The Devil in the Snow

by Sarah Armstrong

  Jude was still splayed across her. She didn’t have enough arms to drag him so she needed compliancy. When he began to stir, she encouraged him to wake by adjusting him on her lap.

  Half an hour after Jude had woken they had reached the path back down to the beach. Dominic had moved from the small stones next to the cliff to the large slabs of concrete mid-beach. He was crouched down over something. Shona went back to their original spot, in that irrational way on an empty beach, and set up her picnic.

  When Dominic returned, he had had taken another step away from her. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled and he had thin sections of driftwood tied to his upper arms with seaweed. She knew him well enough by now that she wouldn’t get an answer if she asked.

  ‘I’ve received a message. I was told my true name. Kallu.’ His eyes were focused just past Shona and she fought the urge to shake him back to sense, back to her.

  In the end, she said, ‘OK.’

  ‘I have to think about leaving.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Soon.’

  Jude’s eyes were as wide as his mouth. Shona nudged him and he put his hand over his mouth. Dominic did this kind of thing. She knew that from their meetings under the tree on Victoria Road. Shona had accepted him as he was and had to accept in return that he may need help at some point. Or she knew that in theory. While he was talking, while he was there, she absolutely believed him and in him. Afterwards, remembering, it wasn’t so convincing.

  ‘Do you know what that means?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t think it has to mean anything.’

  ‘You need to eat now, Dominic.’

  ‘Kallu.’

  ‘That’s going to take a little while to get used to,’ said Shona.

  ‘I have time.’

  Jude kept his eyes on Dominic as he ate, the bubbling questions making it hard to swallow.

  The dark clouds pulled across their heads as they finished the crisps. The rain, welcome at first on their warm skin, soon became too heavy to be pleasant. Shona’s faith in the strong wind faltered and she signalled their retreat. She wrapped up the rubbish inside her jacket and led the way up the cliff to the long field which led back to the café. She heard muffled music, and looked to see which of the boys was humming before realising it was her phone. She pulled it from her coat, dropping crisp packets which Jude chased down.

  ‘Mariana, it’s not a good time. We’re getting soaked. Can I call you back?’

  ‘Who’s we? Isn’t Jude at school?’

  ‘We had a day off. Can I call you later?’

  ‘I can hear rain. Are you in the rain with Jude?’

  Jude ran back, waving the crisp packets, then tripped over and skidded on his knees across the gravel. There was a pause before he acknowledged he was injured and he wailed. Shona ran to him to grieve with him over the graze.

  ‘Jude’s hurt himself, so please can I call you back?’

  ‘Tell me where you are and I will collect you.’

  Shona sighed. She’d been putting off this meeting for months, years, had got it down to weekly phone calls, sporadic emails and Christmas cards. Now she couldn’t argue; she needed to deal with Jude. She told Mariana and shoved the phone back in her pocket as the rain got harder and wetter.

  The car pulled onto the gravel in front of the café so smoothly that there seemed to be no ripples in the pothole puddles. Mariana wound down the window to signal that they should come to her. The rain had stopped after they’d spoken, but Shona was painfully aware of the damp sand they all transferred into her manicured black saloon car. Jude still had his bribe in one hand, a half-melted Twix, but either Mariana hadn’t noticed or was still traumatised by the screams.

  After fastening Jude’s seat belt, Shona sat in the front, her hair dripping onto her face, and braced herself for questions.

  Mariana, self-consciously composed and beautifully tanned after her trip home to Portugal, raised one eyebrow. Shona could ignore eyebrows.

  ‘It’s been a while,’ Shona started. ‘You’re looking radiant. How’s the family?’

  ‘Good.’ Mariana’s eyebrow didn’t waver.

  ‘I think you could probably start driving now.’ Shona turned to the back seat. ‘Do you remember me mentioning Mariana, Jude?’

  ‘Of course he doesn’t. We’ve never met.’ Mariana gave words to his embarrassed wriggle. ‘I haven’t seen him since he wasn’t baptised.’

  Shona rolled her eyes. Mariana finally pressed on the accelerator and eased out of the car park.

  ‘Isn’t there someone else you need to introduce me to?’

  ‘This is Dominic, Kallu, Dominic. I think I mentioned him, but he was called Dominic then.’

  Mariana’s eyebrow shot up again and she adjusted the rear view mirror. ‘You’re the boy who is staying? I thought you would be older.’

  Kallu smiled. ‘Sorry, I’ll get older one day. It’s my birthday today so I’m trying.’

  Shona said, ‘You never said it was your birthday.’

  ‘And how are you finding the sofa?’ asked Mariana.

  Kallu said, ‘I moved into the shed.’

  The car slowed down. Shona was relieved he was fully back in the present and could hold his own with Mariana.

  ‘You were Dominic who came to stay and now you’re Kallu who lives in the shed.’

  ‘Just for a while.’

  The nails of Mariana’s right hand tapped the steering wheel as she reset the mirror with her left. ‘We really need to catch up properly, Shona.’ She looked slyly at Shona while keeping her head forward, and muttered something in Portuguese.

  Shona covered her smile as Mariana sped them away across the causeway. She always wanted to laugh when she felt awkward. But Dominic? Today was the first she’d heard of him thinking of leaving, even though they’d never really decided he was staying. She felt like Jude with his mouth full of crisps, unable to ask all the questions she had in case he answered them in front of Mariana. She looked to the side just as Mariana looked at her. She felt as if she’d been sent to the head teacher.

  Mariana sniffed and reset the mirror again. ‘Jude, normally this car does not carry chocolate, do you understand?’

  Jude shook his head.

  ‘Eat it up quickly,’ Shona said.

  ‘So when are you free for a nice long chat?’ said Mariana. ‘Now that Jude is at school it must be possible.’

  Jude’s eyes widened and he stopped chewing.

  ‘She means me,’ said Shona. ‘How about next week?’

  ‘I’ll hold you to it.’

  Shona smiled stiffly. Now she felt as if she’d been given detention.

  After she’d put Jude to bed, Shona found Cerys sitting by the shed with Kallu, both leaning against the side with their legs bent up in front of them. Cerys had a pair of ridiculously brief shorts on and a top that Shona knew was from a pyjama set. She looked so happy and young and desperate, her studied hair twist learned from videos. Cerys stretched her hand towards Kallu’s leg and stroked his ankle. Kallu looked confused, looked down at her hand and said something. Cerys blushed and Shona wanted to cry for her. Cerys stood up, and walked back to the house, her feet faltering when she saw Shona at the window.

  She came in the back door and went to leave it before Shona could say anything, but she caught up with her.

  ‘Cerys,’ Shona said. ‘Kallu isn’t staying for ever. Don’t get too used to him, OK?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Cerys was biting her lip, her cheeks still red.

  ‘He’s a good-looking boy, but he’s not right for you. He’s got things to work through.’

  Cerys scowled. ‘I’m not bothering him. I was just talking.’

  ‘Cerys, I don’t want you to spend time with him on your own.’

  ‘In case I throw myself at him? He’s made himself quite clear, thanks.’ Her eyes filled and she ran upstairs. Shona didn’t follow her. Humiliation was bad enough without someone watching.


  3

  She could hear Rob in his kitchen. Kettle boiling, bacon frying; breakfast at midday. The curtains were drawn and more than anything she wanted fresh air, a blowing breeze to strip the room of the smell of filthy socks and mouldy mugs. To get up, to allow the light in and fight with the stiff sash windows seemed too much trouble to go to, and she didn’t really want to see her house through the window. Instead Shona picked her bra and T-shirt off the floor next to the bed and pulled on the smell of leaves and home. She lay back on the pillow and looked at his pile of books: eclectic bedtime reading, research for other people’s essays and proof of other people’s qualifications.

  ‘Sarnie?’ He held two mugs of tea in one hand and two hasty, dripping sandwiches flat on the other palm.

  ‘Don’t you have any plates?’

  He shook his head. ‘Why make more washing up?’

  She took the tea and put it on the sisal drawers next to the bed, then took the sandwich in both hands. Rob got back on the bed next to her and they ate without speaking. He had brought up the smell of rancid, burnt oil with him from the kitchen. Rob wiped his hands on the duvet cover and folded his hands on his stomach.

  ‘I needed that.’ He looked at Shona from the corner of his eye. ‘You look much better with no clothes on, Mrs Marks. What have you got dressed for?’ He lifted her T-shirt up, but she held her arms by her sides. He slid his hand down her thigh. ‘I think you should turn up to Parents’ Evening like this. They’re very, very dull.’

  Shona placed the crusts next to her mug and smoothed the duvet back down. ‘Don’t you get tired of living like a student?’ She had never seen a brush or a comb in his room, had never seen him clean-shaven. His forehead was beginning to retain a light crease when he was sleeping and his eyes were permanently shaded by exhaustion.

  ‘Best years of my life,’ he said.

  ‘But you have to grow up one day.’

  ‘Nah, you don’t have to.’ He imitated a teenager’s intonation. ‘It’s a lifestyle choice to grow up. Or not. We don’t all want to be like you, marriage, kids.’

  ‘Still saving up for Thailand?’

  ‘I’m going to live like a king.’

  He waited until she put her mug down before putting his arm heavily across her breasts. He kissed her ear.

  ‘I have to go.’ She pushed him away.

  ‘You don’t have to.’

  ‘I’ve got things to do.’ She found her pants, still stuck inside a trouser leg, and pulled them on. She could see he was getting into work mode.

  Shona had tried to imagine the kind of person who would rather pay for an essay than just write it themselves. Sometimes she saw a frail figure, oppressed by the expectations of those around them. Today she saw a hung-over rugby player, planning his advancement through the political hierarchy.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about some new order requests. I need to get my ratings up. Can you come back tomorrow?’

  ‘I’m already doing the Apollo one. Let me think about it. Aren’t you finishing temping this week?’ Recently he was rarely here, less of a temptation. It was much easier when she didn’t know where he was from one week to the next.

  ‘I finish that maternity cover this week, thank God, and then next week I’m at some bloody school in Ipswich. That’s why I need you to accept something so I don’t look like I’m slacking.’

  She did her special smile again. ‘If you hate teaching so much, why don’t you get a different job?’

  ‘You’re not quite old enough to be my mother.’ He smiled. ‘Are you? How old were you when I was born?’

  She didn’t have to work it out. ‘Fourteen.’ The same age as Cerys. And there was the same difference in age between him and Cerys, but she didn’t mention that.

  He lay back. ‘So you could have been my mother. At a push. At some of the schools I’ve worked at you’d have been a late starter.’

  She turned away and put her jeans on, standing to zip them. She knew she should break it off, that she’d crossed a line which should make a difference. She hadn’t missed him over the summer holiday, hadn’t even looked towards his house from her own, but she knew she would come back tomorrow or the next day. She needed this space. She dragged her fingers through her hair and smoothed down her top.

  She pulled open the curtains and heaved up the sash window.

  ‘That’s better.’

  ‘Christ, bit bright, Shona.’ Rob got off the bed and sat down at his laptop. He pushed his sunglasses onto his face and began scrolling through the pages.

  She looked out past his garden and looked for her house. She saw Dominic, Kallu, standing on her lawn looking back up at her. She shivered and moved away. By moving into her shed he’d put himself right between her and Rob. Did he mean that Rob had been watching her? She rubbed her arms.

  ‘See, it’s cold now, isn’t it?’ said Rob. ‘Close it up, for fuck’s sake.’

  ‘In a minute. So what’s on offer?’ she asked. ‘Work wise.’

  ‘Ah.’ Rob scrolled back up. ‘A five-day twenty-page one on women in sport. Three hundred.’

  Shona shook her head.

  ‘I thought you’d like that.’ He looked surprised. ‘A pretty general one on Marx, boring.’ He scrolled down. ‘Dickens, the art of Benin, from modernism to post-structuralism, Heaney, Emmeline Pankhurst. Here’s a list.’ He handed her a print out. Shona sat back down on the bed. She had worked hard for her degree, had got a first and could have taken an easy path with it. She chose not to, but took a strange pleasure from imagining other people taking her expected route through life with her own work. She didn’t like working towards other people’s 2:1s or 2:2s. She suspected she might be a snob, but a well-paid one; there was more money in firsts so she didn’t have to justify herself to Rob.

  He tapped the page she was holding. ‘I think I’ll do a couple of thousand on Harry Potter. I’ll be up all night again.’

  Shona wrinkled her nose. ‘Try to have a shower, though.’

  ‘Yes, Mum. And you could bring some milk next time. I’ll probably have used it all.’

  ‘What about your housemates? Don’t they go to the shops either?’

  ‘Whose milk do you think we’ve been drinking? Wasn’t my bacon either—’ he kissed her cheek ‘—or my bread.’

  She put the paper, now folded twice, into her bag and shrugged her coat on.

  ‘I’ll try to remember.’

  She left him at the computer, yawning and shaking empty cigarette packets. He shouted, ‘Could you get me a packet of fags?’ but she closed the door without acknowledging him. When she was on the stairs, he shouted, ‘Come back and close the window!’

  If he had to buy cigarettes, he might actually get some food as well, and he could close his own window.

  On the way back home she knocked at her neighbour’s house. She hadn’t seen Amy for ages, but she had heard her crying in the night. There was no point knocking too early, but Amy didn’t seem to want to answer.

  She shouted through the letter box, ‘Amy, it’s just Shona!’

  There was a shuffling noise and she let the letter box fall. Amy pulled the door slightly open, showing most of her face. She was wearing a dressing gown, one bare foot covering the other.

  ‘Yeah?’ Her eyes were heavy, her breath sour. Her long hair hung lifelessly and Shona thought she could see the edges of a black eye.

  ‘Anything I can get you? I’m going to the shop later.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘OK. Let me know if I can help.’

  Amy shut the door. As their houses joined, Shona knew when Amy had visitors and there hadn’t been any for a while. Someone behind Shona cleared their throat and she turned, expecting to see her other neighbour, Lee. She was surprised to see Mariana waiting at her gate.

  ‘Have you been waiting for me?’

  ‘We did have plans, Shona.’

  ‘Sorry, I got caught up with something.’

  Mariana followed her around to t
he back door. She seemed jittery. She got jittery when she was angry. Her bracelets rattled as she dramatically illustrated her points in the air.

  Shona said, ‘Did you see Amy? She doesn’t look as bad as before.’

  ‘If I knew a woman like that one,’ Mariana nodded her head towards the shared wall, ‘I would force her to get help.’

  ‘I can’t.’ Shona sat down heavily. ‘I want to help her, but I can’t force her.’

  ‘Some people you can’t help. But I would always say I’d tried.’ She tutted. ‘Before it was too late. She has a family, doesn’t she?’ She clamped her lips together and looked down at her mug.

  ‘Maybe I just hear more because there’s no firewall in the loft. There’s just the bedroom wall and our ceilings are linked so the noise just jumps right over. Most of it is just her, falling over. Not all of it.’ There was no point in lying to Mariana, or herself. Shona knew what she could hear wasn’t right, but she had known Amy before she started drinking and didn’t want to give up on her yet. Shona had been in a similar place after Meghan and could easily have gone the same way. Mariana knew that, better than anyone. She made the coffee and watched Mariana wait for the next point to demolish.

  They sat, challenging each other to change the subject first. Whoever blinked and did it would have lost this round. Shona usually won because Mariana became so infuriated she cracked and had to stand in the garden to have a cigarette. This time, though, she spoke. ‘Nothing has changed, Shona. You’re the one who would have to live with it. That woman next door can’t look after herself. There’s morally little difference between letting die and killing, even if some would argue a legal difference.’

  Shona admired the way she elongated her vowels, as if partly to remind her listeners that she was Portuguese, not really one of them, and partly because it suited her languorous personality. Sometimes Shona mimicked her in response. Today she smoothed her hair around the back of her head. Her neighbour wasn’t really what was making Mariana cross; she was just an excuse for an argument.