshaw and Ben wa
s lagging further and further behind. ‘Hurry up, Ben,’ she called, ‘we need to keep moving so that we stay warm.’

  He looked up and his face twisted. ‘The school won’t know,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘How will they know? You haven’t told them I’m not coming.’

  ‘Ben, the phones aren’t working, and I’m not walking all the way to the school just to tell them I’m taking you away for a while. There’s no way to let them know, but they’ll understand. They’ll have to.’

  Cass went on, walking more slowly. She drew level with the last row of houses. Ahead the road twisted around them and rose towards the moor. ‘Ben, do I have to hold your hand?’

  He gave her a dirty look and thrust his hands into his pockets.

  ‘Well hurry up, then.’

  He put his head down and stamped on the snow in a semblance of effort, but he didn’t walk any faster. Cass turned and went on ahead. The road wound upwards, edged by a dark stone wall. On the other side was a pristine expanse broken only by a stand of trees. It was beautiful. It struck Cass she could turn this into an adventure: they could picnic high on the moors, away from anyone, alone with the spread of the land and the view. By Bert’s standing stones, maybe.

  Her gaze followed the line of the valley and it occurred to Cass she could have gone that way, following the river along its course. It would have been an easier walk, but then what? She’d get to another village like Darnshaw. No, she felt the need to get away, right away. The moors felt like a border, civilisation on one side, Darnshaw and all its strangeness on the other.

  Mr Remick’s smiling face rose before her, his clear honest eyes. She swallowed and blinked it away.

  Ben reached her side. She tousled his hair. ‘This is great, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘It’s a long time since we had a day out.’

  Ben screwed up his nose and looked around. He didn’t comment, but the look said everything.

  ‘You’ll see. And I’ll buy you chips later.’

  ‘I want to go on my game.’

  ‘You can do that another time.’

  Cass gestured him onwards and led the way up the hill. Soon she could see the stile set into the wall ahead of them. ‘Come on, Ben. There’s the farm.’ They would be able to cut across the countryside, leaving the road behind. Beyond the stile a rough track led away towards a low house built from the now-familiar blackened stone.

  When Cass reached the stile she pulled herself up, then stopped and looked out over Darnshaw. She saw snow-covered rooftops and the tall black tower of the church, and no other colour anywhere at all except the long blue arch of sky.

  She fumbled in her bag for her mobile. There was still no signal.

  Cass helped Ben over the stile and led the way, her feet slipping into unseen ruts beneath the snow. Her bag was starting to hang heavily on her back. She was carrying her own spare clothes and half of Ben’s, plus the flask, some sandwiches and a disk with the client files.

  Maybe they would have been better sticking to the road. It would have been smooth underfoot, not like this. But if she said they had to turn back now … Cass sighed at the thought of Ben’s reaction. He was already lagging behind again, shuffling his feet. Better to go on and see what it was like past the farm.

  ‘Ben, walk properly,’ Cass said as they turned into the farmyard. There was a faint rank odour, and somewhere a dog barked. The yard was enclosed by low wooden sheds, their doors all closed.

  Ben stopped and pulled a face. ‘It stinks.’

  ‘It does not. Come on, Ben, I can see the path. Race you.’

  Cass walked past the blank dark windows set into the back of the house. Steam rose from a vent on the side of the building, but other than that there was no sign that anyone lived there.

  The path led away from the house and into a broad white field, following the line of the wall. It felt like they were really leaving the village now, escaping its pull, and Cass’ spirits rose, though she could hear Ben behind her, kicking up flurries of snow. She took long strides, feeling her calf muscles pull as the slope grew steeper. The air felt cleaner, colder, stinging her ears and nose, and her eyes began watering, the moisture causing an irritating sting. She wiped at them, sniffed and kept going.

  When Cass turned round, Ben was a small figure, sunk knee-deep into the snow. He had stopped swishing.

  The road would have been so much easier.

  Cass waited, leaning on the wall, rummaging in her pack, and when Ben reached her she put a bar of chocolate into his hand. He stared at it. His nose and cheeks were pink. Cass pulled his hat down over his ears and he sucked in his breath when she touched them. ‘Sorry, Ben. Are you okay? This is hard going, eh?’

  He ripped the chocolate wrapper open with his teeth, spitting out the fragment he’d torn off.

  ‘Ben, pick that up.’

  He kicked out, flicking snow high into the air and it spattered against Cass’ coat, marbling the ground, covering the wrapper.

  ‘You know you can’t leave it like that. What about when the snow melts? It’ll look nasty.’

  ‘It’ll never melt. It’ll always be here, and so will you, and so will we.’

  She forced a laugh. ‘Whatever do you mean? Of course it will. And we’ll go where we like, won’t we? We’re going now.’ Cass stopped short. Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears.

  She must be going mad. It was the effect of the last few days, that was all; being snowed in. It had started to feel like she’d never get out of that deep bowl of a village, back over the hills to where the telephones worked and the roads were passable.

  Ben took a bite and chewed, swallowed, took another.

  Cass sighed and scraped in the snow, picking up the wrapper herself. ‘Come on. It won’t take long to get up to the top. Then it’ll be downhill.’

  She remembered that strange experience in the car on the way here: the car heading downhill, but rolling backwards, as though something was pushing her away. It felt so long ago.

  She lowered her voice. ‘Come on, love. Let’s shake a leg.’

  Ben sighed. He balanced on one foot, raised the other and shook clumps of snow from it. Cass laughed, too hard. ‘That’s my boy. Now let’s see if we can find these standing stones.’

  Cass needn’t have been concerned about missing their way. She saw the stones as soon as she reached the wall marking the top edge of the field. They were tall and black, jutting from their white surroundings like sentinels standing on the hillside.

  ‘Do you see tha—’

  Cass turned but Ben wasn’t there. He was far back down the hillside, barely covering any ground at all. Cass cupped her hands around her mouth and cried, ‘Ben, come on.’ She leaned against the wall and waited until he caught up with her.

  When he finally drew level he let out a huge sigh.

  ‘If you stopped messing about, it wouldn’t be so difficult.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be so difficult if I wasn’t here.’

  ‘Don’t be a smart-aleck.’ Cass put a hand on his back, steering him forwards, but he flapped his arms and shook her off. ‘Well, walk by yourself then. I’m getting tired of this. Walk in front of me.’

  Ben stomped along, hands pulled into his coat sleeves, flapping them at his sides, but Cass didn’t care as long as he kept moving. The air was growing even colder, and snowflakes drifted, tiny particles like mist moving wraithlike across the hillside. Ben walked into it, towards the stones, his red coat fading from view.

  Cass hurried after him. How can he be moving so quickly now? She caught sight of his short legs plunging into the snow up to his knees, and yet he was pulling away from her. A wind was rising, hissing across the slope and in and out of the stones. It carried the snow with it, hiding everything from view. It felt to her like Ben was being swallowed up.

  Cass started to hurry, trying to catch up, but her feet slipped. She tried to keep from falling and her outstretched hand sank deep into a snowdrift, dragging her in up to the sho
ulder. She spluttered, fought her way clear. Ahead the path was a smooth blanket, Ben’s footprints already covered over.

  He appeared for a moment between the stones, a small figure, and was gone.

  Cass shouted his name. The wind was picking up, and rough particles stung her skin. She held her scarf across her face with one hand, holding out the other for balance. ‘Ben!’

  He did not come back, nor did she hear him call. She put her head down against the wind and started after her son, and when she next looked up, she found herself standing among the stones.

  Now she could see them clearly, they reminded her of gravestones, flattened and broad, the surfaces pitted. Snow dusted them, picking out whorls and other half-seen patterns. Some were almost worn through, eaten by the elements, and one had thinned so much that an irregular hole had opened in its centre.

  Another lay flat on the ground, one edge just visible under the snow. It reminded Cass of the church altar, dressed in its white cloth. She blinked. On top of the cloth – no, the snow – lay her son.

  She ran to him, pulled him up and slid an arm under his shoulders. She shook him; he was dead weight. Snow had blotted his cheeks, settled on his fine eyelashes, and she brushed it away. ‘Ben, are you all right?’

  His eyes opened. Above his ruddy cheeks his eyes glowed, and she felt heat rising off him.

  ‘Fuck you,’ he said. ‘Fuck you.’

  Cass started, her arm jerking under him.

  Ben pursed up his lips and ejected thin, cold spittle into her face. ‘He won’t let you,’ he said, pulling back his lips so she could see his pink gums as he spoke. ‘I’m not going. I’m not.’

  ‘Ben, what is it?’ Cass’ voice broke. It was a sign of weakness, but she didn’t care, she didn’t know this fierce, angry person. He’s only a child, she thought. How could he say such things? And how could she recoil from him, her flesh, her blood? She remembered when he was a baby, the way she had rocked him in her arms, and she rocked him now. ‘Don’t, Ben. It’s all right. We’ll sit here a while and have our picnic, and then we’ll be gone from here and we’ll never come back. We’ll go far, far away—’