Ice Diaries

by Lexi Revellian

  “What’s your name?”

  “Get that light out of my eyes. You know my name.”

  I directed the torch to one side. “Your first name.”

  “No one calls me by it. Why d’you want to know?”

  “Because I don’t know the first thing about you. When were you born?”

  He stopped what he was doing and came over to me, standing close. His voice was quiet and intimate in the darkness. “Dominic. Hate that name. The twenty-third of September, 1993. What else do you want to know?”

  “What happened to your last girlfriend?”

  “SIRCS.”

  “I’m sorry. Are you a serial killer?”

  “No.”

  I eyed him narrowly. “If you were a serial killer, would you tell me?”

  “No. I’d let it come as a surprise.”

  After a moment I smiled, and he put his arms round me and kissed me. Suddenly it was as if everything had become simple. Going south with Morgan was meant, it was what I had to do, even at the risk of my life. He wasn’t David, but he was Morgan. I wasn’t sure exactly what my feelings for him were, but I finally admitted they were overwhelming and maybe I should do something about them while I had the chance. I’d made up my mind.

  Ice Diaries ~ Lexi Revellian

  CHAPTER 17

  Interlude

  Back at Bézier I started to top up the stove. Morgan held me and kissed my neck, insistent, getting in the way. He unzipped my jacket, muttering, “Leave that. It can wait.”

  “It’ll go out. We’ll freeze.”

  “I’ll do it then. You get into bed.”

  I drew the curtains to shut out the grey light and the falling snow, double-checked I’d locked the door, and lit the bedside lantern. The silence was absolute. I undressed fast and got into bed, wondering if I was insane. The sheet and duvet against my naked skin felt strange; I’m used to wearing layers even in bed, curled like a cocoon inside my sleeping bag. Now I lay propped on one elbow with the covers up to my chin, chilly, gripped with doubt and anticipation, watching Morgan in the shifting candle light. He closed the stove lid and came towards me, his eyes grave under level brows, frowning slightly, intent. I couldn’t stop staring at him. He stripped, dropping his clothes on the floor, till he wore only the chain with dog tags. All his muscles were as impressive as the ones I’d already seen. The black tattoo contrasted with winter-pale skin. He’d got just the right amount of chest hair. I don’t like men with bald or simian chests. He slid into bed beside me and pulled me close.

  “Come here.”

  I shivered. “Your hands are icy.”

  “So are your feet, but I’m not complaining.”

  I stared into this stranger’s eyes, so alarmingly close, then at his mouth, just beginning to smile. His stubbly beard was a shade darker than his unkempt hair. He had an L-shaped scar on his forehead I’d never noticed before. His skin against mine made me shake, but not with cold. His finger tips brushed my face. That felt good – Morgan felt good. I relaxed into his arms and ran my hand down his muscled side, lightly over the knife cut scab, round his waist and up the cleft of his backbone. He made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan and his mouth met mine. My toes were warming up. I was beginning to think this had been one of my better ideas after all.

  Some while later I insisted on making Morgan tea, wearing his sweater over my pyjama trousers. We sat up in bed leaning against each other and sipping. He was nice to lean on, like a sun-warmed boulder. Though entirely sober, I felt happy and irresponsible and a bit drunk. I was seized by a sudden curiosity.

  “What did you do before you worked for Mike?”

  “I went in the army at seventeen. Didn’t like it much, too regimented. No pun intended. Casual labouring jobs after that.”

  I reached for his army dog tags, one on a long chain, the other attached to it on a short one; steel with black rubber rims. Both said,

  O POS 892058172 MORGAN D ND

  “ND?”

  “Non denomination. Though it’s true what they say, there’s no such thing as an atheist in a foxhole.”

  “Why d’you still wear it?”

  “I got superstitious after a couple of lucky escapes.”

  I made him tell me about them. Then, “What would you have done if the world had gone on?”

  “Not MMA for much longer. The businessmen get rich, not the fighters. I was saving for a sailing cruiser. I wanted to go round the world, see all the places off the beaten track. I’d nearly saved enough, I was starting to look at boats. If it had all happened a month or two later, I’d have been in the Mediterranean. How about you?”

  “Much tamer. I worked as a copywriter for a voucher firm. You know, they do special deals to offer dinners out, spa days and tooth whitening half price.” It had been my first job; I’d enjoyed it. “Talking of boats, how are we going to cross the Channel?”

  “I think it may be frozen by now. It’s only twenty-one miles from Dover to Calais, and it’s been sub-zero temperatures for a year.”

  “Supposing it’s not?”

  “Then we’ll think of something else. The Channel Tunnel, maybe.”

  “Right.” I didn’t ask how we’d get a snowmobile through the tunnel. I decided not to worry about our two thousand mile journey, but take it one step at a time. Morgan said we should leave as soon as possible. He didn’t say because Mike might come back to get me, but that’s what he meant. A shadow fell over my happiness. I suggested we started sorting out what we were taking from my stores that same evening. He agreed.

  Going through my supplies I was amazed how much was there. I couldn’t quite believe that in a day or two I’d be out of the home that had been mine for the last year, and never see it again; never use the food, firewood and clothes I’d put so much effort into collecting. I’ve always been nagged by the anxious feeling that my stockpile needed building up for fear of illness or some other disaster; however much I had, it never seemed enough. Now I realized I’d got plenty for one person to live on for a year or more, and almost all of it would be left behind, like my friends here. I felt suddenly overwhelmed by nostalgia for the life I’d soon be leaving; my head drooped and I stood motionless, on the verge of tears.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  Morgan came over to me. I swivelled and buried my face in his chest, sniffing. “I don’t know. It’s the thought of leaving everything, I suppose.”

  He stroked my hair. “You’re tired. You’ll be fine once we’re on the move.”

  “Suppose we can’t find a generator? What then?”

  “We can manage without if we get the right kit. Arctic expeditions do – did. Goose down sleeping bags and high tech clothing, an extra gas stove for if one fails. We’ll get up early tomorrow and do a systematic search. It’ll be okay.”

  His arms were comforting. I’d forgotten how nice it is to be hugged by another human. After all, the others could use up what I left; nothing would be wasted. With luck we’d be on our way the next day. Morgan said, “We’re nearly finished. Let’s take a break. Food and drink, that’s what you need. That’ll cheer you up. Then I’m going to move the sled somewhere out of view.”

  I looked up at him.

  “Just in case,” he said.

  Ice Diaries ~ Lexi Revellian

  CHAPTER 18

  Visitor

  When I woke the next morning, I was alone. Sunlight shone between a crack in the curtains. A note by the bed read,

  Didn’t want to wake you. Gone to get petrol.

  Morgan

  I lay and thought about Morgan for a bit, then stretched and got up, skirting the neat pile of all the stuff we’d chosen last night to take with us. He had filled the stove before leaving – I must have been deeply asleep for his moving about not to have roused me. I washed and dressed, then put another pan of water on to the stove top and got out the porridge. Something outside the window caught my eye. Dark against the brilliant sunlit snow, a man, skiing towards me. A new
arrival; no one I knew had skis. As I stared, the tall figure looked more and more familiar. My heartbeat accelerated. He swerved to a halt by my balcony, bent to release the skis, picked them up and climbed over the rail, clumsy in shiny red ski boots. I fumbled to open the door, stumbled forwards and wrapped my arms around him as tight as I could, my eyes filling at the feel of his skinny frame through the padded jacket. David had come to find me at last. He propped his skis against the railing so he could hold me.

  “I thought you were dead!”

  He patted me. “I thought you were dead too, Piglet. This is unbelievable.” I wanted to cling to him forever. Morgan – I’d have to tell him I couldn’t go with him. After a minute David pulled away and held me by my shoulders, looking down into my eyes. I’d forgotten his were that particular shade of greenish khaki. I could have gazed for an eternity. He said, “We’ll freeze. Let’s go inside.”

  I led the way. He laid his skis on the floor and sat on a stool, one leg swinging, looking round the flat. “You’re nicely set up here. Very organized.” I grasped his hand. He smiled and said, “It’s so good to see you. You look just the same. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  He had always had soft hands; they still were, unlike mine which were now hard, with calluses. Or Morgan’s hands … I rubbed his knuckles against my cheek, unable to stop gazing at his face. “You’re thinner. I missed you so much … I’ve imagined you turning up like this, but never really thought you would.” With my free hand I knuckled the tears from my eyes. “Did your parents get away?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Nor did my mother. Where were you all this time?”

  “For the last year I’ve been living in a sort of commune – there’s over sixty of us – in Strata, at the Elephant and Castle.”

  “The Elephant and Castle?” I stared at him. “But that’s only three miles away!”

  “If I’d known you were here I’d have come before.”

  Three miles was a long way walking through the snow. That’s why our group hadn’t made contact with any others. “When did you get skis?”

  “Six months or so ago.”

  Six months. On skis, he could easily have visited every nearby settlement, if he’d been determined to find me. A lump formed in my throat. For a moment I couldn’t speak. I dropped his hand, and he let me.

  As if excusing himself he said, “I fractured my fifth metatarsal, I couldn’t walk. I did come, as soon as I got better and got the skis. Your flat was under the snow. I thought you’d died or been evacuated.”

  “You could have asked around, tried all the places with smoke. I wasn’t far away. Anyone here would have told you where I was.” My old flat was half a mile from Bézier – he’d been so close. All that grief he could have saved me … I’d prayed for David to be alive, I’d longed to see him again, and now I had, my main emotion was pain that he’d given up on me so easily – with, I had to acknowledge, a side helping of resentment. I said, “If you’d looked, you’d have found me. You didn’t bother.”

  “Tori, don’t be like that.”

  “Have you any idea how miserable I was over you?”

  “I was miserable too.” He sounded defensive. This wasn’t how I’d imagined our reunion, or how it was supposed to be. This was the man I loved. It was all going wrong. He said, “I came as soon as I knew you were here.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “A group of people turned up yesterday. They fetched me because one of the men had a broken nose – quite a bad one, with displacement and bleeding that wouldn’t stop. He was having trouble breathing.”

  “Eddie. Did you meet Mike?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s a psycho.”

  David frowned. “He didn’t strike me as a psychopath. He came across as a genuinely nice guy, anxious about Eddie, and very pleased to get a doctor to him.”

  “Okay, I should have said, he’s a plausible psycho. Trust me on this.”

  He looked unconvinced. David has a good brain, and is confident about its capacities; he tends to believe his own observations where they conflict with other people’s experience. I’d forgotten how annoying this could be. He said, “What about the man who smashed Eddie’s nose, is he still here?”

  “Morgan. Yes.”

  “Seems to me he’s the one who’s a psycho, if anyone is. I had quite a long talk with Mike. He seemed eminently sane and normal to me. Caring, even. His main concern is to protect the little group of people he’s trying to get away from this mess.”

  “In other words, he turned on the charm and you fell for it.”

  “Give me some credit, Tori, I’m not a complete idiot.”

  “I’m not saying you are, just that he fooled you.”

  “Have you considered, perhaps it’s you who’s got him wrong? He offered me one of the snowmobiles to go south with him. He said he’d like to have a doctor along. It’s a fantastic opportunity. I’m almost sure I’ll accept.”

  If Mike was offering him a passage south, then David had every reason to want to think well of him. Maybe it was a fantastic opportunity – if Mike didn’t dump him en route. “Did he tell you where I was?”

  “Your name didn’t crop up. His girlfriend told me later while she and Mike were having a drink with me. She got quite chatty and mentioned you. So of course I came as soon as I could get away.”

  “That was big of you.” Now I’m channelling Morgan.

  He flushed. “I came, didn’t I? Even though I got into a row with Katie over it.”

  “Katie? Who the fuck’s Katie?”

  “You never used to swear.” He was being evasive.

  “Maybe I’ve changed in the last year. Who is she?”

  “She looked after me when I turned up with my fractured foot.”

  “And that gives her the right to tell you what to do?”

  “She … she’s my girlfriend. I’m sorry.”

  “Fine.” I took a deep breath. I couldn’t see how to right this nightmare conversation, everything was changing too fast. It was like watching a film on fast-forward, or being a passenger in a brakeless car, waiting for the crash as it careered along, engine screeching and juddering.

  He said, “Try to understand. I was ill, she was nursing me, it just happened. Then she got pregnant …”

  “So you have a pregnant girlfriend.” Next he’d be telling me he’d acquired a dog, a Volvo and a mortgage.

  “No, she had the baby end of March. A little girl. She’s nearly two months.” He smiled fondly. “We called her Tessa. I wish I had a photo here to show you, she’s a sweetheart.”

  So he’d got it together with Katie within weeks of losing track of me, and now they were a happy family unit. In the same period, all I’d done on the relationship front was grieve for him. While I’d been crying over him on his birthday, he no doubt had been celebrating with Katie. I could hardly blame him for having a girlfriend when I’d slept with Morgan, but at least I’d waited a year before being unfaithful. And why on earth would he imagine I’d want to see photos of his child by my replacement? How crass can you get? Indignation rendered me speechless. As the silence lengthened David began to look uneasy. I’d forgotten how we used to argue – maybe it was coming back to him too.

  I was still struggling to find adequate words when there was the sound of an engine. The Polaris hove into view, did a flashy U-turn in a fountain of snow, and stopped by my balcony in a sudden silence. Morgan climbed over the rail and walked in, taking off his dark glasses. He looked from me to David and back again. I wouldn’t have said he was one of the world’s most sensitive souls, but the tension in the room was so palpable you could trip over it.

  I said, “This is David. Morgan.”

  I could see Morgan thinking back to locate where he’d heard that name; the flicker in his eyes as he registered who David was. He gave him an assessing glance, said hi, then deliberately came to my side, put his arm round me and kissed my cheek. I got a whiff of petrol from his clothes. “What’s fo
r breakfast?”

  “Porridge.” David’s expression was one of shocked surmise, even anger, I was gratified to see. I wanted to tell him to leave, but maybe I’d regret it when my own anger had died. I strove to sound calm and friendly. “D’you want some?”

  He dragged his gaze from Morgan and said, “No, I’d better be off. Can I just have a private word with you before I go?”

  I shrugged. “Okay.” I slung on my jacket and went with him to the balcony. We stood facing each other. “What?”

  His voice was low and concerned. “Are you … involved with that man?”

  “Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Mike told me about him. He said he was a cage fighter with a violent temper, untrustworthy, a thief.”

  I glared at him. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you run your life, and leave me to run mine?”

  “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  That was rich, considering how he’d just hurt me. “Do you know, I feel the same about you. Shall I come and vet Katie for you?”

  His face changed. “You’ve made your point, Tori. I’m sorry it had to end like this. Be seeing you.”

  “Bye.” I stomped inside and joined Morgan. I watched David fix his skis, put on his goggles, turn and head south, my feelings a maelstrom. He didn’t look back. His figure diminished in the distance.

  Morgan said, “Tell me what happened, then.”

  I told him, my voice trembling with indignation. Near the end, when I got to David’s two month-old baby Tessa and him wishing he had a photo to show me, Morgan turned away. This seemed a bit odd when I was talking to him – then I noticed his shoulders shaking. He was trying not to laugh. All at once it struck me as hilarious too, in kind of a heart-breaking way. I wailed, “I waited a year for him!”