A Cold Season (17 page)

No
.

Cass jumped down the last few steps and her ankle gave, but she recovered and kept going. She went to the entrance and pressed up against the glass. Light spilled onto the snow outside, turning footprints into deep black arcs. Cass grabbed the handle and had started to turn it when the light behind her went out.

She stopped.
Think
.

She waved a hand, triggering the lights. The footprints reappeared. She recognised Ben’s, but her own prints were there too, facing in both directions, criss-crossing. Ben’s could have been from this morning, earlier today, even yesterday. But the lights – the lights at her back had already been on when she came down the stairs.

The lights went out again. She turned. The ground-floor hall was dark now, but it felt
present
somehow. Had the lights really been on when she came down? She wasn’t sure, but she thought they probably had been. It
felt
as though they had.

She mouthed his name as she headed away from the front door. The hall lights came on with a low buzz, but just before they did, she saw a pale moonlit glow coming through one of the doorways: the empty apartment. Apartment 6. That must be where Ben had gone.

Cass took a deep breath and padded softly along the hall to the apartment that lay beneath her own. The door was open, and when she looked in she saw Ben at once. He was sitting motionless on the floor, muttering something over and over. It made her think of an elderly person trying to remember something long forgotten.

Ben didn’t turn round as she stepped towards him. The
light was dim, the air granular, and Cass’ ears rang. She couldn’t make out what he was saying.

‘Ben,’ she said, but her voice cracked. She cleared her throat, took a step closer. And then she froze.

The floor around her son was moving: shadows flowed around his legs and across the floor, always moving, darker grey against the grey boards.

Cass took another step forward and everything clicked into focus. A boiling mass of rats covered the floor around her son. They flowed into and out of the window frames, down the walls and across the space between, throwing up clouds of dust. She heard them now too, the faint scratching of their claws.

Cass’ voice dried in her throat.

They crawled into her son’s lap, piling up, fighting to get close. Ben sat with his eyes closed, hands in his lap curled like dead things. Rats pushed their heads between his fingers, lapped at his palms.

‘Suffer the—’ he said, his voice distant, like a child speaking in his sleep. ‘Suffer the little—’

‘Ben!’

His shoulders jumped.

‘Suffer them to come.’

The rats ate out of his hands, lapped at his fingers. His palms shone with their saliva. They thrust forward and stole the crumbs he held. Around him the rats crawled over empty packets and boxes, their contents carried away like trophies, and streamed away out of the empty windows. The pale night shone down on their slick, smooth fur.

One rat turned to stare at Cass, its eyes a sudden white glow, like the boys in the hall, the ones she hadn’t seen until they turned to glare at her. Like Ben’s eyes earlier, when he turned on her.

Cass made a choking sound. Then she was moving, grabbing her son by an arm and pulling him clear, rats falling from his lap.

Ben cried out at last, a sound without words, but he didn’t fight her as she dragged him along at her side, his feet streaking the dust.

Cass pulled him into the hall and tears came as she bent over him, crying into his hair, feeling it against her skin. She knelt and pulled him against her. ‘What were you doing, Ben?’ she asked. ‘What are you doing down here?’

His eyes were glazed, looking blankly over her shoulder. She squeezed his arm. ‘Ben, look at me.’

And he did: he turned his eyes on her so that the empty white of them took her in.

Cass wanted to scream – and then his head moved, just a little, and the reflected light passed on, restoring his eyes to their own soft grey.

‘Ben, do you hear me?’

He looked at her and blinked, like a child waking from a dream.

‘What were you doing?’

‘I heard them,’ he said in a small voice. ‘They were hungry, Mummy. Very hungry.’

‘Oh Ben.’ Her head sank onto his shoulder.

‘I thought I heard them talking.’

‘I heard them too, Ben. They’ve been getting into the walls somehow. But you mustn’t go off like that. Never, ever do that again, do you understand?’

His eyes clouded. ‘I’m tired, Mummy.’

‘I know. So am I. Come on, let’s go back.’ But first Cass took his hands in hers and turned them, wiping the sticky dampness on her clothes, checking for marks or bites. She found they were whole, not a scratch to be seen.

He pulled away; she was gripping too tight.

‘Time for bed.’

She led her son back down the hall, pulling the door to Apartment 6 firmly closed behind them. His hand was clammy, and she imagined long yellow teeth nestled into his palm, whiskers snuffling against the skin, and shuddered. She half-carried him up the stairs, glancing back and half-expecting to see a trail of rats following them like the Pied Piper. Then they were inside their own apartment. Cass leaned on the door with relief.

‘They were hungry,’ Ben said again. ‘They only wanted a daddy to look after them.’

‘Oh sweetheart.’ Cass picked him up and carried him into the bathroom. She rinsed a flannel and then soaped him with it. Halfway through cleaning his hands, she paused. Apartment 6. Her own, the one above it, was Apartment 12. Two sixes. She shook her head.

‘Mummy?’

Cass looked down at her son. She ran her hands through his hair, pulling bits of plaster and dirt from it, letting them patter onto the linoleum. She wanted to shower him, but Ben’s eyes were closing. Better that he should sleep.

As she put him to bed and tucked him in she could already hear sounds in the wall. She pulled a face.

‘Suffer them to come,’ Ben murmured, his eyes closed, already half-asleep.

‘What did you say?’

He turned, burying himself in the covers.

Cass watched him a while longer, then went to the front door and double-locked it, pushing the bolt home with a snap. At least she would hear something if Ben chose to go wandering in the night again.

She sat on her bed for a long time, watching her hands shake.

‘Suffer them to come,’ she said at last. ‘Suffer the little children.’

She slipped her legs under the covers, laid down her head and tried, pointlessly, to sleep.

SIXTEEN

Loud banging roused Cass from sleep. The quality of the light told her it was late morning, much later than she usually stayed in bed. She rushed into the hall in time to see Ben, fully dressed, pulling back the bolt and opening the door.

Mr Remick stood there, waving bread and the carton of eggs from the night before. ‘I’m too early. Sorry.’

Cass ran a hand through her hair, fingers catching in the tangle. ‘No, it’s me. I’m so late.’ She was still wearing her nightdress. ‘Ben, take Mr Remick through to the kitchen. I’ll be with you in a second.’

She backed into her room, threw on jeans and a jumper, tried to pat her hair down in the mirror. As she went back out she heard the kettle boiling.

Mr Remick and Ben were sitting at the kitchen table, chatting companionably. Mr Remick looked up and smiled. ‘Here’s your mum,’ he said.

Ben looked up without speaking. His mouth twitched; he still looked pale.

‘We slept in,’ said Cass. ‘Well, I did.’

‘And why not? I shouldn’t have disturbed you on a Saturday. It’s just I forgot to give you these.’

Cass looked at the bread and eggs. ‘Why don’t I make us something?’ She looked around and saw the tins and empty food packets laid out on the worktop. ‘We’ve been having a sort-out.’

‘Looks like a good job I brought the eggs.’

Cass ran her eye over their remaining food. ‘Actually, it is. It really is. Thank you, Theo. I appreciate it.’

She went to the counter, touched a hand to the mugs that he must have set out himself, opened a cupboard and realised it was the wrong one.

‘Here, let me.’ Theo stood between her and Ben, put a hand on her arm. ‘I’d like to. Why don’t you sit down for a bit? I’ll bring you a coffee.’ As he spoke, the kettle clicked off.

Cass nodded and slipped into the chair next to Ben. She leaned over and kissed his hair. She could smell the dust on it, feel the grease under her lips. What must Theo think?

‘We could eat, then go for a walk maybe,’ he said.

Ben wriggled, already wearing a broad grin.

They went out into the clean cold air and turned towards the river. Across the field she could see Bert, ambling his way along the path towards them, the low black shape of Captain waddling at his side. He looked like part of the landscape. Cass smiled, raised a hand and waved.

The distant figure paused. The dog came to a stop too, waiting.

It looked as if the old man had seen her, was staring directly at her. Then he tugged on Captain’s lead and headed back the way he’d come.

Cass exclaimed.

‘He’s a funny sort,’ said Mr Remick, ‘one of the more local locals, if you know what I mean. You shouldn’t let it bother you.’

He took her arm and they headed around the mill instead, towards the pond.

Ben slipped his hand into Mr Remick’s, laughed and swung on his arm. ‘Will you play soldiers later?’

‘Of course,’ he said, and Cass found she didn’t mind the idea. Ordinarily she liked her own company, hers and Ben’s, but the teacher’s company was comfortable. He fitted.

Ben whooped and ran ahead, kicking chunks of ice into the air. The previous snowfall was frozen solid, as deep as ever.

‘He’s been so odd lately,’ said Cass. ‘Last night … ’ But she found she didn’t want to tell him about last night. The thought of those grey bodies crawling over her son, lapping at his fingers, their feet on his body, made her feel sick. She stopped.

‘Is everything all right? I know he had that thing with Jessica. He seems fine now though.’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘A great kid.’

‘Mm.’

‘You know, we always show our worst side to those we love the most.’ Remick turned to her and smiled. ‘It’s the
perfect strangers we perform for best. If he’s playing up it’s because he knows you’ll still be there to love him when it’s over.’

‘You think so?’ She paused. ‘Do you think he’s testing me?’

He sighed. ‘We’re all being tested, Cass, all of the time. Kids, they push the boundaries, you know?’

‘You have rather more of them to deal with than I do.’

‘Ah, but it’s not the same. They show me their good side – most of the time, anyway.’

‘Do you think he’ll calm down?’

‘He’s settling in, making friends. I think so. You, on the other hand … ’ He brushed the hair back from her face. ‘You need a little looking after, I think. Why don’t I get Sally to babysit? I’ll cook for you again.’

‘You might have to. We might be on a starvation diet soon.’

‘I wouldn’t let that happen.’

‘Seriously, though, when will the roads be clear? The snowplough hasn’t been once. And the phone lines are still down.’

‘I suspect it may be some time yet – but you don’t have to feel alone, Cass. You have friends here. Really good friends.’ He leaned forward and kissed her lightly.

‘I’m glad you came today.’

‘Good. So am I. Of course I have an ulterior motive.’

‘Oh?’

He tilted his head. ‘Ben, of course. I want him on the team.’

‘Team?’

‘He’s a great snowman builder. Of course, he may be good at other things too – football, rugby. We haven’t had much chance to find out, have we?’

‘I think you’ll find he prefers video games.’

‘Ah – then perhaps we need a video game team. Hey, Ben, time to play!’

Ben spun round. His cheeks were pink, his eyes bright. Cass thought of what he might have been like had Mr Remick not come round, the way he was last night – sullen, pale. Why could she not work this transformation alone? She should just let him go, let him enjoy things – let him be a kid. She watched as the teacher ruffled Ben’s hair, raced him back down the lane, sliding and shouting. She remembered the touch of his lips on hers, so light it might barely have happened at all.

SEVENTEEN

On Sunday Ben was up before Cass, filling the apartment with the sound of gunfire. He didn’t jump when Cass bent to kiss his head, he didn’t even turn, and she could see that his face was pale once more.

She made toast from the last of the bread and watched Ben play while she ate. The plate at his side remained untouched. ‘Come on,’ she said at last, ‘eat up. We’re going out.’

They saw Bert as soon as they opened the front door. He stood by the lamp post at the bottom of the lane, Captain motionless at his side. Snow fell all around him, settling on his shoulders, the hood of his coat, the dog’s rough black fur. Captain shook himself, sending it flying.

Cass hesitated, then said, ‘Look Ben, it’s Captain.’ He frowned. He didn’t show any sign of being afraid, or of wanting to see the dog either. It was impossible to gauge his feelings.

‘Wait here,’ said Cass. She put up the catch and went
out.
Why here, now?
Yesterday Bert had turned away rather than exchange a hello as they passed.

‘’ow do,’ said Bert, tipping a hand to his hood. He coughed, air spurting out in a cloud of spittle. ‘’scuse.’

‘Are you all right, Bert?’ His face, now that Cass was up close, had a faint yellowish tinge.

Captain’s sides jerked and he coughed in a rough bark.

Cass and Bert exchanged startled looks.

‘Saw you walkin’ with that teacher yesterday.’ Teacher with a short vowel:
ticher
.

‘Yes, that’s right. Do you know Theo?’

‘Theo. Tha’s his name now, is it?’

‘Well, of course it’s Mr Remick to everyone at school, but—’

Bert turned and spat into the snow. ‘An’ you’re not everyone, I tek it.’

‘Bert, I don’t think—’

‘No bother, I can see I’m poking me nose in. Just wanted to say watch out for the bairn, like. An’ yourself.’