A Cold Season (13 page)

The dog jumped up at her, snarling; then it looked as if it was trying to stop itself in mid-air. Its legs flailed and the snarl became a high, piercing sound that hurt Cass’ ears. It turned and fled back into the house.

The woman stared after the dog. Then she turned to Cass, raising her eyebrows in query.

Cass said, ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I wondered if you sold eggs and things? I thought—’

‘Jack,’ the woman called, looking over her shoulder. ‘Jack!’ She shot a suspicious glance at Cass before pushing the door to and walking away. Cass heard murmuring from inside, then a man’s wrinkled face appeared in the doorway.

He nodded at Cass, so she nodded back. ‘I wondered if you had any eggs for sale. The shop in the village is closed, and—’

‘We’ve nowt,’ he said. ‘Only for t’ locals.’

‘But we are local. We just moved in to the old mill and we’re snowed in. We could really do with—’

Cass’ words faded as the old man swung the door closed in her face. It jolted against the jamb, catching on something. She heard him pushing on it, and a bolt snicked into place.

‘Great,’ Cass muttered, staring at the door. So much for thinking of Darnshaw as their home.

Ten minutes later Cass and Ben were within sight of the mill. When they reached the road Ben practically skipped ahead.

‘Ben, wait,’ Cass called, ‘there’s something I need to do.’

‘I’m tired.’

‘It’s not far, and it’ll save us coming out again later.’

‘I can stay inside.’

‘No, you can’t, not on your own.’

A loud sigh.

‘Come on. We’re going into the village.’

Cass expected the post office to be closed like the shop, but when she pushed the door, it opened with a loud jingle of chimes.

A woman with slate-grey hair stood behind a plastic screen. ‘The new lady,’ she said when she saw them, ‘from the mill.’

The woman’s cheerful manner made Cass brighten. ‘Call me Cass. “Lady” makes me feel old.’

‘I’m Irene. And who’s this young man?’

Cass nudged her son. ‘Ben,’ he said. ‘I should be in school.’

‘Goodness.’ Irene pulled a face. ‘Keen, isn’t he? I couldn’t wait to get out of school at his age.’ She let out a squeal of laughter. ‘Hope you enjoyed the papers.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Didn’t you get them? That lad.’ She tutted. ‘He was supposed to put them under your door. We’ve got the code to get in, you know, so we can get to the mailboxes.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘You were supposed to get some free papers. We do it for anyone new to the village, for a week anyway. Of course we hope they’ll order more after that. Not that there are many new arrivals round here. A quiet set, we are.’

The mysterious neighbour and his newspaper delivery. Cass’ heart sank. She was the only one, after all, the only resident of Foxdene Mill. She licked her lips. ‘I think they
were sent to Number 10. I saw them; I just didn’t realise they were for me.’

‘Oh now. I thought you was at Number 10. I’m sure we had a letter for you there.’

‘You did?’

‘Aye. Now, it might have been put in the mailbox, or under the door. I’m sure … ’ Her voice tailed away. ‘By the way, we haven’t had any more deliveries, not after the first couple of days, what with the snow an’ all. Or you’d have had more. Papers, I mean.’

‘No problem. Thank you for the ones you sent.’

‘We’ve not had any post in or out for the last couple of days. It stopped just after you got here, I reckon.’ Irene laughed.

No post, in or out
. ‘I was hoping to send something,’ Cass said, ‘a disk with some files on it. I thought I might be able to buy a Jiffy Bag and send it off today.’

Irene pursed her lips. ‘Sorry, love. The post’s collected from Gillaholme, and the van can’t get here.’

‘No,’ said Cass under her breath, ‘no, of course it can’t.’

‘You must think you’re in the back of beyond, what with no phones and no post. Hope it’s not causing any problems for you.’ Irene rummaged on a shelf. When she turned she had a Mars Bar in her hand. She flapped it at Ben.

‘Here you are, young man. Welcome to Darnshaw.’

She winked at Cass as they said their goodbyes. ‘’appen he can take it to school.’

Cass let Ben in at the apartment door. He slipped under her arm, pressing against the opening until it was wide enough to get through, reminding her of the farmer’s dog. ‘Be good for a minute,’ she said, putting on the latch. Ben turned, but he didn’t ask where Cass was going. He shrugged off his coat and she saw him drop it on the hall floor.

There was one more thing to do before she had to resign herself to being in her new flat, the door closed on the world.
Home
.

The newspapers were still there at Number 10, crumpled where they’d been pushed up against the door. Cass picked them up. Old news, and yet she hadn’t seen any of it, hadn’t even watched the news on television. She must be getting insular, now she was – how had Irene put it? – in the back of beyond.

She shook out the pages of the newspapers one by one. A few fliers fell out, for florists, cheap trousers and carpet cleaning services. No letter.

She dropped to her knees and put her face almost to the floor. Under the door she could see the edge of an envelope, a thin line against the carpet. She poked a finger into the gap and tried to grip it, scraping her skin against the rough wood. She tried again, touching the edge of the letter, and it moved a little. The corner of a white envelope appeared and she pulled it free. It was addressed to her at 10 Foxdene Mill.

Cass recognised the handwriting at once. She pulled a face, folded the letter and shoved it deep into her back pocket.

Inside the apartment Ben was playing his game, shooting soldiers in the sepia desert where red flowers bloomed and died. He didn’t look round.

Cass went into her room and pushed the door closed. The envelope was thick and white with an embossed crest. She ran her fingers along it.

The note was brief, and yet it took her a long time to read it. The words blurred and shifted under her eyes.

Sweetheart,

I know you may not want to believe this, but I do love you. I heard what happened to Peter. I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do, please know you can always call me
.

I heard you’re going back to Darnshaw. I don’t know what to think about that. I’ll pray for you both. Always thinking of you – as a priest and your father. Will write again soon
.

Cass crumpled up the letter and held it to her face.
As a priest and your father
. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He could never really be both. And why now? He only ever surfaced when anything changed in her life, as though he wanted to be privy to her every decision. She remembered the letter he had written when she’d got engaged to Pete. She had smiled when she opened it, expecting good wishes, or at most some thinly veiled request that she have a church ceremony. Certainly not what she received:

He’s not good for you. I feel it. He will bring harm upon you and yours that will follow you all your days. You should turn to the Lord. He loves you
.

She had crumpled up that letter too, crumpled it and torn it to shreds. She had never replied to any of her father’s letters after that.

He’s not good for you
.

Well, her father had been right about that, hadn’t he? Look at her now: alone in an empty building with a son who wouldn’t look at her. Even her one and only client thought she was going mad. Would her father be pleased to know he had been right all along? Cass felt the thought worm its way inside her; knew it was wrong, that she shouldn’t indulge it. She was too old for self-pity, had too much responsibility. Tears sprang to her eyes anyway.
Pete
. Oh God, to have him back, if only for a little while.

A sound broke into her thoughts. At first she didn’t know what it was, then it came again and she realised someone was knocking at the front door. Cass wiped her eyes, hoping they didn’t look red. When she saw Mr Remick standing in the doorway guilt turned in her stomach.

‘I’m so sorry Ben didn’t come to school today,’ she began.

He held up a hand. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I’m not in the habit of making home visits when pupils don’t turn up. If I did that I’d be at it all day at the moment. I’m sure you had a good reason. He’s not ill, is he?’

Cass shook her head then looked away.

‘It’s purely a social call. Hey, tiger,’ said Mr Remick. Cass felt Ben at her side. His face brightened as he grinned up at his teacher.

‘I didn’t go to school.’

‘No, you didn’t. Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.’ Mr Remick
winked at Cass. He had a way of making everything less grim, of clearing the air.

‘I’m playing the game.’

Not
a
game.
The
game.

‘Great, Ben. Why don’t you show me? If it’s okay with your mum, naturally.’

Cass nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll get us a drink.’

She could hear them from the kitchen: Ben prattling away about how many soldiers he’d shot, and how he’d been for a walk, only he didn’t want to go. His words spilled over themselves as though he couldn’t get them out quickly enough. Not like before, when he was with her. How could he have so much to say now? He sounded fine, a normal child.

It was her fault he’d been the way he had, trying to make him leave just when he’d started to feel at home. She’d dragged him out into the cold, made him walk all that way – and for what? Cass closed her eyes. The kettle started to boil, the hiss drowning out everything else.

‘Are you all right?’

The voice was at her ear and Cass jumped.

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’ Mr Remick gestured towards the lounge. ‘He’s engrossed in there.’

‘I … ’
I’m fine
, Cass was going to say.

Mr Remick put a hand on her arm. ‘I had a feeling something was wrong.’

Cass shook her head, found she couldn’t speak.

‘You’re not alone, you know. You don’t have to be, anyway. You don’t have to do everything yourself.’

Cass drew back, wiping her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ God, she
was always apologising to him. ‘I didn’t mean to—Of course I’m fine. I only just met you. You must think I’m—’

‘I don’t think anything. I like you, Cass. That’s all right, isn’t it? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.’

Cass shook her head. He didn’t make her uncomfortable. His presence was like being with an old friend in a familiar place.

‘You’re welcome here. I mean it.’

She raised her eyebrows.

‘Oh, I know I can’t speak for everybody. But Sally really likes you. She was just saying so today.’ He paused. ‘Of course, having Sally on your side is a bit like being stuck in the china shop with the bull.’

She smiled.

‘But I’m glad you came. I haven’t been back for long, but Darnshaw can be a little insular, especially when it’s so cut off. It’s nice to have someone I can talk to.’

Cass found her heart was beating faster, as though something was about to happen.

‘Ben told me you wanted to leave.’

She stirred. ‘I—’

‘You don’t have to explain to me.’

‘No, it’s okay. I was just feeling trapped here – with the snow and no phones and everything. I thought a few days away would do us good.’

‘It’s easier for me, I suppose. There’s no one outside I really want to call.’

Cass laughed. ‘Me neither.’ A tug at her heart.
Not any more
. ‘It was for work.’

‘Is that all? In that case you should definitely stay. There’s more to life than work, you know.’

‘Is there?’ Cass hadn’t really meant to say it, didn’t mean the question, but when she met his eye, his look was serious.

‘You know, Cass, next time Ben is out – at Sally’s or whatever – I think I should cook you dinner.’

She didn’t know what to say.

‘It’s not Cassandra, is it?’

‘What?’

‘Your name. Sally calls you Cassandra, but I don’t think that’s it.’

‘No— No, it’s not.’

‘I think— Hmm, now … ’

She pushed back her hair. ‘You won’t guess.’

‘So it isn’t Rumpelstiltskin.’ He grinned.

‘My name was Cassidy.’

‘Cassidy. Yes, it suits you.’ He paused. ‘Was?’

‘It was my maiden name. Before—’

‘Ah. Sorry. So, Cassidy, what’s your real name?’

She bit her lip.

‘Come on, it can’t be that bad.’

‘I should make those drinks.’

‘Something traditional, I think. Rebecca? No – Verity. Faith. Hope.’

She swallowed. ‘It’s Gloria.’

‘Gloria.’ He savoured the word, like a taste.

‘How did you know?’

‘What?’

‘That it would be something traditional. My father was religious.’

‘Well, it would have to be, wouldn’t it?’

‘Why?’ She still didn’t understand.

‘Darnshaw’s a pretty traditional place. And you came back. It’s in your blood.’

Cass laughed. She went to the cupboard, lifting down mugs. Still she felt exposed, like a child caught in some secret.
Gloria
. She doubted even Ben would have remembered that.