by Amy Cross
“Steady on,” the elderly man mutters. “No need to shout.”
Lloyd, meanwhile, seems amused by the outburst.
“I can't sit here and listen to this waffle!” Matilda continues, stepping around the table and storming to the door, swinging her arms while still clutching her book. “The Snowman isn't even a real person! It's just a stupid story!”
“Well there you're dead wrong,” Lloyd replies. “Actually, the police -”
“Shut up!” she yells, turning to him.
The landlady staggers back again, evidently startled by the volume.
“Night after night,” Matilda continues, her voice rippling with anger and frustration, “I've sat here and listened to you going on and on and on about the Snowman. Don't you have anything else to talk about? How old are you, anyway? Forty? Fifty? And here you are, spending your nights sitting in the basement of a crumby, rundown B&B in Canterbury, boring the rest of us to death with your wittering stories about this Snowman character! Is this how you expected your life to turn out? Do you feel a sense of contentment? Are you looking forward to doing the exact same thing tomorrow night, too? And the night after that? Forever and ever and ever?”
“It's not my fault that he's out there,” Lloyd replies forlornly.
“You're pathetic!” Matilda snaps, shaking her head as if she's disgusted by the sight of him. “Utterly, terminally pathetic! You actually want someone to get murdered tonight, don't you?”
“I never said that!”
“It's obvious! If you wake up tomorrow morning and nobody's been found dead in the snow outside, you'll be disappointed! Admit it!”
He opens his mouth to answer, but suddenly his phone buzzes again.
“Aren't you going to check that?” Matilda asks, shaking with fury now. There might even be a hint of tears in her eyes. “Go on, don't hold back on my account! Maybe you've hit the jackpot and some poor girl is dead right now! Maybe you've got another horrific story to talk about all night!” She checks her watch. “It's almost 3am, he should have struck by now, shouldn't he? Doesn't he realize there are pathetic, bloodless weirdos sitting around waiting for the good news?”
She stares at him for a moment, before stamping her left foot in anger and then storming out of the room. A moment later, I hear her stomping up the stairs, and then I turn to see that the landlady seems frozen in the corner, as if the outburst has left her completely stunned.
“Two of hearts,” the elderly man says suddenly.
Turning to him, I'm surprised to see that he and his wife have already shuffled, dealt the cards, and begun to play another round.
I turn to look at Lloyd, and I feel bad as soon as I see his hurt expression.
“I was only trying to keep the conversation going,” he mutters finally. “You know, to jolly things along a little. I didn't mean to cause offense.”
“She's highly-strung, that one,” the elderly woman replies, not taking her eyes off her cards. “It's all the reading that does it. She fills her head with nonsense, and then she doesn't understand how the real world works. I tried to get her to play with us, but she thinks she's above it all. She just sits behind us, night after night, with her nose stuck in that folly of a book. God knows what she expects.” She sniffs haughtily, making no effort to hide her disdain. “Won't get her anywhere, not in the long-run. She's just lost in her own world, with its own rules and -”
Before she can finish, the coffee machine suddenly lets out a very loud grinding sound, almost as if it's starting to eat itself. The whole thing shudders and shakes on the counter, getting louder and louder, until it falls silent just as suddenly as it started up. I stare at it, and a moment later a dribble of steaming hot water starts running down from the spout and into my cup.
“See?” Lloyd says finally. “Told you it'd get going eventually. It just takes a little time, that's all.”
Suddenly the landlady mutters something, but her panicked voice is muffled by the bandages. She hurries past the machine and out the door, and then I hear her hurrying up the stairs.
“World of her own, that one,” Lloyd continues, nudging my arm. “Nice enough, but God alone knows what goes through her head.”
“Do you know what happened to her face?” I ask. “Why does she wear those bandages?”
“I'm not entirely sure,” he replies, “although I did spot a big tube of lotion in her office once. Something to do with treating bites or stings, or inflammation of some kind. I don't entirely recall now.” He pauses. “It's a strange old set-up, to be sure. In fact, I'm not even certain that...”
His voice trails off for a moment, as if he's lost in thought.
“Well, I must have,” he adds finally, forcing a smile. “Mustn't I?”
“But she's alright?” I continue. “I mean...”
I want to ask if she's sane, or at least trustworthy, but I'm not quite sure how to phrase the question without sounding mean.
“Best not to worry too much about these things,” Lloyd says after a moment. “Take a leaf out of my book. I could be horribly offended by everything that Matilda said just now, but I just led it slide off like water from a duck's back. Other people can be strange, but you have to stay true to yourself at all times. That's the key to a happy life, and I should know. I honestly believe that I'm the happiest man I've ever met!”
He certainly seems to have recovered from his shock at Matilda's tirade, and I suppose there's something to be said for resilience. If somebody had yelled at me with such vehemence, I'd have collapsed into myself and carried the criticism around for the rest of my life, whereas Lloyd has already brushed the whole thing off. I actually envy him. Then again, I guess he might be holding onto her words deep down, even if he's not showing any signs on the surface.
“Your tea will be ready,” he tells me.
For a moment, I'm honestly not sure what he means, but then I remember and look toward the machine. Sure enough, a steaming cup of tea is waiting beneath the spout.
“You really should join us for a game,” he continues. “There's no pressure, obviously, but do you honestly think you'll be able to sleep tonight? It's already three.”
“I should probably try,” I reply, heading back over to the machine and carefully taking the cup without burning myself. Suddenly the thought of going to bed is pretty appealing. “Thanks all the same.”
“Tomorrow night, then?”
“I'm leaving in the morning.”
“Well that's a darned pity,” he continues, leaning back in his chair. “We could use a shake-up around here. Lately it feels like it's just the same people, bumbling about night after night. As you can no doubt tell, we've begun to rather get on one another's nerves.”
“I'm sure someone else will be along soon,” I tell him. “Someone new.”
He turns to the elderly couple. “Who was the last new arrival?” he asks them.
The woman shrugs, and a moment later the man does the same.
“It's so long now,” Lloyd continues, seemingly drifting into his own thoughts, “that I'm not sure I remember.”
“How long are you staying for?” I ask.
He stares into space for a few seconds, before turning to me. “Well that's a complicated matter. I'm afraid I'm not entirely...”
Again, his voice trails off.
“Well I'm sure everything will be fine,” I continue. “And now I really have to get to bed, but maybe I'll see you at breakfast before I leave.”
I wait for one of them to say something, but the old man and woman are focusing on their game while Lloyd seems suddenly lost in his own mind. I mutter something about hoping they have a fun night, and then I head out of the room. My tea is still too hot to sip, so I blow on it a little as I get to the next floor. Just as I'm about to go up the next flight of stairs, however, I feel a sudden cold gust of wind blowing against my left side. Turning, I see to my surprise that the B&B's front door has been left wide open, allowing snow from the storm to drift through and
start settling on the mat.
I look around, but there's no sign of anyone. Wandering over to the office door, I look through, but again there's no-one around at all. The hallway is getting much colder now, so I make my way to the front door, ready to swing it shut. Just as I'm about to do so, however, I spot a set of footprints in the snow outside, and a moment later I realize there are prints on the steps too. More snow is already falling and filling the prints, but it's quite clear that somebody left the building at some point during the past few minutes.
Leaning out, I look both ways along the deserted street. Snow covers the ground, while more falls from the pitch-black sky, and the only sound is the rustle of snow upon snow.
“Hello?” I call out, immediately hearing my own voice echoing back at me.
I look down at the prints again, but it's not really possible to tell anything about the person who went out. Still, I can't -
Suddenly there's a loud ringing sound from one of the B&B's nearby rooms. I turn and look back along the corridor, and I realize that the phone is ringing in the office. A moment later, I hear footsteps coming up from the basement, and Lloyd appears at the corridor's far end.
“I think somebody went outside,” I tell him.
“Is nobody else here to answer that?” he asks.
I shake my head.
Muttering something under his breath, he heads to the office door and then leans through, taking the phone off the hook and holding it to his ear.
“Hello,” he says calmly, checking his watch. “You've reached the -”
He stops suddenly, furrowing his brow as he listens to whoever's on the other end of the line.
“Who is it?” I ask, heading over to join him.
He sighs.
“Who is it?” I ask again. A moment later I hear a faint bumping sound coming from the stairs, but there's no sign of anyone when I look over.
Lloyd holds the phone up as I turn back to him, and now I can hear the voice.
“And I'm still alive,” Matilda says matter-of-factly, sounding rather pleased with herself. “I haven't been knifed or strangled yet, so I guess you were wrong about that Snowman character after all, weren't you?”
“Is she serious?” I ask, shocked by her apparent stupidity. “Did she really go out there in this weather?”
“So there's nobody here outside the public library,” she continues. “Now I think I'll go on a little tour and call you from every phone box I can find. The next one's in the cathedral precinct, isn't it? I'll give you a ring in five, Lloyd. Unless the nasty Snowman gets me first!”
She laughs as she hangs up.
“She's serious,” I stammer, watching as he puts the phone back on the hook. “What the hell is she trying to prove?”
“That I'm an old fool,” he mutters.
“You're not the only person who's talked about this Snowman guy,” I tell him.
“I might have exaggerated a little,” he continues, “but only a little. There's definitely a nasty chap who seems to commit one murder in the city every time there's snow.”
He steps past me and looks out at the snow-covered street.
“I do wish she'd been a little more sensible,” he mutters. “This is how bad situations start. It's certainly not the kind of night for a young lady to be out alone.”
Heading over to join him, I peer out at the street. The city is so quiet, it's hard to believe that anything bad could happen, but at the same time I don't like the idea of Matilda being out there by herself. It's still hard to believe that she'd be so stupid, although clearly she's been getting wound up by Lloyd for quite some time now, and I guess I understand why she'd want to make some big demonstration to prove him wrong. And she'll probably be fine. I mean, the odds of this Snowman guy actually being out there are low, and the odds of him bumping into her are even lower.
“What's that?” I ask, spotting a faint light in the distance, moving slowly along the next street.
“One of those busybodies, I imagine,” he replies.
“Who?”
“A kind of night-watch group who...” His voice trails off for a moment, as the light disappears from view. “I didn't know they were still around,” he continues. “I thought they'd disbanded a long time ago. They're just a group of old codgers who try to make themselves feel better by patrolling the streets on snowy nights. They think they can make a difference, but they can't. They've never stopped a murder yet, and they certainly won't be any use to poor Matilda.”
“I wouldn't worry too much,” I say finally, turning to him. “I'm sure she'll be -”
Suddenly the phone rings again.
“No prizes for guessing who that is,” Lloyd says with a sigh, turning and heading back to the office so he can answer. “Hello, Matilda,” he continues as he picks up the phone. “Listen, you've proved your point and -”
“I still haven't been murdered,” she replies, interrupting him as he turns the phone so I can hear it too. “Oh, the cathedral is so pretty in all this snow. I wish you could see it, but I suppose you're far too much of a scaredy-cat. One good thing about all this nonsense is that I've got the entire city to myself. I can dance and sing and do whatever I want out here, and nobody is going to stop me.”
“Maybe you should come back,” I tell her, hoping against hope that she'll listen. “Aren't you cold?”
“I'm not coming back 'til I've called from every phone box in the city,” she says firmly. “You haven't sat there for night after night, listening to Lloyd's constant rambling conversation about the Snowman. I have! God, he's so -”
Suddenly she gasps.
Lloyd and I wait, but now she's fallen silent.
“Matilda?” I say cautiously. “Are you still there?”
Again, we wait.
Finally there's a faint bumping sound on the other end of the line.
“Matilda?” I say again. “Are you -”
“It's nothing,” she mutters, sounding a little stressed. “I just... I thought I heard...”
Her voice trails off for a moment.
“It's nothing,” she adds, adding a laugh that seems forced. “I'm just all alone here in the precinct outside the cathedral, and there's no-one else around. You're just jealous, that's all. At least I'm -”
And then she gasps again.
Lloyd and I wait.
“Matilda?” I ask finally. “What's going on?”
“Nothing,” she stammers, but now she sounds much less sure of herself. “I just... It's nothing. For a moment there, I just thought I heard -”
Suddenly there's a bumping sound, followed by a brief rattle, and then what seems to be something crashing through the snow. My heart is pounding as I listen, but finally the sound fades.
“Matilda?” I ask. “Are you there?”
“Matilda?” Lloyd adds. “Come on, young lady, this isn't the right time to be playing pranks!”
The line is still open, and I think I can hear the rustle of more falling snow on the other end, but there's no longer any hint of Matilda.
“She's just trying to scare us, right?” I say finally, turning to Lloyd. “This has to be her idea of a joke!”
I wait for him to say something, but instead we simply stand in silence for a moment, waiting for some sign that Matilda is okay. As the seconds tick past, however, I can't shake the feeling that maybe this isn't a joke at all, that maybe something really has happened to her.
“Don't panic just yet,” Lloyd says cautiously, even though I can see the fear in his eyes. “I'm sure she's alright. I mean, that's what you said a moment ago, so...”
I want to tell him that she will be alright, but deep down I'm starting to worry. I pause for a moment, before turning and heading to the stairs.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Where do you think?” I hurry to my room and grab my jacket, before running back down and finding that Lloyd is standing at the open front door. “I'm going outside to find her.”
“Y
ou can't be serious!”
“Call the police,” I continue, hurrying down the steps, “and tell them -”
Suddenly my right foot slips on the ice. I reach out and grab the railing, managing just in time to keep from tumbling down, although in the process I feel a sharp pain in my arm as I pull on the muscle. I tread more carefully until I'm down in the snow, and then I look back up at Lloyd.
“Are you coming with me?” I ask breathlessly.
He hesitates for a moment. “It's not safe,” he stammers finally. “I mean... We should stay here.”
“There's no time!” I tell him. “Go to the -”
Before I can finish, I spot a figure in the distance, rushing through the snow. I squint, struggling to make the figure out properly, but all I can really tell is that it's a woman and she's not carrying a light. She has a similar dress to Matilda, and as she comes closer I'm convinced it's her. At first I breathe a sigh of relief, figuring she's coming back to the B&B, but after a moment I realize she seems to be panicking. Just as I'm about to call out to her, she takes a sudden turn, darting down a side-street and disappearing from view.
“What the heck?” I whisper, turning to Lloyd. “There's a turning just by the bank on the corner. Where does it lead?”
He furrows his brow. “That's just the alley that runs behind these buildings. It comes out around the corner, but it only goes past the rear of the B&B.”
“What's she doing going down there?” I ask. “Is she -”
Suddenly I hear a scream in the distance. Muffled and faint, but definitely a scream.
I turn to Lloyd.
“I'm sure it was nothing,” he replies, but I can see the fear in his eyes. “I was joking earlier, obviously. The odds of her running into the Snowman are so small... Please, you mustn't put yourself at risk for such an irritating young lady.”
“I'm going to check the alley,” I stammer, hurrying past him and heading through to the rear of the building. “Lloyd, call the police!”
“But -”
“Call them!”
It takes a moment, but finally I find the back door and I spill out into the pitch-black, snow-covered alley just in time to hear another scream. And this time, it's definitely Matilda.