A Cold Season (12 page)

Maybe they would have been better sticking to the road. It would have been smooth underfoot, not like this. But if she said they had to turn back now … Cass sighed at the thought of Ben’s reaction. He was already lagging behind again, shuffling his feet. Better to go on and see what it was like past the farm.

‘Ben, walk properly,’ Cass said as they turned into the
farmyard. There was a faint rank odour, and somewhere a dog barked. The yard was enclosed by low wooden sheds, their doors all closed.

Ben stopped and pulled a face. ‘It stinks.’

‘It does not. Come on, Ben, I can see the path. Race you.’

Cass walked past the blank dark windows set into the back of the house. Steam rose from a vent on the side of the building, but other than that there was no sign that anyone lived there.

The path led away from the house and into a broad white field, following the line of the wall. It felt like they were really leaving the village now, escaping its pull, and Cass’ spirits rose, though she could hear Ben behind her, kicking up flurries of snow. She took long strides, feeling her calf muscles pull as the slope grew steeper. The air felt cleaner, colder, stinging her ears and nose, and her eyes began watering, the moisture causing an irritating sting. She wiped at them, sniffed and kept going.

When Cass turned round, Ben was a small figure, sunk knee-deep into the snow. He had stopped swishing.

The road would have been so much easier.

Cass waited, leaning on the wall, rummaging in her pack, and when Ben reached her she put a bar of chocolate into his hand. He stared at it. His nose and cheeks were pink. Cass pulled his hat down over his ears and he sucked in his breath when she touched them. ‘Sorry, Ben. Are you okay? This is hard going, eh?’

He ripped the chocolate wrapper open with his teeth, spitting out the fragment he’d torn off.

‘Ben, pick that up.’

He kicked out, flicking snow high into the air and it spattered against Cass’ coat, marbling the ground, covering the wrapper.

‘You know you can’t leave it like that. What about when the snow melts? It’ll look nasty.’

‘It’ll never melt. It’ll always be here, and so will you, and so will we.’

She forced a laugh. ‘Whatever do you mean? Of course it will. And we’ll go where we like, won’t we? We’re going now.’ Cass stopped short. Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears.

She must be going mad. It was the effect of the last few days, that was all; being snowed in. It had started to feel like she’d never get out of that deep bowl of a village, back over the hills to where the telephones worked and the roads were passable.

Ben took a bite and chewed, swallowed, took another.

Cass sighed and scraped in the snow, picking up the wrapper herself. ‘Come on. It won’t take long to get up to the top. Then it’ll be downhill.’

She remembered that strange experience in the car on the way here: the car heading downhill, but rolling backwards, as though something was pushing her away. It felt so long ago.

She lowered her voice. ‘Come on, love. Let’s shake a leg.’

Ben sighed. He balanced on one foot, raised the other and shook clumps of snow from it. Cass laughed, too hard. ‘That’s my boy. Now let’s see if we can find these standing stones.’

Cass needn’t have been concerned about missing their way. She saw the stones as soon as she reached the wall marking the top edge of the field. They were tall and black, jutting from their white surroundings like sentinels standing on the hillside.

‘Do you see tha—’

Cass turned but Ben wasn’t there. He was far back down the hillside, barely covering any ground at all. Cass cupped her hands around her mouth and cried, ‘Ben, come
on
.’ She leaned against the wall and waited until he caught up with her.

When he finally drew level he let out a huge sigh.

‘If you stopped messing about, it wouldn’t be so difficult.’

‘It wouldn’t be so difficult if I wasn’t here.’

‘Don’t be a smart-aleck.’ Cass put a hand on his back, steering him forwards, but he flapped his arms and shook her off. ‘Well, walk by yourself then. I’m getting tired of this. Walk in front of me.’

Ben stomped along, hands pulled into his coat sleeves, flapping them at his sides, but Cass didn’t care as long as he kept moving. The air was growing even colder, and snowflakes drifted, tiny particles like mist moving wraithlike across the hillside. Ben walked into it, towards the stones, his red coat fading from view.

Cass hurried after him.
How can he be moving so quickly now?
She caught sight of his short legs plunging into the snow up to his knees, and yet he was pulling away from her. A wind was rising, hissing across the slope and in and out of the stones. It carried the snow with it, hiding
everything from view. It felt to her like Ben was being swallowed up.

Cass started to hurry, trying to catch up, but her feet slipped. She tried to keep from falling and her outstretched hand sank deep into a snowdrift, dragging her in up to the shoulder. She spluttered, fought her way clear. Ahead the path was a smooth blanket, Ben’s footprints already covered over.

He appeared for a moment between the stones, a small figure, and was gone.

Cass shouted his name. The wind was picking up, and rough particles stung her skin. She held her scarf across her face with one hand, holding out the other for balance. ‘Ben!’

He did not come back, nor did she hear him call. She put her head down against the wind and started after her son, and when she next looked up, she found herself standing among the stones.

Now she could see them clearly, they reminded her of gravestones, flattened and broad, the surfaces pitted. Snow dusted them, picking out whorls and other half-seen patterns. Some were almost worn through, eaten by the elements, and one had thinned so much that an irregular hole had opened in its centre.

Another lay flat on the ground, one edge just visible under the snow. It reminded Cass of the church altar, dressed in its white cloth. She blinked. On top of the cloth – no, the
snow
– lay her son.

She ran to him, pulled him up and slid an arm under his shoulders. She shook him; he was dead weight. Snow
had blotted his cheeks, settled on his fine eyelashes, and she brushed it away. ‘Ben, are you all right?’

His eyes opened. Above his ruddy cheeks his eyes glowed, and she felt heat rising off him.

‘Fuck you,’ he said. ‘
Fuck
you.’

Cass started, her arm jerking under him.

Ben pursed up his lips and ejected thin, cold spittle into her face. ‘He won’t let you,’ he said, pulling back his lips so she could see his pink gums as he spoke. ‘I’m not going. I’m
not
.’

‘Ben, what is it?’ Cass’ voice broke. It was a sign of weakness, but she didn’t care, she didn’t know this fierce, angry person.
He’s only a child
, she thought. How could he say such things? And how could she recoil from him, her flesh, her blood? She remembered when he was a baby, the way she had rocked him in her arms, and she rocked him now. ‘Don’t, Ben. It’s all right. We’ll sit here a while and have our picnic, and then we’ll be gone from here and we’ll never come back. We’ll go far, far away—’

His head whipped around. What had she said? She had only intended to calm him; was only half aware of what she’d been saying.

‘No,’ he shouted, flailing and kicking. ‘
Nonononono—
’

Cass tried to hold on, but it was like gripping a storm. She gathered him in her arms, folding herself over him, their breath mingling in a single cloud. Eventually the storm subsided.

‘Shh, shh, it’s okay.’

‘It’s not – it’s not. We’re always moving. Daddy wouldn’t make me move. I hate you. I
hate
you.’

‘It’s okay. I didn’t mean it, Ben.’ But as soon as she’d said the words, Cass realised she had – she
had
meant it, she had felt herself repelled by Darnshaw and its ways and the people in it, the church and the mill, almost as soon as they’d arrived. It felt
wrong
. She couldn’t isolate it, couldn’t think of one thing that made it wrong; it just wasn’t her home. She couldn’t imagine Ben growing up here, catching a bus to the big school, going out with a local girl. She couldn’t see any of it.

Ben became still in her arms.

‘We’ll talk about it later,’ Cass said. ‘We’re not going for ever, Ben, it’s a little trip, that’s all, just for a few days.’ She leaned against the edge of the stone and slipped off her rucksack. She pulled out the flask and poured some soup, smelling the rich sweet scent of tomatoes before it was whipped away on the breeze. ‘Here. This’ll warm you up.’ She offered it to Ben.

He hit out, knocking the cup from her grip, and soup splashed bright orange across the snow.

‘What’s got into you? Ben, you need to have something. It’ll give you some energy. Stop being so naughty.’

He muttered under his breath.

‘What’s that?’

He said it again, his voice still low. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Please yourself.’ Cass had some of the soup, closed the flask, clipped the cup onto it and stowed it away. She stood, slinging the rucksack over her shoulder. ‘Come on. We’re going.’

‘I’m not.’

Cass grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to his feet. His body felt loose, like a puppet, and he slumped to his knees.

‘Stand up, Ben. We’re going on.’

‘You can.’

‘We’re both going.’ She pulled at him. ‘Ben, please.’ All the strength rushed from her legs and she sank down beside him. ‘Ben, I can’t do this on my own. Will you please help me?’ She smoothed his fringe back, feeling the heat from his forehead through her gloves. She frowned as it occurred to her that he could be ill. What if there was something really wrong with him, and here she was, dragging him over the moors without a thought for his safety.

His safety
. But wasn’t that the reason she was doing this, really? She remembered Sally’s bright, tripping words. Mr Remick’s smile, his clear eyes. They looked accusing. ‘Shit,’ she muttered under her breath. Ben didn’t move, didn’t show any sign that he’d heard.

‘It’s not far to go now. We just have to get to the top of the hill. Then we’ll be back on the road and it’ll be easier. See?’ She pointed, though she couldn’t even see past the stones now. Everything was lost in white mist.

‘Come on, sweetheart.’

Ben threw her off and curled in on himself, pressing his face down into his knees, wrapping his arms beneath his legs. ‘I want to go home.’ His voice was muffled. ‘I want to go home.
I want to go home
.’

‘Oh God, Ben, we’re only going for a few days, just till I can get things sorted out.’ Cass heard herself and
squeezed her eyes shut.
Me
, she thought.
Is this all about me? About what
I
want?

‘I want to go home.’

‘Soon,’ said Cass. ‘Soon.’ She tried to pick him up, but he was so heavy and he pulled against her. His coat was speckled in white and she realised it was snowing again; the air, the sky, everywhere was white. Ben’s trousers were already soaked where he had knelt on the ground and now snowflakes settled on his hood, melting into dark shapes. Cass’ own legs burned with cold. Her toes were numb, pain spreading through her feet, and suddenly it was too much. All of it, too much. It was true: she couldn’t do it alone.

‘All right,’ she said, leaning back against the stone. ‘All right, Ben. You win. We’ll go home.’

He didn’t speak, just unfolded from the ground as if he’d woken up, reached out his arms and stretched. A smile spread across his face but as he brushed the snow from his body, Cass saw that the cold glow never left his eyes.

FOURTEEN

She should be glad, Cass told herself as they trudged back down the hillside: glad that Ben saw Darnshaw as home, that he already liked it so much he wanted to stay. That was good, wasn’t it? It was what she’d wanted all along.

Still she found her irritation increasing. Progress was quicker now, the landmarks coming upon them in quick succession: the wall at the top of the field; the path by the wall; the scuffed area of snow where they’d argued over the wrapper; the opening into the farmyard. Even the rough bark of the dog sounded just the same, and there was the same smell of manure. But it wasn’t just that they were going downhill, that the going was easier; Ben was standing up straight now, striding out, swinging his arms, all boundless energy. His movement was almost jaunty.

It didn’t marry with that cold look in his eyes.

Cass pursed her lips. ‘Wait,’ she said, some part of her wanting to stem his enthusiasm. When he turned to her, though, the cold look had gone. His eyes were clear.

‘Well, Ben, it looks like we’re staying put for a while. We’d better try and get some more food, hmm?’

Ben shrugged.

‘Let’s see if they’ve got any eggs for sale at the farm.’

She expected him to grumble at the prospect of a delay, but his expression remained blank.

Cass walked around the farmhouse. From the front, it had a view of the whole valley. White mist curled over the village like a bird covering its brood, or its prey.

Cass peered in through the window. She could see a clutter of old wooden furniture, and an overcoat thrown over a chair. When she knocked, a machine-gun rattle of barks rang out and there was the squeal of wooden chair legs scraping a stone floor. Cass waited for what felt like an age. She couldn’t resist turning and pulling a face and when Ben returned it she grinned; her heart felt lighter.

The door screeched open and a woman’s solid body stood in the gap. She wore a flowered skirt and flesh-coloured tights and layers of faded cardigans. A sheepdog tried to push its way past her, letting out short barks. Its claws skittered at the flagstones.

‘In, Jesse,
in
.’ The woman’s face was deeply lined. She wore a scarf around her head, secured in a tight knot. She tried to block the dog with her leg, but its lithe body curled past her and it got its head out of the door. Cass felt Ben’s hands on her back.