Alison Littlewood

by A Cold Season

  ‘No, Bert, there’s nothing. It would be great if you could do that for me, but I’d understand if you didn’t want to go. I’ll work it out somehow.’

  Bert folded the envelope and stuffed it in his pocket. ‘I’ll tek it for you, love. I hope it all works out, that’s all.’

  ‘It’s kind of you.’

  ‘Just one thing,’ he said.

  Cass waited.

  ‘I’m going, like I say, but he’s too old. He’ll not make it o’er t’ tops.’

  It took her a moment to realise he meant Captain.

  ‘I need to leave him at ’ome. I can leave him ’ere, but – well, I wondered if you might tek him.’

  Cass’ mouth fell open.

  ‘He’s not used to being on his own.’

  ‘Bert, I’m really sorry – I know you’re helping me, and I’d like to help you in return, but I have to think of Ben. Captain went for him the other day. I just can’t take the risk.’

  ‘No, no.’ Bert hung his head. ‘I’d forgot that. It’s not like him, you see. But no, it’s all reet. He’ll be fine here, will Captain.’

  The dog’s ears twitched at the mention of his name.

  ‘He’ll probably be glad of the rest, wi’out me dragging him all ower.’

  ‘I wish I could.’

  ‘I know, love, no, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked. Just a thought, tha’s all. Don’t you go minding about it. We’ll be fine, me an’ Captain.’

  They walked back down the stairs in silence, Bert hanging onto the rail. He rattled the door open and looked up at the sky. ‘No let-up yet,’ he said as fine flakes drifted down. ‘No, I’d best be off soon. I can smell it in the air, can’t you?’

  Cass sniffed and looked about. When she looked back at Bert he was smiling at her.

  ‘Take care o’ that lad o’ yours,’ he said, as he closed the door.

  Cass watched the snowflakes falling outside her window. They were thicker now, heavier. She imagined Bert huddled in his coat, bent into the wind, going up the hill one slow step at a time, and Captain, whining at home for his master.

  She shouldn’t have let him go.

  But he was probably well on his way to town, already looking forward to a drink in the nearest pub. He was used to walking, he knew the land. He knew what he was letting himself in for, and anyway, he’d said he had his own business to settle on the other side of the moors.

  Cass had to stop worrying about Bert; there was something she needed to do. She hadn’t been able to put Ben’s drawing out of her mind. It was hard to shake the feeling that her son knew something about his father that she’d never even guessed at, but of course that couldn’t be true. The picture had come from Ben’s imagination, or maybe something he’d seen in his game or on television.

  Pete’s letters were in Cass’ mind all the same. It was time to sort through them. To try and gain some clue as to the person her husband might have become.

  Then to get rid of them, move on.

  The bundle looked so small once she held it in the daylight. Such a little thing to show for their years together: a few observations, impressions of people and places she hadn’t seen and never would. Cass lifted them to her face. A faint dusty smell rose from them, like something already beginning to decay.

  She’d tucked Ben’s picture into the box. It wasn’t the image that hurt any more, it was his words: He sexed her.

  Cass pulled open the ribbon and spread the letters on the floor.

  I saw a young boy today. He was maybe five or six. He sort of reminded me of Ben, and yet he didn’t. Is that weird? But there was something in his eyes. Knowledge, I suppose. Or the total absence of hope.

  It wasn’t till I’d gone past I saw his leg was taken off at the knee.

  Cass shook her head. It wasn’t what she was looking for.

  When I come home, I’ll bring you the blue stones. The most expensive colour in the world.

  I love you, Cass. I always will.

  Cass caught her breath, held the letter to her face and closed her eyes, waiting for the tears to come. But they did not. Instead she saw Theo Remick’s eyes, clear and candid, as if everything was straightforward, already decided between them.

  She gathered the letters together and stood. She should get rid of them all: a statement, if only to herself, that she was ready to move on.

  And yet she turned and threw them back into the box and kicked it under the bed. What if she needed them one day? She might need his voice for company.

  And Ben might want to read them when he was older. Of course he would.

  Cass poked her foot under the bed, giving the box a last shove. They could stay there. She would leave them in the dark until she had forgotten about them.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Cass pulled a silk top from the wardrobe and held it against her body. Pete had loved that one. He had made her buy it, though she hadn’t wanted to spend the money. She put it back. Saw a flash of red at the back. Red. It was a little obvious, but did it matter? She was a grown woman with lines in her forehead and a son to collect. No, it didn’t matter. She put it on, seeing the way it made her hair brighter, made her eyes shine.

  He sexed her.

  Yes, it would do.

  She tried not to think of Pete but couldn’t help comparing them in her mind. She knew that Theo would never be loud, never be laddish like Pete. Did she miss that? She pressed her lips together. But wasn’t Theo Remick the sort of man she’d have chosen for herself, before she met her husband?

  Cass shook her head, brushed mascara onto her lashes and slicked gloss over her lips. Remembered the feel of Remick’s lips on her neck. She grabbed her bag and prepared to set out.

  The school had already closed. A couple of children lingered, a boy and a girl. They wandered away, their coats bright against the snow.

  The corridor was empty. Cass walked down it, her footsteps too loud, her heartbeat too fast. She knocked at Theo’s office.

  ‘Here,’ he said from behind her. He stood at a classroom door, a gaunt figure. He looked at her with those eyes. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted. And yet he was a stranger, someone she hardly knew.

  He reached out, touched her hair and smiled, and didn’t say anything, and that was all right because she could see in his face she did know him after all. He was the one who made her smile, someone her son looked up to, became his old self with.

  ‘Well, Ms Cassidy.’

  ‘Well, Mr Remick.’

  ‘I’m half tempted to kiss you right here, but it would be most unprofessional.’

  Cass kept her gaze on him and stepped forward. She pressed her body against his, his thin, tall body and kissed his lips. He pulled away, rested his head against her neck, turning the kiss into a warm hug. ‘I’m glad you came,’ he said. ‘There’s been no one like you here for a very long time.’

  She stirred, wondered about his past, and realised she didn’t want to know.

  They walked outside together. He locked up, then Cass took his arm and they started towards the road, sharing the silence. Snow billowed around them, and although the sun had already faded the sky was white except for an orange stain from the streetlights. An icy flake settled on Cass’ lips and she opened her mouth, felt the coldness dissolving on her tongue.

  Cass drank and the wine threaded into her. Mr Remick had led her straight to the sofa this time. ‘Talk to me from here,’ he said. ‘This one’s a surprise.’

  She’d forgotten how small the room was, but it was warm and inviting; it didn’t have that empty feeling the mill had. Theo lit candles and shadows wavered about his face. Cass sat down and ran her hands over the sofa. The fabric felt clean, new, as though it had never been used. She remembered Bert’s faded living room and smiled, tried not to think of him out walking in the cold.

  She took another sip of wine. Bert was no doubt tucked up by some warm hearth by now, enjoying a drink of his own.

  She felt Theo’s hand on her shoulder and ju
mped, splashing wine across her jacket.

  ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. Here, let me take it.’

  Cass set down the glass and slipped off her coat.

  He looked at her appreciatively. ‘You look nice.’ Before she could speak he handed her a dish of fat black olives and retreated to the kitchen. They were pungent, salty, bursting on her tongue.

  Soon she smelled rich tomatoes, baking cheese. He showed her into the dining room and refilled her glass. The table was spread with silver, ornate cutlery, and wax dripped from the creamy candles in the gilt candlesticks. They set lights in Theo’s eyes, and Cass wondered if they did the same for her. They ate lasagne, hearty and good, with green salad.

  She opened her mouth to compliment him, to ask how he came by the fresh salad leaves, but he raised a hand and stopped her. ‘Shh,’ he said. ‘Don’t talk.’

  For the first time Cass didn’t know what to do with the silence between them. She wanted to break it, but Theo shook his head. ‘I know what you’re going to say: you have to go and collect your son – but you don’t need to leave unless you want to, Cass. Sally has offered to let Ben stay. Your son will be fine.’ He moved around the table and touched his finger to her lips, stalling her words. ‘I realise it was presumptuous of her, but she’s more of a friend than you realise, and it gives you a choice. I like you, Cass. I want you to stay with me.’

  She stared. His face was serious, his eyes intense. She wanted to say she couldn’t; she had to go, and yet she didn’t speak. An image of Pete came into her mind, and Ben’s drawing. Tears came to her eyes.

  He didn’t ask why, didn’t make any comment. He leaned towards Cass and kissed her cheek. His breath was warm. She could put out a hand and touch his chest – and she did, feeling the softness of his sweater. She closed her eyes, parted her lips.

  Theo pulled away. ‘Stay with me,’ he said.

  She nodded and he drew her up. She kissed him, harder this time, and he moved her back against the wall, pressing against her. Cass’ hands were on the back of his head, caught in the short softness of his hair. His lips met hers once more, hungry, firing energy through her.

  ‘Come upstairs,’ he whispered and caught her hand, leading her out of the room and up a dark stairway. He didn’t switch on the light.

  The bed looked as old as the house, broad and solid. Theo drew Cass to it and as she fell back she felt his weight on her, his tongue meeting hers. Her blouse was thrown to the floor, a red rag, and now his hands were on her: exploring her back, stroking her neck, supporting her while his tongue caressed her spine. She heard the sound their breath made, rising together without words.

  Theo framed her face in his hands while he moved on top of her, found the place their bodies fitted. He eased inside her, paused before pushing his hips against hers. All these things she remembered: him moving against her, the strength of his narrow hips, the sound of his breath against her neck, the wetness of his tongue on her collarbone.

  She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she found Theo watching her. His hands were on her body, stroking her, touching her, in her, and suddenly her heart contracted. It turned to pain, as though he had caressed that too, the living, beating muscle at her centre. Cass looked down at his hands. They were resting on her breasts, his fingertips smoothing her nipples. On the surface of her skin.

  Then he thrust harder and she cried out because heat blossomed inside her and it felt like everything; an encompassing heat that didn’t fade even after he pulled away and lay down at her side, one hand resting on her belly.

  The heat was still there. Cass twisted away from him, drawing her legs under her. Closed her eyes. She felt hands pulling her close, holding her. She stayed where she was, keeping her eyes tight shut. Watching the darkness behind the lids.

  All these things she remembered, and yet she remembered nothing clearly, nothing in focus. There was a series of impressions and deep physical joy, but nothing more.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Cass woke in the night and turned to see Theo lying next to her. His face was motionless. She watched for the rise and fall of his breath and couldn’t see it. There was still heat, though, radiating from his body. She could feel his heat inside her too, but her skin was cold all over. Her shoulder was gooseflesh. Theo slept on. Cass shivered.

  This was the man she’d slept with. She watched him now and tried to regain that sense of togetherness, of being comfortable. The way they’d shared a silence had been easy, good. Now she wanted something to break it, ripple the surface, to give her a reason to get out.

  Inside her, the heat burned. Cass wrapped her arms around herself, moving her fingers as though brushing his touch from her skin. She shouldn’t have stayed. It was too soon, that was all. When he woke and looked at her it would be all right, it would be different. Cass closed her eyes.

  It had never been like this with Pete. He’d slept with his arm under his head, breathing loudly, deeply. Often he snored, a living familiar sound. Not like this silence. Cass knew she couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t sleep with this motionless man next to her. If he should reach out in the night, touch her … Revulsion rippled across her skin.

  What was wrong with her? Theo Remick was a decent man, a solid man, someone she could talk to. He made her laugh, made Ben laugh. He was a good man.

  Cass shivered and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the night air cold on her body, and stood without making a sound.

  In the early morning she showered, afraid to wake Theo but unable to bear the idea of his hands all over her skin, running over her breasts, legs, shoulders, thighs, the centre of her. The way her heart had clenched as he touched her.

  She ran the water cold and stood beneath it as long as she could.

  Theo came to her while she sat on the sofa, staring at the floor. He stroked her dripping hair, planted a light kiss on her head, but didn’t speak. He went away and a few minutes later brought in a tray piled with toast, eggs and bacon. The smell repulsed her and she turned her face away.

  ‘Cass?’

  She looked at him.

  ‘It was good,’ he said, and smiled.

  ‘Yes. Good.’

  ‘I felt like we truly connected. Didn’t you feel that, Cass?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Are you all right? You look pale.’

  She glanced at him, looked away again. ‘I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I need a shower,’ she said, and caught her breath; realised that she’d just had a shower.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

  ‘I need to get Ben.’ She stood. She hadn’t touched the food.

  ‘You can’t – he’s with Sally, remember? He’s going to school with her. It’s a little early to call in, don’t you think?’

  ‘Of course. Of course it is.’ Cass wanted to feel her son in her arms, bury her face in his hair.

  He sexed her.

  She shuddered, pushed the thought away.

  Theo reached out and touched her shoulder, and Cass jumped. ‘Is it something I did?’

  She looked up. Light streamed through the curtains, a new day. Ben was at Sally’s, and she was here. It had been good; she knew it had been good. ‘Theo, I’m sorry. I feel a little strange. Too much wine, maybe.’

  ‘Yes. Maybe.’

  ‘A walk would do me good. Some fresh air. I’ll go home. It’s fine, honestly. I just need to wake myself up a bit.’ She paused. ‘It’s been a long time. I’m not used to waking up with someone.’

  She felt Theo’s eyes on her but she couldn’t meet his look.

  ‘Cass, I know you lost your husband. If it was too soon, I’m sorry.’

  He sexed her. Sexed her.

  ‘No, it wasn’t; it’s time I moved on. But I just didn’t sleep too well.’ This time Cass met his eyes.

  ‘You don’t have to feel bad. Your life is your own.’

  She smiled, too brightly.

  ‘You made the righ
t choice, Cass. You may not see it now, but—’

  She stood, still smiling, and a moment later she had grabbed her coat and was walking down the road, pulling it on, wrapping it tightly about her body.

  The further she walked from the rectory the more Cass’ head cleared. The air was icy on her wet hair and she flicked it away from her neck. She must look ridiculous, hurrying through the streets with dripping hair. What had made her leave like that? Theo Remick had done nothing wrong – and he had been right: it had been good.

  It had been very good.

  All the same, as soon as she reached the mill she would climb into the shower, turn it on full and stand under it for a long time. Her skin still crawled with his touch. It didn’t help that she had no reason to feel guilty. Pete had been gone a long time; he would want her to rebuild her life. That had been the whole purpose of coming here.

  Cass wished Ben was with her. She would shut the door on the world, keep him from school and stay inside. He could play his wretched video games all day if he wanted. She frowned. It was fortunate that Ben was with Sally. She shouldn’t be so selfish. He was happy in Darnshaw, happy at the school. And she should hurry, make sure she got home before any of the other mothers saw her like this. She could only imagine what Lucy might think.

  Thinking of Lucy reminded Cass of her client.

  Once inside the apartment she didn’t shower after all; there was no time. She dried her hair and put her coat back on, then walked to the top of the lane and watched for Lucy’s car, shifting her weight from foot to foot to keep warm. After a time a Land Rover did go past, but it was silver, not black – not her friend’s. Where was she? Perhaps Jessica was ill. Perhaps she was afraid to go to school after what had happened with Ben.

  Cass waited. If she stood here a while she might even see Bert, back from his trip over the moor. She leaned against the wall.

  After a time the silver car headed back in the other direction. A face peered at her out of the window, but still Lucy didn’t come.