Snow Kills (2 page)

‘She sounds like a sensible woman your mum ... Ouch!’ Mavis flinched as Kayleigh snagged a knot in her hair.

 ‘Concentrate please Kayleigh, tips to roots. How many more times do I have to tell you?’ Marlene, Kayleigh’s boss said as she walked past, her quick, small feet making a tapping noise on the floor.
Kayleigh raised her eyebrows at Mavis in the mirror and the two sniggered like children.

Ten minutes later, Mavis was settled under the dryer, her hair neatly set in curlers, with a cup of tea.

‘Look at them and you’ll see where I get my ideas from,’ Kayleigh said pointing to a page in a magazine. The headline read ‘Today’s Fashion on a Shoestring’.

Mavis smiled as she took the magazine offered. She visibly relaxed with the soothing noise of the dryer blowing the warm, dry air down on her and for a minute Kayleigh watched her client close her eyes and thought she might fall asleep, as she often did. But within seconds Mavis’s eyes flew open and she started to flip through the pages. Kayleigh could hear Mavis humming to herself and couldn’t help but smile as she tidied her work station. Gathering an armful of wet towels from the bin, Kayleigh headed for the utility room.

‘Kayleigh,’ Mavis’s shrill voice shouted. She stopped abruptly and pivoted on one foot to face the dryer bank.

‘Shh ...You don’t have to shout, I can hear you,’ she said, a mischievous smile on her lips as she brought her finger to her mouth.

‘What did you say love?’ Mavis shouted even louder, with her hand cupped to her netted, sponge ear muffs. ’I don’t appear to have a biscuit dear,’ she said, looking down despairingly at the empty saucer on the wooden arm of her seat. ‘Tea without a biscuit is like salt without vinegar on me fish n’ chips,’ she said. ‘Pass us one of them from that box on the counter.’

‘You don’t miss a trick, Mavis Beanland, do you?’ Kayleigh laughed. Picking a Bronte Cafe ginger snap, she passed it to her client.

‘Splendid! These look like good dunkers,’ Mavis said, nodding to the lady sat next to her, who nodded back in agreement. ‘Get one love, I’ll pay you for it later.’

Kayleigh smiled fondly at Mavis. ‘Thank you, I will,’ she said, throwing one in her handbag behind the reception desk.

Thirty minutes later, Kayleigh gently combed Mavis’s warm, snuff dry hair round her fingers into little curls, just as she liked it. There was no need for Marlene’s expertise with the old lady’s coiffure. She held the hand mirror up behind her client’s head proudly so that she could also see the rear of her hair. Mavis nodded approvingly and smiled.

‘Lovely, dear,’ she said, as Kayleigh squeezed a pea sized bit of cream out of the tube of Vitapointe and gently patted it on Mavis’s hair. Mavis rose out of her chair with a groan before hobbling to the reception desk. She picked up her wet weather gear and ceremoniously wrapped her scarf around her neck twice before she shrugged into her coat.

‘Best thing I ever did was knit this scarf,’ she said. ‘Do you knit?’ she asked Kayleigh, who shook her head.

‘Once I start I can’t stop,’ Mavis said.

‘That explains the length of it,’ Kayleigh laughed.

‘I’ll be doing a lot of knitting at my sister’s, she doesn’t have a telly,’ Mavis said with a frown. ‘She likes reading. So there’s no chance of me keeping up with the soaps for a few weeks,’ she added. ‘I’ll give you a ring to book another appointment when I get back.’

Mavis paid and put a two pound tip into the palm of Kayleigh’s hand. ‘You’re a good kid,’ she said with a wink. ‘I’ll try get you a pair of them Harvest knickers while I’m at my sister’s.’

‘Thank you, that’s very kind,’ said Kayleigh, tutting softly, because she knew Mavis would not take no for an answer. ‘What would I do without you to look after me?’ Mavis squeezed Kayleigh’s hand tightly.

‘And put that money towards some wellies, never mind that there fashion.’ Mavis held Kayleigh’s hand in her weather worn arthritic grasp for a moment and, fleetingly closing her eyes, she smiled at the young girl kindly. ‘Take care love.’

 ‘You take care, I’ll see you soon,’ Kayleigh said.

 She walked in front of Mavis to the door, opened it and held her hand once again as the old lady precariously negotiated the steps. She watched her tread with trepidation out onto the icy flagstones, which looked treacherous because yet again, the powers-that-be at Harrowfield Council had failed to prepare for the weather that had been long forecast. The wind was stirring the snow into the shop doorway and it was beginning to create snowdrifts that resembled sand dunes against the walls and the door jamb in the porch. The cool air was welcome after the humidity of the salon, and for a moment Kayleigh stood, arms crossed, leaning on the salon window and watching the world go by. It started to snow heavier and she stared at snowflakes like upturned petals floating to the ground. Her eyes lingered on the vehicles at a standstill in a queue of traffic, surrounded by flake-filled air. She looked up at the moving white snow in the grey sky and felt its feather-light cold touch on her forehead. The phone rang and broke her reverie.

‘Kayleigh, will you come inside and close that flaming door, or you’ll have us all catching our death,’ Marlene called. ‘The last appointment cancelled, and according to the radio the buses are either stuck en route or suspended until further notice.’ Kayleigh hoped and prayed that Mavis would make it to her sister’s safely. She knew her friend’s bravado hid a fragility she wouldn’t dream of admitting to.

‘Run the mop quickly over the floor will you, while I cash up? Then you can get off home, otherwise we’ll both be spending the night here,’ said Marlene. Kayleigh scowled behind her boss’s back and shuddered at the thought.

‘If it’s bad tomorrow I won’t be opening up,’ Marlene said, crossing the salon floor with the till drawer in her arms. She headed to the staff room to count and deposit the day’s takings in the safe.

Kayleigh didn’t need telling twice. Within five minutes she had her little white fur jacket on and was heading for the door. ‘Bye,’ she called out to her boss without a backward glance. She negotiated her first few steps on the compacted snow by holding onto the walls of the building, then slid across the iced pathway and hung onto a lamp post. The surface of the pavement was uneven and she could see parts of it were like a sheet of glass. With a lot of respect, she watched those brave enough to walk on it although they looked as if they were unwitting contestants from a TV show – falling and slipping around in an undignified manner. She negotiated her route via a telegraph pole and a signpost – anything that would help her make it to her car unscathed. Looking back at the salon through the blizzard, she could see a couple of people who looked to be helping Marlene down the steps. She tutted, and Mavis said her boots weren’t suitable! She obviously hadn’t clapped eyes on Marlene’s stilettos.

Walking like an octogenarian, Kayleigh became fascinated by the puzzle of the ice. In the near white-out conditions threatening to paralyse the town, she saw the outline of her car – and as her footsteps eventually cut tracks into the virgin snow around it, she was thankful to spot the orange, rotary, safety light mounted high on the roof of a snow plough coming her way. She looked up at the driver, whose face held no expression, but to her surprise she saw Mavis sat alongside him, chattering away. Mavis was highly delighted to see her, and waved as the gritter came to a standstill.

As Kayleigh waited for the line of traffic to move, the window of the gritter wagon opened, ‘Hey Blondie!’ the driver shouted. ‘You’re going up towards the Manchester Road in that little pink monster, Mave here tells me.’

‘I’m gonna try,’ she shouted back.

‘I’m going your way after I’ve dropped her off at the train station,’ he said. ‘Follow me and I’ll show you the world and anything else you want.’ She could hear Mavis chuckling and could only guess at her retort.

 It must be dead boring gritting the roads, Kayleigh thought, but if she hurried he was right, she might have more chance of getting home following in his tracks. Looking down at the driver’s side door of her car, her hopes were soon dashed. She leaned against the car and moaned; all she had to do now was clear the snow that her knight in shining armour, had pushed against it. Her feet were wet and her toes were numb.

Downhearted, she trudged around the car, scraping off the snow with her bare hands. She looked down at her new boots with despair, for they were surely ruined. Mavis, bless her, was right and she would tell her so when she next saw her. In future, she vowed to keep a pair of wellingtons on hand for days like these. Parked behind her car was a scooter, no doubt Donny Longbottom’s. Where was her tormenter when she needed him? Probably at home if he had any sense. He might have a screw or two loose, but even he wouldn’t risk riding his bike in these conditions.

Red hands that had been numb began to feel painful at the knuckles as she attempted to rub life back into them. Kayleigh sat for a moment, cold and tired with the exertion. She picked up her mobile phone. ‘
Can I come to yours Matt?’
she texted.

‘It’s Wednesday. I’m at me mate’s but you’ve got a key,’
her boyfriend texted back.

‘Damn,’ she said wiping away a tear that ran down her face.

Kayleigh rang her mum, but the phone went straight onto the answer machine. ‘I’m heading for Matt’s, mum,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry about me, love you.’

Sighing deeply, Kayleigh threw her phone onto the passenger seat. Surprisingly the little car’s engine roared into action and as she waited for the windows to clear she turned on the radio to hear the next weather alert. She set the heater to blow warm air down onto her feet, and wiped the inside of the car windows with a leatherette. Kayleigh hadn’t been driving for long and had never driven in snow, but she adored driving her bright pink Ka and she was looking forward to the challenge now she felt a little warmer.

The roads were congested. The daylight was beginning to disappear rapidly and the night was drawing in sooner than expected, due to the grey, low snow clouds. Kayleigh sat patiently in the queue at the start of the Manchester Road. Her windscreen wipers were going ten to the dozen just to clear the driving snow but at least she was heading in the right direction. One minute she was sat in the queue and the next her car slid into the curb as she attempted a corner on a slight incline. ‘Flaming hell,’ she said out loud, feeling a thread of fear run through her veins. She gripped the steering wheel tighter, pursing her lips together tightly as if trying to whistle, and blew out slowly. ‘Thank God it’s only six more miles to Matt’s.’

Traffic was at a snail’s pace. Impatiently she leaned to her right to try to see around the vehicle in front, but all she could spot were brake lights illuminating against the snow-filled backdrop. Moments later the traffic came to a standstill, but Kayleigh wasn’t too worried, she kept telling herself that at least she was warm and safe. She shuffled in her seat, in an attempt to make herself comfortable. She sang along to the radio and tapped the steering wheel rhythmically with her finger tips, but the snow didn’t abate and after a while she could feel panic starting to rise in her throat. Ironically, she now willed the broadcast to give her the next weather update. Ahead, she could now see, were red lights which reminded her of an airport runway. She looked at her watch. Fifteen minutes went by. The snow continued to fall.

‘Beep,’ went the radio, followed by an announcement. ‘The police report that a wagon has jack-knifed on Manchester Road, causing a collision with a bus. Emergency services are at the scene and ask for your patience,’ said the presenter. ‘The advice being given out by the police to all motorists is to travel only if it is absolutely crucial. If you’re already out on the road, please drive with the utmost care and don’t abandon your vehicle unless it is safe to do so – the gritters and snow ploughs need to get through.’

Kayleigh groaned. ‘That’s all I need,’ she said. But the fact that the gritters were out in force gave her hope.

An hour passed and still there was no movement. Kayleigh looked at her watch again. Cars around her were being abandoned. More and more people appeared to be parking up and risking finishing their journey on foot. According to the radio, community centres and churches were being opened to accommodate those in trouble. But that was only for old people, she told herself.
‘I’m stuck on Manchester Road, listening to the radio updates,’
she texted Matt. Her phone bleeped. The battery was low.

‘I’m at Dave’s.’

‘Great,’ she sighed.
‘I might as well try and get home if you’re not going to be there,’
she texted.

‘Whatever,’
he texted back.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Wasn’t she more important than his stupid friend and the childish computer games she knew they would be enjoying, sat in a nice warm flat?

The snow was relentless. Her mind was set, she would stay put, even if that meant sleeping in her car. She watched another stream of people walk past after abandoning their vehicles. As time went by, the amount of people passing dwindled and it was only the occasional lonely, snowman-like figure that she saw. She felt alone and began to question her earlier decision. Maybe she should have tagged along with the crowd? The stretch of road she was on had no street lighting and the snow made the night feel eerie as evening quickly turned to dark. There were no houses nearby, but she had passed a couple of cottages set back from the road, close to where she had once dropped Mavis Beanland off. All but one had been in darkness and she assumed that the occupants of the others were stranded elsewhere. Maybe the house with the light on was Mavis’s home and she had decided to not attempt the train journey to her sister’s after all and the gritter man had dropped her off at home? Kayleigh’s spirits rose for a moment, but a sudden bang on the passenger door made her jump. She could see a face squashed up against the window and she quickly hit the button to lock the doors. She grabbed her phone and turned the radio down. She could hear a man’s voice laughing, shouting and singing.