The Devil in the Snow

by Sarah Armstrong

  Who do you ask for help to defeat the devil? The churches don’t believe any more and you can hardly defeat him with tarot cards. A paper cut, maybe, if you threw them just right. Death by a thousand cuts sounded like a good, convincing way to kill something but my aim wasn’t great, I didn’t have enough cards and I wasn’t quite sure how physical he was.

  I occasionally saw him standing where his chair used to be but there was no shadow, no matter how many lights I put on. He had no reflection in the window or glass covered pictures. There were no mirrors. Sometimes I saw through him with just a hint of his outline.

  My mother had religion. I had maps and books on the occult and dreams of snow, the importance of snow, that revealed steps and tracks and people, and other visitors. I had focused on trying to understand where he had been, but as I looked at James’ postcards I realised that this had been the wrong approach. My great-grandparents had run when they discovered they were hunted. I knew I was being hunted, so why wasn’t I running? Because he was already here. ‘You took me to her,’ he said. He could only follow me. Somehow we were linked.

  After all these years of being taunted, I now knew that he couldn’t move on to anyone else until I was dead. That’s when I began to plan. Maybe I could draw him away from Shona, trap him in some distant place, bind him while he was still tied to my shadow. My mother’s stories were full of wise people who had tricked the devil. I wasn’t wise, but I was willing to sacrifice everything, even my soul, and that is its own kind of power.

  I’d killed him once. It felt so unfair to make me do it again, but only I could.

  19

  Maynard had finally lowered the asking price and there was a sudden flurry of requests from the estate agent to see the house. Shona had heard them turn up to find the door bolted a couple of times. In any case, they had given up trying to get in. Shona had his attention. She’d ignored all of his attempts to phone her, insisting on a meeting. She’d stretched it out, allowed him to think of what he would give up, who he would give up. They were set for a verbal confrontation on the 6th of January and then Shona postponed. The 13th sounded better. They arranged a meeting at The George, eleven o’clock, for tea and maybe an early lunch. She wasn’t sure what she’d be in the mood for and The George covered all options – coffee, food or sudden strong spirits. Even a bed.

  Everyone seemed to be in the right place. Jude was at school, Thea was buzzing with facts about her new partner, Asha, Jimmy was on alert and Mariana was nowhere to be seen. Or more exactly, when it came to her, heard. Shona hadn’t tried to contact her. She knew Mariana and it wasn’t a good idea to chase her. When she was ready to talk about Jude, Shona would know about it. Shona had got used to her absence in those years after Jude was born, and then got used to her being there again. She missed her. She would find a way to make things OK short of agreeing to have Jude baptised, which was a possible condition of Mariana’s continued favour. But it had to wait. Maynard came first.

  She left home far too early, in an unnecessary rush, and had to go back for her scarf which she wrapped over her nose. It was quite warm but the wind, swinging from the west, was stronger than she expected. She set out again, trying to walk slowly along the road, having to keep checking herself. There was plenty of time. She walked up past the police station, down the underpass and still she was an hour early. The shops had ‘last’ and ‘final’ displayed over the windows but she wasn’t interested. As she walked past the library she felt pleased there would be no more essays. It was the last of many threads of her life. She was tying them together in the bright, cold sun and moving on.

  She went into a café across the road from The George to wait until it was time. She took a seat next to the window to watch for Maynard. She thought of Kallu, but she heard little from him now either. He’d left his job, but that was all she’d found out. She was cross that he would leave without saying goodbye, but, simultaneously, entirely expected him to do that. Still, it would hurt. He may have left already, but she knew he was taking someone and no-one else had gone yet.

  Ten to eleven. She drank the last of her tea and put her bag over her head and shoulder so the strap crossed her body. She wanted to be ready to run. That’s when she saw Maynard kissing Cerys goodbye, fiddling in his wallet for cash and then waving. Cerys turned from him, didn’t wait for the traffic lights, and darted across the road and out of Shona’s sight. Her eyes filled and she sat still to concentrate on blinking them back.

  She was four minutes late in the end, after all that waiting. The joy of having the power for once had faded away.

  He stood when he saw her.

  ‘Oh, sit down, Maynard. I’m not your mother.’

  ‘I ordered you a pot of tea.’

  ‘Of course you did.’

  Maynard clicked his fingers together. ‘Offending your feminist sensibilities again. I do apologise.’

  Shona took off her bag, scarf and coat and took her time settling down. When she was ready, she looked at him. He glowed with excitement. She’d seen that look before, on honeymoon when she thought it was related to her in some way. When he came back from a multitude of trips with shadowy, secret men in dark rooms and smoky pubs and who knows what else. It was the excitement of greed, of the quest and the acquisition of something marvellous. There was something else in his eyes. Seduction. He intended to charm and wheedle something out of her that she’d said he could have, just so he could feel as if he won it from her, the weak woman who stupidly loved him enough to marry him, instead of accepting it from her in a fair exchange. A boring business deal that he’d made sure he could avoid as a way of making sordid money. He made exciting, dirty money. He probably made exciting, dirty love now to rows of exciting, dirty women who liked the way he glowed when he took something from them.

  For the first time the idea of a man being inhabited by a devil made sense. There was no way he was going to get that painting.

  ‘Here’s the deal,’ said Shona. ‘I get the house and contents, including the paintings and bits from the front room. You get the furniture from the front room as well as your other property and contents.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh.’ Shona looked down at the table. ‘It seems fair.’ She tapped her finger on her cup. ‘Is there any other furniture you’d like? Cerys’ wardrobe, or the crib you bought on our honeymoon?’

  His eyelids fluttered. ‘You said you got rid of the crib.’

  ‘I did get rid of it, in the sense that I got it out of my house.’

  Maynard swallowed hard and poured milk and then tea into his cup. Shona noticed the tremor.

  ‘Would you like some?’ he asked.

  She nodded. He poured and then settled back into the armchair, his cup in both hands. She let him think it over.

  ‘Where is the crib?’

  ‘Why, is it important?’

  ‘You knew how much I wanted that. It was important to me. I thought it had gone.’

  He wasn’t making eye contact, but talking to his cup.

  ‘I saw it as Meghan’s, not yours. But you can have it.’

  He sipped the tea and then drank it down.

  ‘I’m just going to get a whiskey. Do you want anything else to drink?’

  Shona shook her head. The tone he was using, considerate and generous, reminded her of those early months together. Before the miscarriage, before the crib, before Meghan. She watched him at the bar, shifting from one foot to the other, running his hand through his hair. His smile when he returned was fixed and wide.

  ‘We’ve been over for a long while,’ he said. ‘I like to think it’s time to become friends and go our separate ways. I do have somewhere else to live and it’s only right that you should too. I will see my solicitor when I get back to London and get him to write all this up, but I’d like to draw it all to a close. I get the furniture from my room and the crib. That’s all. You can have the house and everything else.’ His smile got slightly wider. ‘What do you say?’

  Sh
ona said, ‘You do also get to keep the most expensive things you acquired while we were married, the bank accounts and the flat, and I get the house.’

  ‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’ He held his breath.

  ‘I just want to be clear. It’s a deal,’ she agreed.

  He pulled his keys from his pocket. ‘Do you want the key for my room?’

  ‘Yes, that would be helpful.’

  He unlinked and handed it to her. She put the tiny, useless victory in her pocket. He exhaled, went to clink his glass on her teacup, then thought better of it and had celebratory drink by himself.

  ‘What about Cerys?’ asked Shona.

  ‘I’ll talk to her about coming back home.’

  ‘I didn’t say I wanted her back.’

  Maynard’s jaw slackened. ‘Oh, I thought . . .’

  ‘Let’s just leave that up to her.’

  Maynard put his glass down and fumbled for his phone in his pocket. ‘No, wait. She’s here. Let me call her to meet us.’

  ‘No need.’ Shona stood up. ‘I have to go now, in any case.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Maynard stood as well. ‘I’ll get the paperwork sorted immediately. You should get it through in a day or so.’

  ‘Fine. Just remember that Cerys isn’t part of this deal. I don’t want any reference to her in the papers. She’s old enough to choose.’

  Maynard nodded and held his hand out.

  ‘It’s not business, Maynard. It’s just the end of a marriage.’

  Outside The George she phoned Jimmy. It went to answerphone. ‘I need to book you up for a few days. A restoration project. Phone me back.’

  Next she phoned Mariana. Another answerphone. ‘I need your help for a couple of days, Mariana. I’m going to come and find you now.’

  She saw Cerys standing across the High Street. She thought about running over to her and begging her to come home. She thought about promising her the world. Cerys kept her hands in her pockets, and Shona saw Maynard reach her, put his arm round her shoulders and guide her away. Cerys turned round to look back. Shona raised her hand, blew her a kiss and walked away.

  20

  Maynard was due at 2 o’clock. Shona was watching the garage door from Greta’s kitchen window. Jimmy emerged from Greta’s garage at half past one, red-eyed and sniffing, and slumped past Shona into the front room. Mariana emerged a couple of minutes later, a package in her arms. In the kitchen she didn’t put it down, but stood, holding it to her.

  ‘I owed you this,’ said Shona.

  ‘You didn’t quite give it to me. I won it.’

  ‘I knew you would. How did he take it?’

  ‘He cried. I let him hold it for a while, but he cried when he handed it over.’

  ‘It’s not the money. He really does love it.’

  ‘I know. But it’s not his to keep.’

  Shona nodded towards the front room. ‘Shall we go in?’

  Mariana nodded. Shona picked up the tray of tea and biscuits and followed her through. Greta had her arm around Jimmy and was sitting on the arm of the sofa. Shona put the tray down and handed everyone a mug. Mariana shook her head, and even refused a biscuit.

  Shona said, ‘You can keep all the paintings you’ve got, Jimmy.’

  He coughed. ‘I thought you had to give them back.’

  ‘No, he didn’t mention paintings. Nothing but furniture.’

  Jimmy raised his head. ‘Thanks, Shona.’

  ‘I know you’re upset, but it does need to go back. I owe Mariana that.’

  Jimmy glanced towards Mariana with her beatific smile and grunted. Shona started to relax. He wasn’t happy but he seemed to be tempted to give in on this. Maybe it would be OK. It could only ever have gone to Mariana. Shona settled back into the armchair and again noted the boxes, the empty shelves. Even in the kitchen things had looked strange, pared down. She looked towards her mother, but Greta looked past Mariana and stood up.

  ‘He’s early.’

  Shona stood to look as well. Cerys was in the car, looking towards the house. Behind Maynard’s sleek black car was a white Transit.

  ‘The papers are in the kitchen,’ said Mariana.

  ‘Aren’t you coming?’

  ‘No, you don’t need me any more.’

  She wasn’t letting go of the package.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Greta.

  Greta opened to the front door before Maynard could ring while Shona fetched the papers.

  ‘All sorted?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Shona. ‘Come round to the garage.’

  The sofa, the cabinets and desk. She had banked on him focusing only on the crib. That’s exactly what he did. He stroked it and examined it for signs of change or damage, but she trusted Jimmy’s steady hand.

  He stood up and smiled. ‘I’ll just get the movers.’ He walked back to his car and returned with two young men in white overalls and Cerys. Her hair was still blonde, but there were dark roots. She glanced at Shona but didn’t say anything.

  ‘Hi Cerys,’ said Shona. ‘How’ve you been?’

  ‘Fine. Is Jude here?’

  ‘No, he’s at school. I didn’t know what you were doing so I didn’t want to make a big deal of things and upset him. You’re very welcome to come with me and see him though.’

  Cerys shrugged. Maynard stopped watching the exchange and headed towards the garage.

  ‘You have to sign for everything first,’ said Shona, holding out a pen with the papers. She’d made sure the crib was at the front so he could see it easily. As he legally agreed that she had returned everything itemised, she had to clasp her hands together to stop them shaking. Then she turned to Cerys as they took the crib, the tea chest, the cardboard box, the display cabinets, the chaise longue, the coffee table with two mug rings and the bureau, emptied of papers, back to the van.

  ‘How are you really, Cerys?’

  She shrugged. ‘All right.’

  ‘Good.’

  Cerys looked at Shona as if she expected to be asked something else, but Shona turned back to the removal. Maynard was quietly berating the overalled men, straightening the blankets that covered the furniture, and being generally dismissive.

  Shona turned back to Cerys. ‘Enjoying London?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  They stood in silence until the last item had been taken, guided by Maynard.

  ‘Well, see you later then,’ said Shona.

  ‘Mum?’

  Maynard came back up the drive with a large bag and dropped it at Cerys’ feet.

  ‘Well, thanks for asking me, Dad!’ shouted Cerys.

  ‘You belong with your mother, until you’re older anyway. I’ll ring you.’

  He walked away and they listened to the sound of two engines starting up.

  Cerys didn’t look upset. ‘I’d decided to come back anyway.’ She fidgeted. ‘If I can. I know you didn’t want to talk to me in town.’

  ‘I did want to. I just made the decision not to chase you. You knew where I was.’

  Shona realised the engines had then been turned off again. Maynard got out of the car and gestured to the van to stop.

  ‘He’s forgotten something,’ said Shona.

  Maynard ran back up the driveway. ‘I just saw Jimmy inside, through the window. Was it? Is he in there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Maynard screwed up his fists and made a grab for the papers she still held in her hands. Shona put them behind her back and he stood in front of her, forcing her to back up to the wall.

  ‘The deal’s off, give me those papers.’

  ‘You signed for everything. It’s over.’

  He pointed a finger towards her chest. ‘You knew. You got him to take out the painting and, what, let him keep it? I’ll make sure he goes back inside for this. I’ll make sure you go down for it too.’ He spat at her feet.

  ‘No, you won’t, Maynard. You’re behind this theft and many, many others. You lost y
our job because they had suspicions. They would be more than open to learning anything about you that would confirm what they already believe.’ She stepped forward, pressing against his finger. ‘You’re fucked.’

  He opened his mouth and then closed it again. He turned to Cerys. ‘Come on.’

  Cerys looked at Shona. Shona shrugged.

  Cerys turned to Maynard and said, ‘I don’t want to go with you.’

  Shona felt the tears build in her throat.

  ‘What have you said to her?’ Maynard grabbed Shona by the throat, banging her head against the wall. ‘What did you just say?’

  Cerys picked up her bag and hit him with it. ‘Get off her!’

  Maynard blinked and released Shona, then stepped back. ‘I’ll make your life hell. I’ll get your bastard taken away and I’ll fucking burn your house down with you in it.’

  Shona said nothing. Maynard said nothing. There was a light tapping on the kitchen window. They all turned to see Mariana with her phone held towards them.

  ‘What’s she doing?’ asked Maynard.

  ‘She’s videoing you,’ said Cerys.

  Maynard turned and ran to his car. Shona brought the papers back in front of her and smoothed them out. Her breath was shuddering and her throat burned, but she still refused to cry.

  Cerys whispered, ‘Can I come home?’

  ‘You don’t need to ask.’ Shona picked up the bag and showed Cerys through the back door. In the front room Mariana was back in her place and still glowing, Jimmy was still heartbroken and Greta was the only one to notice Cerys come in.

  ‘Good to have you back, Cerys.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Mariana, could you drive us back now?’ asked Shona.

  ‘Sure.’ Mariana stood up and awkwardly pulled the keys from her handbag. ‘Could you drive?’

  Shona nodded. ‘Come on, Jimmy.’ She handed the keys to Cerys. ‘Can you open the car?’ When the room was empty, she hugged Greta for slightly longer than she’d intended.