White Silence

by Jodi Taylor

  ‘Ours? You’re not involving me in this. I’ll wait at the bottom. With bandages.’

  The park was full of families, all shouting at the tops of their voices and falling over. ‘I’ve never seen so many children,’ said Jones, looking around in bewilderment. ‘Where do they all come from?’

  ‘Well, when two people love each other very much …’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, Cage.’

  And dogs. There were dogs everywhere, having a wonderful time. Some were running about barking. Some were digging as if their lives depended on it. Several sat on sledges with their owners and were whizzing down the slope, ears and tongues flapping with excitement.

  ‘That will be you,’ said Jones, laying his gigantic piece of bin liner covered cardboard on the ground. I distinctly heard someone say, ‘Wow, look at that. Cool.’

  ‘It’s never going to work,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, it will. We’ve got here just in time. The snow is all compacted. We’re going to go like the wind.’

  ‘The river’s at the bottom,’ I said doubtfully, looking at the wide, winding white Rush with just a narrow dark line of unfrozen water down the middle.

  ‘We’ll never get that far,’ he said comfortingly. ‘Now, you get up front.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’re my airbag. I’ll sit behind you, hold you on and steer. Come on.’

  There was no arguing with him. Very carefully I seated myself at the front.

  ‘Hold tight,’ he said.

  ‘To what?’

  ‘Me,’ he said, wrapping himself around me. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Not really, no.’

  Too late. We were off. He was right. We went like the wind.

  ‘It’s all the extra weight,’ he shouted in my ear. ‘That’s why I brought you.’

  I could hear people cheering us on. From somewhere along the way we’d collected a whole pack of dogs who ran enthusiastically alongside, alternately barking and snapping at the cardboard.

  I could see my breath puffing in the bright sunshine and feel the icy wind in my face. We hit a bump that sent us off on a new path, leaving the dogs behind us, and finished the rest of the run backwards, facing up the way we had come. Despite my worst fears, we did not fall in the river but became entangled in some shrubbery instead. I fell off.

  ‘That was brilliant,’ shouted Jones, hoisting me to my feet and dusting off the loose snow. ‘Let’s do it again.’

  We struggled back up the hill, which was considerably steeper going up than coming down and did it again. And again. We were challenged by two boys who each had their own tea tray and a few other people joined in. Someone shouted, ‘Ready, steady, go,’ and off we went again.

  ‘Go on, admit it,’ said Jones, picking me up and dusting me off for the umpteenth time. ‘You’re having a great time.’ And actually, I was. ‘Do you want to have a go on your own?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, but you do it.’

  There was no chance for him. As soon as he sat down he found himself loaded up with small children. They clambered all over him. I think there was even a cocker spaniel in there somewhere. Either that or a very odd-looking child. Two parents launched them, they spun around and completed the whole trip backwards. They all fell off at the end, including the dog. Everyone was laughing. It was a wonderful afternoon. Jones was almost completely white, except for his face which was flushed with excitement and exertion. His colour roiled around him, such a kaleidoscope of peach, gold, pink and cream that I was astonished no one else could see it.

  A burger van turned up and we both had hot dogs. Well, I had one. Jones had three.

  There were TV cameras there and at their request, we all lined up at the top of the hill for a spectacular finale to a report on the meteorological phenomenon of snow in winter.

  ‘Three, two, one,’ and off we all went. It must have looked like a cavalry charge on cardboard.

  ‘Hold on,’ shouted Jones in my ear. ‘Try not to fall off this time.’

  And I didn’t. We reached the bottom in one piece. I stood up and punched the air, shouting, ‘Yes!’ and two small girls and their mother, careering downhill completely out of control and unable to stop in time, hit me hard, and I crashed backwards onto the ice-hard snow.

  Everything went dark but that might just have been Jones’s head blocking out the sun.

  ‘Cage, are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, trying to lift my head.

  ‘No, just lay still for a moment.’

  I did as I was told, feeling the icy cold bleed through my clothes. ‘No, I’m fine, let me get up.’

  He helped me up. ‘Are you sure? You look a bit shaken. Did you bang your head?’

  ‘No. Not at all. I fell on my shoulder.’

  ‘I still think I should take you to be checked out.’

  ‘No, really, I’m fine.’

  ‘Well let’s get you home anyway. The sun’s going down and it’s going to snow again.’

  He was right. We must have been here for hours because the sun had nearly gone. Ominous clouds were beginning to gather over the horizon. A snowflake drifted down. And then another.

  He picked up his by now quite tattered piece of cardboard and offered it around. ‘Anyone interested?’There was a storm of ‘yes’es and we left them to it.

  We were just leaving the park when his phone began to ring.

  He cursed, pulled it out, tapped the screen and spoke. ‘This had better be good.’

  I knew it wasn’t. He was silent for a long time which is never good in telephone calls. I stood and watched as his colour contracted around him.

  ‘Can’t someone else go?’

  Silence.

  ‘Can’t it wait? The weather’s not looking good.’

  More silence.

  Finally, he said, ‘OK,’ and snapped it shut.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Cage, I’m sorry, I have to go.’

  ‘Go where?’

  ‘Up north. Well, the Midlands anyway.’

  I felt an icy fear that had nothing to do with the current temperatures. ‘Not Droitwich?’

  He smiled and put his arm around me. ‘No. Not Droitwich. Promise.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘Tonight definitely, but I should be back by tomorrow lunchtime. I’m sorry about this. Do you want to stay at my place tonight or go back to your own?’

  I thought about being alone in that big flat. ‘I’ll go home, I think.’

  ‘OK. That’s probably a better idea. I don’t know exactly when I’ll be back.’

  ‘But you are coming back.’

  ‘I’m definitely coming back.’

  Back at his apartment, we gathered my stuff together which didn’t take long and he packed a bag.

  I gestured at the snow now beginning to come down quite heavily. ‘You’re not driving in this, are you?’

  ‘No. I’m being collected.’ He said no more and I didn’t ask.

  I felt quite sad to leave his flat. I’d enjoyed myself here. And there had been that moment …

  He seemed to sense this. ‘I am sorry, Cage. It’s a pretty poor host who asks a friend for Christmas and then pushes off and leaves her.’

  ‘It’s OK. I understand. And I’ll be fine at my place. And this time tomorrow you could be back again.’

  He grinned down at me. ‘I’d better be.’

  We set off back to my house. The streets had emptied and the snow was really beginning to come down hard as we crossed the medieval bridge. We trudged along, heads down.

  ‘Are you really going to travel in this?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about getting you back home safely.’

  We passed under the arch and out into Castle Close. I stopped. Even in the fast fading light it was a wonderful sight. The snow completely obscured the very few trappings of modern life that had made it up the hill, and except for the modern streetlights, the scene before us could have come from any time in
the last five centuries. The outline of the castle was dark and dramatic against the lowering sky. The uneven roofline of the surrounding houses, with their twisted chimney stacks and brightly lit windows, a comforting contrast. The snow before us was unmarked. It would seem that no one had been out all day.

  ‘Seems a pity to spoil it,’ said Jones, ‘but I must go and you should be inside.’

  ‘You don’t have to come to my door. I do know the way.’

  ‘Certainly not,’ he said primly. ‘Heroes always see the heroine to her own front door.’

  I sighed idiotically. ‘My hero.’

  ‘I’d better be. You’re certainly my heroine.’

  I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but before I had time to feel embarrassed he picked up my suitcase and we trudged the last few yards, heads down in the whirling snow. As we passed the first streetlight I thought I saw a figure standing beneath it, collar turned up, hands thrust deep into his pockets. I wondered whether he was there waiting for Jones.

  Colonel Barton was just drawing his curtains as we passed. He waved. We waved back. I decided I would call in to see them tomorrow and ask how their Christmas had gone.

  I opened my front door, and suddenly I was home. I let the warmth and welcome of my little house wash over me. Jones put down my suitcase and handed me a carrier bag. ‘I thought I’d better carry this myself since you’re not too steady on your feet these days.’

  I pulled out my beautiful red bowl and gave it pride of place on the coffee table.

  ‘Very nice’, he said approvingly. ‘Now I must go.’

  We looked at each other.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ I said.

  He turned away and then turned back again. ‘I think both of us will need to take things very slowly but I want to try. Can we talk about this when I get back?’

  ‘I would like that.’

  We looked at each other some more and it suddenly seemed churlish to let him go back out into the snow without a kiss, so I stood on tiptoe and kissed him. He responded with such enthusiasm that I began to have concerns he would be late.

  ‘Go,’ I said, pushing him gently towards the door.

  He laughed. ‘See you tomorrow, Cage. Try to stay out of trouble until then.’

  ‘Pot,’ I said. ‘Kettle. Black.’

  He ran down the steps and out into the snow. The wind had risen. The whirling snow had ceased to dance. Now it looked … angry. I shivered. This was not a night on which to be out. I hoped he arrived at his destination safely. Wherever that was. I watched him tramp off out of sight. He marched straight past the figure under the lamppost. As he reached the arch, I thought he turned and waved to me just before he passed out of sight, but the snow was so thick I couldn’t tell. I closed the front door, locked it and pulled the curtain across. It was a night for being indoors, snug and warm.

  It didn’t take me long to unpack my suitcase. I put everything out for washing, kicked the case under the bed and went for the sort of long hot bath you really need after being dumped in a snowdrift ten times in one afternoon. I put on some Mozart and lay back in the fragrant steam while warmth flowed back into my chilled bones. Wild horses could not have shifted me. At some point, I thought I heard the telephone ring, but it sounded so faint and far off that I thought I must be mistaken and I couldn’t be bothered to get out and check.

  It was hunger that shifted me in the end. It seemed far too much effort to cook anything, but soup and a sandwich in front of the TV sounded good. With luck, I might even catch the end of James and whichever world-ending peril he was saving us all from this year.

  I pulled on a thick sweatshirt and jeans and still towelling my hair dry, I wandered across to the bedroom window to look out at the snow. Pulling aside the curtain I peered out into the night. Snow was still falling, white and silent. Jones’s footprints had long since been covered over.

  Amazingly, the man was still there. Still standing under the lamppost in a tiny circle of light. Except not the first lamppost any longer. He had moved. Now he was standing under the second one.

  There are six streetlights in our close. When he reached the third one he would be directly opposite my house. I don’t know what put that thought into my head. This was obviously just a man waiting for someone.

  ‘In this weather?’ said my common sense. ‘And you were in that bath for over half an hour. And he was here when you arrived. And he’s getting closer.’

  As I pulled the curtain to and turned away, the telephone on my bedside table began to ring, but faintly, as if not enough power was getting through. I stared at it, wondering if the weather was affecting the electricity, although the lights seemed bright enough. No, it wasn’t the power, it was more like … as if the sound was coming from far away. From a great distance. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck lift. To calm myself a little, I took a moment to fold the towel over the radiator and then picked up the receiver.

  There was a long-distance crackly noise and then, faint and far away, Ted’s voice said, ‘I have found you. You are about to die.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I panicked.

  Slamming down the receiver, I backed away from the phone. As if that would keep me safe. My first thought was – is everything locked up? Can anything get in?

  I ran from room to room, checking all the windows were closed and the curtains fully drawn. I switched on every light as I went. For some reason, it was important to flood my house with light. Overhead lights, bedside lights, even the old standard lamp in the corner. I switched on the mirror light in the bathroom and the spotlights in the kitchen. I even turned on the cooker light. I stumbled down the cellar stairs, dragging my fingers down the rough brick walls as I went, and checked the high window was closed. Which it was. In fact, not only was it closed but snow had piled against it. I could see the grey outline through the dirty glass. I left the light on in the cellar as well.

  I knew the front door was locked and bolted but I checked again anyway, making sure the bolt was rammed home. And the back door. And the kitchen window. I peered cautiously through the blinds but the snow in my tiny backyard was unmarked. Nothing had been out there. I switched on the outside light. Dark shadows flew away and I could see the big padlock on the back gate was intact.

  Everything was locked up and secure. I was as safe as I could be. I stood in the middle of my living room, panting slightly. My heart was hammering and I felt sick. Having no idea from which direction danger would come, I turned slowly, my eyes darting around the room, trying to see everything at once. To be ready. Ready for anything that might come at me. The only sound was my own rapid breathing.

  The phone rang again. Louder this time and getting louder all the time. Or getting closer. The sound was strident in the silence. I stared at it. It rang again. And again. On and on and on.

  I had a choice. I didn’t have to pick it up. I could just leave it to ring and ring for ever. We’ve all watched those thrillers where someone is receiving threatening telephone calls and you keep thinking ‘Don’t answer the phone, idiot,’ but there’s something about a telephone ringing. You just can’t help yourself.

  I reached out, slowly picked up the receiver and held it to my ear.

  Ted’s voice was closer. Not so faint now, although the static-filled background was still there. ‘Elizabeth. You are about to die. I am coming.’

  Suddenly I knew who the figure across the street was. Now I needed to know where he was. I ran to the window.

  He was standing under the third lamppost. The one directly opposite my house. Not twenty feet away, and barely visible through the swirling snow, but he was there. He stood motionless, his hands still in his pockets. His face still concealed by his coat collar, but it was Ted. I knew it was Ted. I whispered his name in disbelief. He couldn’t possibly have heard me, but slowly, very slowly, he lifted his head and looked up at me.

  My breath caught in my throat. I let the curtain fall and stepped back, panic shortening my br
eath and making my heart race. I was trapped. I couldn’t get out the back way. The gate was locked and I couldn’t remember what I’d done with the key. And I certainly couldn’t get out the front way. Ted was there. And every time I looked he was that little bit closer. Where would he be the next time I looked? And why was he here? This was Ted. Ted wouldn’t hurt me. Ted loved me. I’d loved him. I caught my breath. He’d loved me very much but now I stood on the threshold of a relationship with another man. Nothing much had happened yet, but it would. We both knew it would. Because life moves on and so do people. If they’re allowed to. Was that why he was here? I couldn’t believe it. I heard his voice in my head. I have found you. And then, you are about to die. I am coming. Had Ted loved me so much he would kill me if I even considered being with someone else? And most importantly, while I was wasting time thinking about all this, where was he now?

  I ran back upstairs, intending to take a peep through the window, but as I burst into the bedroom, the extension began to ring again. I picked it up. I didn’t even have to put it to my ear. The voice was speaking even as I lifted the receiver.

  ‘You are about to die. I am coming.’

  I slammed it back down, switched out the light so I could see without being seen myself, and ran to the window. He’d gone. Even through the whirling snow I could see the street was empty. Craning my head, I looked up towards the café and down towards the archway. The street was empty. Each streetlight had its own little nimbus of light around which the wild snow danced, but there was no sign of anyone anywhere. There were no footprints in the snow. No nothing.

  Except, from here, I couldn’t see my own front door. Suppose he was just on the other side. Waiting.

  I looked back at the phone, sitting silently on my bedside table. Giving it a wide berth, I crept slowly out of my bedroom and back down the stairs, closing all the doors firmly behind me. I would have locked them, but the keys had been lost years ago. The house was completely quiet. Not a board creaked. Skirting the sofa and the coffee table, I crossed to the front window. The one that looked out over the steps and my front door. The one from which I could see if anyone – anything – was there. I should look. I must know. I told myself there was nothing to fear. He’d gone. And the phone was silent. I was alone. Wasn’t I?