Season of Secrets (12 page)

 

 

 

 

But when we get home, I remember the man in the
barn, and once I've remembered, I can't get him out of
my head. I look out of the window at the snow falling
and I think about how half of his roof has fallen in –
the snow must be blowing through and right on to
where he's lying.

You could freeze to death on a night like this. Even
a god could.

Dad's downstairs in the kitchen with Grandma,
drinking tea. I go up to the door and almost inside,
but then I stop. I don't think they'll go out for a man
they don't believe in on a night like this.

I go back up to the living room. Hannah's watching
Neighbours
with her hand in a Christmas tin of Roses.

“Hannah.”

“What?” And when I don't say anything, “
What?
”

“My man. In the barn.”

“Oh, gawd.” Hannah flings herself back on to the
sofa and closes her eyes. “What about him?” she says,
dramatically, head tossed back.

“It's snowing.”

“Maybe the fairies can knit him a blanket.”

I twist the hem of my jumper round and round.

“Please, Hannah.”

“Please
what
?”

“Come with me. Make sure he's all right.”

“Molly.” Hannah puts on her grown-up voice.
“Imaginary people don't get cold, you know.”

She turns back to the television.

“He's not imaginary!” She doesn't move. “He could
die
.”

She turns up the volume. I grab the remote control.
She squeals.

“
Molly!
Pack it in!”

“You're just scared,” I say. “You're scared, because if
you come you'll see he's real and then you'll be wrong,
and you don't want to go out in the dark on your
own, and you're scared of seeing a dead body, which is
what he
will
be, and—”

“You are seriously weird,” says Hannah. “I think
you should know this.” She gives this big theatrical
sigh and gets up. “If he's not in his house, we're not
going looking for him, OK?”

“OK.”

I follow her downstairs. She barges through the
kitchen door.

“Me and Moll are playing in the snow,” she says.
“Where's the torch?”

“Oh—” says Dad. “Well—” You can see him not
wanting us to go out in the dark and not wanting to
stop us playing together. “It's—” He stops. “Don't go
far, will you?”

“Course not,” says Hannah. She gives him her best
look of withering scorn.

 

It's very cold. I stick my hands in my pockets and
edge closer to Hannah.

“This way?” she says. She switches on the torch
and it sends a fuzzy beam of light about a metre
forward.

“This way.”

“Come on, then.”

The snow is still falling. Now it's started to settle
on the ground. I imagine it settling over my man and
I shiver.

The night feels strange. The trees are rustling,
making noises. Like voices, whispering. I move closer
to Hannah and bump into her.

“Ow!”

“Sorry.”

“Where are we supposed to turn?”

“There's a gate in the hedge.”

“Where?”

“It's here somewhere – there!”

I grab Hannah's hand and swing the torch round.
Hannah makes this little exasperated noise and stamps
off towards it. I run after her.

“How do you get it open?”

“You climb over. Hannah – the trees—”

“Ow! It's got snow on it. I can't
see
anything.”

Behind me, I hear something that sounds like
laughing.

“Hannah—”

“Come
on
.”

The gate is already covered in snow and it's icy. I slip
coming down and land in the frozen mud. It hurts.

Hannah's already ahead of me, a dark shape behind
the light of the torch.

“What's that?” She sounds frightened. Hannah
never gets frightened.

“What?”

“There – there's something there.”

“It's his house. Remember?”

It's very dark in the barn. Snow has settled on the
ground and on the black shape of the tree and on the
sacks in the corner.

There's no one there.

“Happy?” says Hannah. “Can we go now?”

Snow is spattering on the roof. It blows against my
back.

“Hello,” I whisper.

Nobody answers.

“He's probably at a party with the fairies,” says
Hannah. “Come
on
.”

I go to his end of the barn. It's pitchy-black. I
bump against something lying on the ground.

“Moll?”

I kneel down. He's lying on his back. There's snow
all over his legs and his stomach. His eyes are closed.
He's shivering so hard that I can actually hear his teeth
chattering.

I touch his arm. It's as cold as ice.

“Hannah,” I say quietly.

And then she sees him.

For a long, long moment she doesn't say anything.
Then she goes mad.

“You stupid,
stupid
little girl.”

I stare.

“Why didn't you
tell
anyone he was here? He could
have
died
! Why didn't you call an
ambulance
or
something?”

“I did! I told you! I told Dad and Grandpa—”

“You didn't tell us he was
real
.”

She runs out of the barn. I run after her.

“Where are you going?”

“Where do you think I'm going?”

“Don't leave me here!”

“Do you think,” says Hannah, “I care about
you?”

She runs forward through the snow and frozen
grass. I follow after, as best as I can.

 

Everyone's in the kitchen when we burst through the
door.

“There's a man in the snow,” says Hannah.

Grandpa half-stands up. “In the snow? Is he hurt?”

“I don't know,” says Hannah. Now we're inside she
isn't angry any more. She starts to shake.

“He's alive,” I say. I run over to Dad and tug on his
hand. “We need to go and rescue him.”

“Where is he?” says Grandma. “Slow down and
tell us properly, Moll.”

“Should we call an ambulance?” says Dad.

“Have you girls still got the torch?” says Grandpa.

“It's Molly's man,” says Hannah.

Everyone stops talking.

“Molly's man?” says Grandma.

“He was there all along,” says Hannah.

“Molly? You were talking to a real person?”

“Of course I was,” I say. “I
told
you.”

“Hang on,” says Dad. “What – who are you
talking about? The invisible man who makes flowers
grow? He's
real
? You've been visiting a real man in the
woods?” He looks at Grandma. “And you've been
letting
her?”

I pull on his hand. Clearly we're suddenly Dad's
responsibility again, but I haven't got time to work out
what that means. Something's changed, I know it has.
Nobody could see him before. So how come they can
now?

“Hurry
up
,” I say. “Come and see.”

 

 

 

 

We all go. Grandpa and Dad and Hannah and me.

The night's darker now. The snow's falling thicker
and the wind's begun to blow.

Dad and Grandpa didn't want me to come, but I
wouldn't stay behind. Something's shaken Dad out of
his don't-fight, don't-talk mode. He was angrier than
I've ever seen him.

“You
don't
talk to strangers,” he said. “
Never
. What
part of never don't you understand?”

“He's not a stranger!” I said. “We're friends.”

“
No
,” said Dad. He slammed his hand down on
the table. “Christ, Molly! Don't you know how
important that is?”

I started to cry.

“Hey,” said Grandpa. “Hey, Toby.” He put his hand
on Dad's arm. “Let's wait and see, eh? See what's
there.”

But Dad pulled his arm away.

“You have no right to say anything in this
conversation,” he said to Grandpa. “Nothing! I haven't
even
begun
on what I think of you.”

Once I'd started to cry, I couldn't stop.

“He's sick,” I said. I wouldn't look at Dad. “He's
sick and he could be dying and all you're doing is
fighting.”

 

So now here are, walking through the snow.

The trees are making noises, like voices.

Hurry
.
Hurry, or it'll be too late
.

I'm so frightened I can hardly breathe.

Hurry
, say the trees.
Hurry
.

I have this huge, wrong feeling. There's something
strange about tonight. The world doesn't quite fit on
top of itself. The edges are shifting. If we don't get
there soon, something terrible will happen.

Hurry,
say the trees.

Dad and Grandpa are fussing with the gate.
Grandpa's opening it. How odd that all that time I've
been climbing over it, it was openable after all.

I run through into the field.

“Hey, Moll—” calls Grandpa, but I can't stop. I
stumble through the snow to the barn.

Now.

There's a crack. Thunder. Lightning tears the sky in
two. We're the centre of the storm again.

I fall through the door, into the barn. Lightning
flares and for a moment it shows a picture – two men,
one tall and horned, standing, the other lying face
down on the ground. The standing man has his fist
raised in the air. There's something unnatural about
his stillness, and the way the other lies. And then the
lightning's gone and the barn is empty, save for the
boom of thunder around us.

I know, without the tiniest piece of doubt, that my
man isn't here any more.

I am filled with terror.

And then the storm comes.

 

 

 

 

I'm surrounded by whirling snow. Snow is above and
below and around me, like fog.

Too high, you can't get over it.

“Man!” I shout. “Man! It's me! It's Molly!”

There are voices on the wind, and shapes. Black
figures towering over me, then blowing away into
nothing. Things with wings and eyes.

Too low, you can't get under it.

“Man!”

Too wide, you can't get round it.

“Come back!”

I know where he is.

“Please!”

I was too late.

He's dead.

It's my fault.

I'm crying now and shaking. There are dark shapes
all around me, laughing in the wind. It's the horned
god, the Holly King, or something worse. The things
that Miss Shelley said came through when the barriers
between worlds are weakened. Ghosties and ghoulies
and long-leggety beasties and things that go bump in
the night.

Other voices are calling.

“Molly! Molly!”

There's ice in my lungs. I can't breathe.

“Molly! Where are you?”

There's torchlight, and shapes in the darkness.

I stumble forward, blind in the night. Things are
laughing on the wind, catching at my coat and scratching
my hands with grabbing fingers. The air is thin tonight.

Things are coming through.

“Molly!”

I pull away from the grabbing things and they tear
at my hair. I stumble forward, but now something else
is twining through my fingers. It's twigs. Tree-hands,
their branches reaching down and holding me.

“Moll! Where are you?”

I am held and rocked in the arms of the trees. Dark
hands reach down and touch my face. I don't move. I
hardly breathe. The snow and the cold are gone. Here
and now, I am safe and untouchable.

“There you are!”

The tree-arms are gone. I fall and land face forward
in the snow. I'm crying and crying.

“Molly, my love, what's the matter?”

It's Dad. Big and dark and anxious.

I'm crying so much I can hardly see him.

“Mum!” I cry. “I want Mummy!”

“Moll, Molly, my love—”

His arms go around me. I twist out of them.

“I want Mum!”

“Molly-mop—”

I lean back as far as I can. I scream and kick.

“No! I want Mummy! I want Mummy!”

He lifts me up and carries me away through the
night.