Alison Littlewood

by A Cold Season

  Cass heard Mr Remick call out from inside the office. She pushed the door open and went inside. He smiled at her from behind his desk and Sally nodded from her seat. Cass smiled back, the warmth of their gaze a sudden, grateful release. Only Ben hadn’t looked up. He was sitting on Sally’s knee.

  ‘We’ve been having a chat with Ben,’ said Mr Remick. ‘It seems Jessica said something to upset him, and it all got a little out of hand. Isn’t that right?’

  Ben nodded.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Cass.

  ‘Jessica said something about someone that Ben didn’t like, and he asked her to take it back. She wouldn’t, and there was a bit of pushing, and the other kids started egging them on, I believe. She cut her face on the ice when he knocked her down.’

  ‘Ben, you didn’t hit her? How could you do that?’ Cass remembered Jessica’s face; it had been deathly pale, the blood a bright, awful stain. The child was younger than Ben by a year, maybe two.

  Her son didn’t meet her eye. That hardness was still in his gaze.

  ‘What did she say?’ Cass looked around. ‘Does anyone know?’

  Sally cleared her throat but didn’t speak, only looked to Mr Remick. Cass was surprised to see him look flustered.

  ‘Apparently she said something about me,’ he said. ‘Ben didn’t like it.’

  Ben did look up now, staring at Mr Remick with a fierce gaze.

  ‘Ben, you shouldn’t hit girls. You shouldn’t hit anyone,’ said Cass. ‘We’ll talk about this later. But you have to apologise to Jessica and her mum.’

  Ben whirled to face her. ‘I’m not. And we won’t, because I’m not coming home with you, I’m going to Sally’s!’

  Sally’s. Since when did he call his teachers by their first names? Cass took a deep breath. ‘You’re not going, Ben.’ She looked at the others. ‘I’m sorry, but we have to make our apologies. Ben and I need to talk.’

  Ben opened his mouth to protest but Mr Remick stilled him with a look. ‘Wait outside a moment, Ben,’ he said, and the boy slipped off Sally’s lap, glared at his mother and left the room.

  Mr Remick took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry about this,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think we’ve heard the full story. What I said was true – Jess apparently said something about me. But one of the other boys said that Jess was also talking about Ben’s father.’

  ‘Why on earth would she do that? She doesn’t know anything about us.’

  ‘I’m not sure, but children can be cruel, and he was understandably upset. That doesn’t excuse his behaviour, and we’ll speak to him about it, of course. And he will apologise. But may I recommend that you continue as normal for now? It’s your decision, of course, but I’m not sure it would be good for him to have further upset today, when he’s already so emotional.’

  ‘I’m still happy to take him,’ said Sally. ‘As you say, sometimes it’s best to let everything calm down in its own time. Then we can see everything a bit more clearly.’ She paused. ‘Poor boy. He was very upset.’

  Upset? Is that what it was? The gleam in Ben’s eyes had looked like anger to Cass. Did she no longer know her own son? She looked down, the black and white chequered flooring a blur. She rubbed her face. Then she remembered the way Ben had cried out in the night for his father. He was just a little boy, alone in a new place, and he was hurting. Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised; perhaps this was what was normal.

  Slowly she nodded her head.

  ‘That’s great,’ said Mr Remick. ‘I’m sure it’ll all work out for the best. And I benefit too, of course.’ He gave a warm smile. ‘Really, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Ben that settling in and making some new friends won’t sort out. Tonight should help enormously, I think. And we’ll have a word with Jessica’s mother tomorrow, won’t we, Sally?’

  Sally nodded. The bright smile was back. ‘Well, I’d better round up the troops. I’ll walk Ben back later if you like, Cass. You look a bit pale.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll fetch him.’ Cass forced a smile. ‘Thanks, Sally. I appreciate it.’

  Sally nodded and opened the door, already calling out names. Cass realised that the sullen children in the corridor were the ones Ben was going to have tea with, and misgivings fluttered in her stomach. No, this was a nice school, a good place. Sally wouldn’t have them round if they weren’t good kids.

  Mr Remick was watching her. ‘I’m sorry. I ought to have been there. It’s difficult, with the mixed classes we have now.’

  ‘No, of course not. It’s not your fault.’

  ‘Just one of those things.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Cass, why don’t you get your bag, and we’ll head straight to my place? You can relax while I cook. It’ll give you a break. There’s no point in going all the way back to the mill and then out again.’

  He held out his hand and smiled. After a moment she reached out and took it.

  ‘Walk with me,’ he said.

  When they went outside, the car park was empty and light was draining from the sky. Cass looked up and the moon was already visible, a cool, pale disc.

  Mr Remick set the building alarm and locked the doors, tucking the keys into his jacket. ‘I love evenings like this,’ he said. ‘Everything’s so still. What say we forget our troubles for tonight?’ He offered her his arm and they headed up the slope together.

  Cass was conscious of her arm in his. She peered down the road, looking for any sign of Sally and the boys, but they had already gone. She found herself missing Ben’s hand in her own.

  ‘Cass, are you all right?’

  His voice was so warm. Cass closed her eyes. It was strange, having someone ask after her, look after her. It hadn’t been that way since—

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she found she couldn’t catch her breath.

  ‘Here, sit down.’ He guided her, pushed snow from a wall and sat her down. When Cass opened her eyes he was rubbing her hands as though she was a child with cold fingers.

  ‘It’s all right. It’s fine. He’s a good boy, Cass. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Let me do that for tonight, hmm? Just for one night.’ His voice was little more than a whisper. His fingers were warm on hers.

  ‘Do you feel dizzy? I could take you back inside.’

  Those dim halls, that green haze. Cass shook her head. ‘I’m fine. I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘It’s the lack of a Theo Remick steak. That’s what’s causing the problem.’

  ‘Oh?’ She laughed.

  ‘Better?’ He took her hand, held it a moment before pulling her up. There was strength in his arms, despite his slight build. ‘Your carriage awaits, ma’am. Actually, it doesn’t. But you can’t have everything, and I promise the steak will be pretty good.’

  Cass smiled, brushed hair from her face. Down the road she thought she heard a distant shout – the boys maybe: Ben enjoying himself already. Mr Remick had been right. The trip to Sally’s would do Ben good, help him settle in. She shouldn’t be worrying about her son.

  The rectory was a squat black building with narrow windows and a triangular pediment over the door. It was ugly, but once inside Cass found the kitchen cosy, with copper pans dangling from the ceiling and off-white paint peeling here and there in a homely fashion. She thought of the mill kitchen, spartan in its newness, the space too large to feel quite comfortable. Everything was too clean and neat there. Here, pupils’ work was spread over the table as though he was midway through marking. He gathered it into a pile and shoved it onto a shelf already crammed with books.

  He opened a bottle of wine and handed her a glass. ‘A toast,’ he said, ‘to settling in.’ He clinked his glass against hers. Cass smelled the wine before it reached her lips, spicy and sweet. It tasted that way too, and the heat of it slipped into her, radiating comfortingly.

  Mr Remick pulled a face.

  ‘I like it,’ said Cass. ‘It’s differ
ent.’

  ‘Good, well, let’s see what I can mess up next.’

  ‘You’re not messing it up.’ The words were out before she thought about them. The wine taking effect already? His blue eyes, looking at her. ‘What did Jessica say about you?’ she blurted.

  He grimaced and Cass cursed herself. Why had she said that? She hadn’t even been aware of thinking it. She turned the wineglass in her hand, letting the light glow through the liquid.

  ‘I didn’t ask for details,’ he said. ‘Sometimes it isn’t pleasant to see yourself through the eyes of your pupils.’

  Cass thought of the way Ben’s eyes lit up whenever he was there. ‘Oh, I don’t believe that.’

  ‘They’re fantastic kids. I’ll be sad to leave them.’

  ‘Leave?’

  ‘When Mrs Cambrey comes back.’

  ‘But won’t you be staying on?’

  ‘Maybe – they may need a class teacher. I might stay around for a while anyway, of course. This is my home.’

  ‘But you make such a good head.’

  ‘That’s nice of you to say. It helps to know the area, of course. Even some of the children.’

  ‘And the mothers?’ Again Cass hadn’t known she was going to say it.

  ‘Some of them.’ He met her eyes and she looked away.

  ‘We should eat,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?’

  Cass sat and watched while he tenderised steaks and made pepper sauce. After frying the meat he set it on plates with a green salad. ‘Where on earth did you get all that?’ Her words came out too fast, the wine rushing to her head.

  He grinned. ‘I have my secrets. Although I will tell you this: the steak came courtesy of the Broaths. They sent some eggs for you too, by the way.’

  ‘You’re joking. I thought you had to be a local.’

  ‘Of course. But you are a local, aren’t you, Cass? They know that now. Don’t bother with the local butchers – the Winthrops are a waste of time. The Broaths will look after you.’

  She didn’t know what to say, but he gestured at the plates, and suddenly she was famished.

  They ate in the kitchen, Mr Remick pouring more wine. He lit candles, dimmed the overhead lights. Cass felt a stab of anxiety about the candles, but it was all right; the room was so domestic, she still felt comfortable. She couldn’t help but talk and laugh and joke with him, like old friends. Old times. Then he touched her knee, lightly, so that she wasn’t sure he had made contact at all.

  ‘Let’s go through,’ he said. ‘I’ll clean this up later.’

  Cass was surprised to see the plates empty. ‘That was really good – the best meal I’ve had in ages,’ she said. She stopped short of saying, and the best company.

  Mr Remick held out his hand, mock-genteel; she took it, and he led her into a small lounge – more of a nook, really, with barely room for the green sofa. He turned to a shelf and music started up, low and gentle.

  Cass sat, suddenly shy, pressing her hands between her knees. When he turned, though, his expression made her smile. How did he do that, put her at ease with a look?

  ‘You’re thinking I might try and kiss you,’ he said. There was a slight line of purple at the very edge of his lip.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I was thinking I might kiss you too. But I won’t.’

  ‘You won’t?’

  ‘Not unless you want me to, of course.’ He bowed. ‘I hate to disappoint a guest.’

  She spluttered into laughter. ‘Is that what you say to all your visitors?’

  ‘Yes. Absolutely. That’s why I don’t invite many people round.’ He smiled. ‘Seriously. I like you, Cass. I enjoy your company.’

  She swallowed, shifted in her seat.

  ‘I hope you’ll come again. Humour an old man.’

  ‘You’re not old.’

  He met her eyes. ‘I’m older than I look.’ He paused. ‘But there’s life in me yet.’ His lip twitched, making him seem suddenly vulnerable, and he sat down next to her. Cass didn’t move. ‘May I kiss you, Cass?’

  May I. Cass didn’t take her eyes from his. She nodded.

  He reached out a hand, and when he touched her cheek she caught her breath. His finger stroked her skin. He kept his eyes on her, as though she were some rare, perfect thing. Then he leaned in, again so slowly she thought he would never touch her at all, that this moment would stretch out until one or the other of them pulled away. His face was a dark shape against the candlelight, features merged in shadow. Then his breath was warm on her face, scented with sweet red wine, and his lips touched hers as lightly as was possible; almost a touch, almost nothing at all. He drew away, smiling, ran a wine-dark tongue across his lips. His hand was still on her cheek.

  ‘Mm,’ he said.

  She could still feel the faint contact on her lips. ‘Theo,’ she said, trying out the word, conscious that she hadn’t called him by his first name before. He had always been ‘Mr Remick’.

  ‘Theo it is.’

  ‘I’d like you to kiss me.’

  They leaned in to each other this time and paused only a second before their lips touched. This time the contact was firm, his lips fitting hers, easing them apart, the kiss widening, growing, the touch spreading its warmth down Cass’ spine. She felt the tip of his tongue. She opened her mouth, meeting it with her own, drawing him close. He eased himself over her, his hand slipping under her back.

  He lifted his head. He didn’t speak, just looked down at her, his face almost lost in darkness. ‘You are a very special lady, Cass,’ he said.

  She shook her head, looked away.

  ‘And you don’t even know it.’ He pushed himself up, his heat fading, the cool air something like disappointment on Cass’ skin.

  She sat up too, glanced at the clock. ‘Oh Lord, I should go and get Ben.’

  ‘Of course. Listen, why don’t I come with you to fetch him?

  She smiled and stood.

  ‘A very special lady indeed,’ Mr Remick said, and pushed himself to his feet.

  Cass felt the cold air envelop her body, and yet the warmth of the wine and Theo Remick’s touch stayed with her as she stepped into the road. Their breath mingled. She found it was good to walk with someone’s arm in hers, to not be alone. They turned together into Sally’s driveway. Mr Remick knocked and they exchanged glances when they heard a welcoming bellow.

  Mr Remick went in first. The boys were sitting in a circle, teeth and eyes glimmering in the lamplight.

  ‘We were just having supper.’ Sally bustled through with a tray loaded with cheese and biscuits. ‘Care to join us?’

  ‘Perfect.’ He squatted in the circle and as Cass squeezed between him and Ben she noted that her son looked calm now. The children sat close together, their legs crossed. Sally set down the tray and they dived in, stuffing biscuits into their mouths.

  ‘So, how are my boys?’ Mr Remick asked.

  They stared up at him.

  ‘We shared,’ said Ben.

  ‘You did? That’s great. It’s good to share.’

  ‘We played games,’ Damon cut in.

  ‘It’s good to play games,’ he said, grinning sidelong at Cass. His thigh was warm against hers. ‘Did you have a good night, Ben?’

  Ben bobbed his head, pushed a cracker into his mouth with his palm.

  ‘James, why don’t you pass the cheese around?’ Mr Remick said to the boy sitting opposite, and he jumped to attention, grabbed the plate and held it out.

  ‘Oh,’ said Cass, ‘you hurt your hand.’ She could see a red line on his palm, half-hidden by the plate. It looked like the mark she’d seen on Damon’s hand.

  He whipped his head round and glared at her, and Cass thought suddenly of the darkened corridor at school, the bright eyes shining. Then James looked at Mr Remick. ‘I slipped playing football,’ he said.

  The teacher turned to Sally. ‘A fine spread. You’re a wonder, as ever.’

  Cass said, ‘Thanks, Sally – I should be g
etting Ben home now.’

  ‘You’re very welcome. It’s a pleasure to have you all here. Any time.’

  Mr Remick stood and helped Cass up, then pulled Ben to his feet. He didn’t complain about leaving this time, just waited quietly with his hand in Mr Remick’s. ‘Are you coming too?’ he asked. There was no resentment in his voice, only curiosity.

  ‘Not this time. I’m just walking with you for a while.’

  They said their goodbyes, and again the ring of cold eyes turned on Cass and she shuddered, but when they shifted to Mr Remick and Ben they only looked like young boys saying goodbye to their friend and their teacher. It was Cass who didn’t fit, not Mr Remick, not Ben.

  When Mr Remick took her arm again she felt it as a stranger’s. She drifted along, only half-listening to her son and his teacher as they talked. But Mr Remick’s voice was warm when they parted at the foot of the rectory lane. The church stood above them, a black shape against a curiously pale night. The sky was pregnant with snow. Cass didn’t know what she said to him, some automatic thing, but she smiled when he said something about doing this again.

  Ben fumbled for her hand and she let him lead her. They didn’t speak again until they reached the mill and Cass tapped the code into the door. It buzzed and she turned the handle, opening it onto the dark hall.

  She turned back for Ben and saw that his eyes were cold, reflecting back the light from the entry panel, gleaming in the dark like the eyes of the boys in the school corridor. Cass remembered Jess, the streak of red on her cheek. Then Ben came inside.

  He stomped on ahead, up the stairs.

  ‘What is it? Didn’t you enjoy yourself?’ she asked.

  He turned and leaned over the balustrade. ‘I hate you,’ he said.

  ‘What? Ben, what’s got into you?’

  ‘You sent him away. You send everyone away.’