A Cold Season (11 page)

All the files were there, listed neatly in the client folder. Cass clicked it open and the page unfurled. The client’s
logo was still there at the top of the screen, and the header was the same, but the rest—

For a long moment, Cass didn’t draw breath.

The headline product had been replaced by a swastika, and underneath it said FUCK YOU in large red letters. Incongruously, some of the product images had survived, sharing space with more signs of hate. The product copy had been replaced everywhere: ‘He lives’, it said, and ‘He rules. He will triumph. He is coming’. At the bottom was a cross turned on its side and ending in a curve. It looked a little like a sickle, a little like a rotated question mark. Below that: ‘He is your father’.

Cass stared at it: a cross of confusion, just as Lucy had described.

She turned to check on Ben. He was staring at the television screen, light playing across his face. There was cold water in the pit of her stomach. She turned back, opened some other files. Some had been changed, some had not. She took the note from her pocket. ‘What the hell? I’ve overwritten the files as instructed. Is this some sort of joke? Whole site now pulled. Need a fix ASAP.’

‘Christ,’ Cass said, and covered her eyes with her hands.

‘No,’ said a voice at her shoulder. ‘No, not him. I don’t think so. He’s coming, Mummy.’

Cass turned to see Ben was staring straight up at the ceiling, his eyes rolled back in his head. They gleamed in the light from the computer screen.

Cass opened her mouth; nothing came out but a gagging sound. She grabbed her son’s arm, pulling him towards her, and found her voice. ‘Ben?’ She shook him,
put one hand on the side of his face and turned him towards her.

His eyes spun back, meeting hers. ‘I want my tea,’ he said.

Cass watched her son eat, never moving her gaze from him. She didn’t want to look away in case his eyes did that trick again. The thought of those gleaming orbs made her shudder.
It wasn’t him
, she thought. He stuffed huge forkfuls of beans into his mouth, chewing mechanically, staring into the distance. When he had finished he pushed away his plate and started to get down from his chair.

‘Ben?’

He froze, one hand on the table.

‘Are you all right?’

He shrugged.

‘Something happened to my work on the computer – some really important files got corrupted. Have you touched it? Were you playing with it?’

A single emphatic shake of his head.

‘Do you know what might have happened to it?’

Ben turned to her at last, his eyes shining. He opened his mouth, but not in a smile; he just opened it wider and wider, so that she could see his teeth, his pink tongue, pooling saliva. He made a sound that was almost like laughter.

‘Ben?’

‘
Agh – agh – agh—
’ He closed his mouth with a gulp and pulled his lips back over his teeth in a snarl.

Cass roused herself and went over to him, but as she
reached out, Ben knocked her hand away and hissed. His saliva flecked her face.

‘What are—?’

‘That tea was
shit
,’ Ben said. ‘I’d rather be at Sally’s.’

Cass’ eyes widened and she drew back as though he’d slapped her. She was dismayed to find tears welling at her eyes. She blinked furiously, and Ben saw.

He smiled.

‘Go to your room, Ben,’ she said, trying not to choke. ‘
Now
.’

Her son pushed the chair away and walked from the room. He didn’t hurry and he didn’t slam the door, just did as he had been told and went into his bedroom. He closed the door carefully behind him.

Then Cass heard something bang against it.

She padded into the hall and listened, thought she heard the rustling of sheets. She tried the handle and the door jammed against something on the other side.

‘Ben, open this door.’

Silence. She took a deep breath. ‘Ben, I am telling you to open this door, right now.’ Her hands shook. If Pete had been here he’d have known what to do. If Pete had been here, this would never have happened.

The next instant she heard something being moved away from the door and when she tried it again the handle turned easily and the door swung open. Ben was climbing into bed, pulling the covers over himself, turning to face the wall.

‘What’s got into you, sweetheart?’

He did not reply.

Cass went to his side and touched her fingertips to the heap of duvet. ‘What’s wrong, Ben? Do you want to talk about it?’

No response.

‘If something’s upsetting you, I can help.’ Cass waited. She reached out and stroked his hair. It felt damp under her fingers. She sighed, straightened up. Perhaps it was best to leave him alone for a while, let him calm down. She bent and switched on the nightlight. It cast a pallid glow over the room.

Ben shuffled around. His hand snaked from under the covers and snapped off the light. ‘I don’t need it any more,’ he said, snuggling back under the duvet.

Cass drew a deep breath, then turned and closed the door behind her, leaving her son in darkness.

THIRTEEN

Ben was up first the next morning, grabbing his rucksack and throwing it against the front door. Cass heard him in the shower. When she emerged from her room, bleary-eyed, her skin taut and dry, he was already dressed for school: grey trousers, white polo shirt.

‘I’m ready,’ Ben almost shouted, but Cass shook her head. He scowled.

‘Ben, I’ve been thinking. I’m sorry you’re all ready, but you won’t be going to school today.’

‘I
will
. I have drawing with Mrs Spencer. She says I’m really good.’

‘Well, that’s nice, but I think we need to get away from here for a little while. We’re going to have a nice walk over the moors – it’ll do us both good. Do you remember them? They’re so pretty.’ She thought back; were they pretty? All she remembered was a stretch of road walled in by fog.

‘You’re a liar.’

Probably
, Cass thought. She took a deep breath. ‘You’ve
been very naughty lately, Ben. We need to spend some time together. We’ll walk over to Moorfoot and stay in a hotel there for a few days. We can see the sights, eat in cafés – won’t that be nice?’

He didn’t exactly frown, but he didn’t look pleased either.

‘It’s an adventure,’ Cass said. And of course it would give her the chance to try and keep the one client she had. She’d spent half the night redoing her work, checking every bit of copy on the website and amending the master files offline. But she still couldn’t upload them. She could at least call her client from town, find a computer that worked and email the files. Failing that she could post them.

She rubbed at her eyes. She should have slept well, she’d been so tired after the work, and yet she didn’t feel refreshed at all.

Ben was still standing there. ‘You’d better put some clothes and things in a bag. Come on, hurry. And put some warm clothes on. It’ll be cold up there, colder than down here in the valley.’

She had packed some things late last night but hadn’t wanted to disturb Ben; not after the way he’d been, turning that face to her, his eyes nothing but a blank.

It would be a relief to be away from this place. She might even take Ben to see a doctor.

‘It’s the
law
,’ he said at last. ‘I
have
to go to school.’

Cass tossed her head. ‘Half the children in Saddleworth aren’t in school right now – what are they going to do? Hurry up, please.’

He scowled again and sulked off into his bedroom. This time he did slam the door behind him.

The sun was already high as they walked up the mill lane. Cass glanced back to see the sand-coloured stone warm and mellow behind her. Then her eyes went to Ben. He normally ran ahead when they walked, tramping down the snow, but today he was lagging behind, his mouth turned down, head drooping. His rucksack was slung over his back, his thumbs hitched in the straps. Cass bit her lip. She wanted to tell him to hurry up, but after last night she thought it might even have the opposite effect. Instead she walked more quickly, swinging her arms, hoping he would follow suit, but when she reached the top of the lane Ben was still halfway down, dragging his feet.

‘’appen he’s going to be late,’ a gruff voice called, and Cass turned to see Bert walking down the road.

She cursed under her breath. Was the old man
everywhere?

Ben was still shuffling through the snow, creating a new trail. There was no question that Bert would reach them before they escaped. She felt a prickle of alarm. How would the dog behave? Ben might be scared after last time and she didn’t want that, didn’t want him to be afraid of animals for the rest of his life. She looked at Captain. The grizzled dog was following close at Bert’s heels, and now she could see he was on a lead. It hung loosely from Bert’s hand, tucked into his pocket to keep warm.

Cass swallowed her anxiety, reminding herself that children could learn fear from their parents. ‘We’re not going to school today.’ She moved aside so that Ben could see her as she stroked Captain’s head. The fur was oily, and gave off a warm animal smell.

Ben continued to shuffle up the lane; he hadn’t even looked at her. Cass resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her coat.

‘You’re not?’ Bert’s eyes flicked to Ben. ‘Nowt wrong, I hope.’

‘Not at all. We felt the need for a break, that’s all. There’s been a lot going on, with the move and everything, and I want to spend some time with Ben. We’re going to stay in Moorfoot for a few days, see the area a bit.’

‘Aye.’ Bert nodded as though he had expected this all along, as though that was what the locals did. His head swivelled towards the road. ‘It’s a fair old walk.’

‘I know – but we’re well prepared. I’ve got a flask of soup and some food, and we’re not carrying much. We’ll be fine.’

‘’appen the moor path’d be quicker.’

‘A path?’

He pointed up the road. ‘Watch for the stile into Farmer Broath’s field. There’s a path goes through their yard, up across t’ next field, then t’ moor. You’ll see yon standing stones from there. Keep to the right-hand side of ’em, if you can’t see the path for snow. Then head straight up onto t’ road. It’ll save a mile at least, winding round the bends.’

‘Thanks, Bert, that’s a big help.’ As Cass spoke, Ben drew level. He kept his distance, though, looking over at Bert without speaking. He didn’t show any fear; he didn’t look at the dog at all. Captain raised his head and sniffed, and his sides heaved in a deep sigh.

Cass looked at Ben with surprise; reminded herself that she shouldn’t make him feel afraid.

‘Well, nice to see you, Bert.’ Cass nodded at him and he nodded back.
I’m getting the hang of this
, she thought. The local lingo: a nod of the head for everything.

‘Hang on,’ said Bert, and Cass turned as she felt his hand snag her sleeve. ‘Just a thought, but watch out fer t’ lake. It’ll be iced ower. Up by the stones. You might not see it.’

‘Sure. Thanks.’ How could she not see a lake? Still, she smiled, giving him a wave as they walked off.

‘Bye, young man,’ Bert called after them. ‘You watch out for your mum, like.’

Despite the sun the air was biting cold. Cass kept up a strong pace, stomping her feet to drive warmth into them. She hadn’t yet passed the stone terraces at the edge of Darnshaw and Ben was lagging further and further behind. ‘Hurry up, Ben,’ she called, ‘we need to keep moving so that we stay warm.’

He looked up and his face twisted. ‘The school won’t know,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘How will they know? You haven’t told them I’m not coming.’

‘Ben, the phones aren’t working, and I’m not walking
all the way to the school just to tell them I’m taking you away for a while. There’s no way to let them know, but they’ll understand. They’ll have to.’

Cass went on, walking more slowly. She drew level with the last row of houses. Ahead the road twisted around them and rose towards the moor. ‘Ben, do I have to hold your hand?’

He gave her a dirty look and thrust his hands into his pockets.

‘Well hurry up, then.’

He put his head down and stamped on the snow in a semblance of effort, but he didn’t walk any faster. Cass turned and went on ahead. The road wound upwards, edged by a dark stone wall. On the other side was a pristine expanse broken only by a stand of trees. It was beautiful. It struck Cass she could turn this into an adventure: they could picnic high on the moors, away from anyone, alone with the spread of the land and the view. By Bert’s standing stones, maybe.

Her gaze followed the line of the valley and it occurred to Cass she could have gone that way, following the river along its course. It would have been an easier walk, but then what? She’d get to another village like Darnshaw. No, she felt the need to get away, right away. The moors felt like a border, civilisation on one side, Darnshaw and all its strangeness on the other.

Mr Remick’s smiling face rose before her, his clear honest eyes. She swallowed and blinked it away.

Ben reached her side. She tousled his hair. ‘This is great, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘It’s a long time since we had a day out.’

Ben screwed up his nose and looked around. He didn’t comment, but the look said everything.

‘You’ll see. And I’ll buy you chips later.’

‘I want to go on my game.’

‘You can do that another time.’

Cass gestured him onwards and led the way up the hill. Soon she could see the stile set into the wall ahead of them. ‘Come on, Ben. There’s the farm.’ They would be able to cut across the countryside, leaving the road behind. Beyond the stile a rough track led away towards a low house built from the now-familiar blackened stone.

When Cass reached the stile she pulled herself up, then stopped and looked out over Darnshaw. She saw snow-covered rooftops and the tall black tower of the church, and no other colour anywhere at all except the long blue arch of sky.

She fumbled in her bag for her mobile. There was still no signal.

Cass helped Ben over the stile and led the way, her feet slipping into unseen ruts beneath the snow. Her bag was starting to hang heavily on her back. She was carrying her own spare clothes and half of Ben’s, plus the flask, some sandwiches and a disk with the client files.