‘No,’ said Josh, coming out too with his coat on. ‘Me and Gav and Mic’s going to a film. You and Rosie can go for a boring walk if you want. You should’ve come yesterday!’
‘Hurt,’ Rosie said, reaching out and touching her father’s face.
‘Yes. My caravan got pushed over in the storm. We could go and see the wreck if you like, Josh.’
‘What for?’
‘Well… just so you can see how powerful the wind can be.’
‘Can’t,’ Josh said. ‘We’re going to this film. I told you.’
‘You should’ve phoned,’ Mic said again. ‘So, you goin’ to take us, or what?’
‘I don’t seem to have much choice.’ Rob opened the doors of the Land Rover ungraciously, and they all climbed in. Gavin and Josh scrambled in together and commandeered the bench seats in the back. Rosie sat on the small middle seat in the front, with her hand in Mic’s, and seemed entirely at home there. Rob glanced at them from time to time as they drove along – this unknown, clearly unsuitable, female and his precious daughter – and was jealous of their rapport. He tried to talk over his shoulder to Josh, but the boy was too interested in competing with Gavin.
‘My feet are bigger’n yours,’ he was boasting.
‘But I’m taller’n you,’ Gavin said.
‘My mum says I’ll most probly catch up and overtake you.’
‘I’ll always be older’n you though.’
‘Six months is nothing!’
‘Oh yes it is.’
‘Oh no it isn’t!’
‘Shut it, you two, awright?’ Mic growled, over her shoulder.
Rob’s resolve hardened. When they got to the cinema, he stopped on a double yellow line on the opposite side of the road, and they all got out. Rob took Josh and Rosie firmly by the hand as if to cross. Mic was ahead of him with Gavin. ‘Right then,’ Rob called to Mic. ‘Enjoy the film, won’t you? I’ll bring these two back around six.’ Then he opened the rear door and bundled his children back in again, Josh first.
‘Hey!’ Mic shouted, halfway across the busy road, and already committed. ‘You can’t do that!’
‘Oh, but I can.’ Rob nipped smartly round to the driver’s side, got in, and drove off without bothering about seatbelts.
‘It’s not fair,’ Josh wailed, fighting the child-locked back door without success. ‘I want to see the FILM!’ He began hitting the back of his father’s head and shoulders with small fists.
Rosie started to cry too. ‘I want Mic. I want Mic.’
Rob drove with one hand, fending off the blows with the other. ‘Stop it, Josh! You’ll get us all killed.’
‘I hate you,’ Josh cried, throwing himself backwards on to one of the seats in despair. ‘Everything’s all your fault!’
I adore snow, Nell thought as she looked out of her window one Sunday morning. I’m glad Rob was wrong!
It was now mid-December and snow had arrived overnight, all six inches of it, without warning. It lay sparkling white under the morning sun, its surface still shifting from time to time in the brisk north wind, as unstable as a sand dune. Nell went out in it, penetrating its virgin purity with her wellies and leaving ugly tracks. There was a four-foot drift right across the door of the woodstore, so she was obliged to dig her way in with a spade to get her fuel for the day ahead. She wished, not for the first time, that the damned stove would stay in overnight and not smoke so much when she first lit it. Getting one’s energy from a renewable resource was all very well, and wonderfully PC but it was also self-evidently a health hazard, apart from being bloody hard work … She looked across at the river, and saw long sheets of ice by the low-tide channel where the outgoing fresh water had frozen at its edges. The mudflats were covered in snow too. Nell’s hands, even in their woolly mittens, felt numb with the cold. She put them under her armpits and hugged them, looking about her at the transformed scenery and deciding which elements of it she would paint, once she was warm again and fed.
She wondered whether the paper shop would have delivered her Independent on Sunday as usual. She would walk up to her box by the top road later on to find out. There were no sounds of distant traffic. Maybe everyone and everything had been snowed up – or should that be down? – to a standstill. Nell smiled gleefully and, gathering up logs, began ferrying them to the basket in her kitchen. The telephone rang as she was finishing her breakfast scrambled eggs. ‘Hello?’
‘It’s Rob Hayhoe. Have you got snow?’
‘Masses of it, yes. Oh, I suppose you want your sledge back?’
‘Is that a problem?’
‘Well, no, I just fancied trying it out first, if that’s all right? It’s years since I went tobogganing.’
‘When I was about twelve,’ Rob said, ‘I made myself some skis by nailing an old pair of cut-off wellingtons onto a couple of planks.’
Nell had to smile. ‘And did they work?’
‘Not really. They didn’t curve up at the front, you see, so they dug into each passing molehill and I went arse over tit every time. But I persevered, and made a special slide down the field by our house, and that worked a charm. I remember I won a quid from Bert in a bet that I couldn’t keep upright all the way down. I’ve never forgotten it, because the slide turned to ice and lasted for days after all the proper snow had melted.’
‘I’d like to have seen that.’ Why is it, Nell thought, that every time I get fed up with Rob, he goes and redeems himself by saying something endearing, and then I want to like him all over again? Well, this time I’m definitely not falling for it. ‘Do you want to collect your sledge today then?’ she asked. ‘Are the roads passable?’
‘They’ll be fine by midday. The gritters and salters are out in force. I’ll come straight after lunch, if that’s OK? That’ll give you the whole morning to use it first.’
But Nell didn’t go tobogganing. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to go alone. It would have seemed almost as pathetic as ballroom dancing with a chair. Instead, she sat at her window and did quick pencil sketches of the river before the light changed.
Rob arrived at 1.15, dressed for the Arctic in boots, parka and woolly hat, and with his bruises all but gone. They went together to the woodstore to collect the sledge. ‘It’s very dusty,’ Nell said. ‘I’ll just get something to brush it down.’
‘I thought you were going to try it out.’
‘It felt too silly, all by myself,’ she confessed.
‘Well… would you like to have a go with me?’
Nell barely hesitated. The lure of sledging was too strong. ‘I’d have to put something on to keep out the cold.’
‘Go on then.’
Nell found her red fleece hat with earflaps, her bright blue waterproof jacket, some khaki overtrousers, green wellingtons, and her multicoloured stripey mittens, and donned them all. ‘How do I look?’
‘Like Noddy,’ Rob said, smiling broadly. Then he pulled the sledge up the lane to the top, walking in his Land Rover tracks, which ploughed through several transverse drifts.
‘Which is the ten-acre?’ Nell asked, puffing behind him.
He led her to the long field which sloped down to the woods by the river on the east side of her lane. Then they sat on the sledge together, Rob at the back using his feet as brakes and digging his boots into the snow until Nell, holding on to the rope and with both feet on the rail, was safely seated.
‘Hold tight,’ Rob cried, putting both arms around her and letting go of the ground. He fitted his boots next to hers on the rail, and gripped her legs with his knees as though he were riding a charger. Nell felt all too aware of his closeness. The sledge gathered speed on the steepest bit of the hillside and fairly flew downwards. She whooped with delight and felt her steamy breath snatched away in the cold air.
The snow was dry and granular, and thick enough to hide any blemishes on the broad complexion of the great field. The surface grains were still blowing up from time to time in the biggest gusts of wind, and settling at its margi
ns in any available lee, building new flawless curving drifts. The trees at the bottom were white on their windward side and black on the other. From here the river showed black in the middle, and white at its frozen edges. Everything in this monochrome landscape was quiet and motionless, biding its time. No birds flew overhead. No mammals sought shelter behind the leaky hedges. There weren’t even any tracks.
What is it about us humans, Nell thought, that we have to put our stamp on everything? We’re like children who can’t bear to pass a clean blotter in a bank without doodling on it. I suppose it’s the remnants of territoriality? Before we arrived just now, there was this smooth white page of a field, all silent and aloof and complete, and now here we are, a job lot of noise and colour and frivolity, messing up its perfection, making our mark and loving every min –
‘Lean over!’ Rob shouted. ‘We’re going crooked … Yee … OWWW!’ The sledge veered off as it got to the bottom of the slope and ran along parallel to the edge of the wood for twenty yards, before it hit a bump, stopped abruptly, and they both fell off. ‘OW!’ Mock agony. ‘My ribs!’
‘That was brilliant!’ Nell laughed, lying on her back in the snow. ‘More!’
‘Race you to the top,’ Rob challenged, getting to his feet and gathering up a snowball. It hit Nell on the shoulder before she could even begin to retaliate, and when she did, Rob ducked easily and set off uphill with determination. Nell had to run to catch up, and only just prevented herself from grabbing at his hand for a tow. They trudged together towards the top, pausing every so often to catch their breath and look at the view. There was no sign of the sun now. To the north of them the sky was a dark greyish yellow.
‘Looks like more snow,’ Rob said, changing hands on the sledge rope. He put the other arm round Nell’s shoulders, pretending to lean on her for support. She stood next to him breathing hard and not wanting to catch his eye, in case he realised what he was doing, and stopped. ‘Hope so,’ she said. ‘I’d like to be well and truly snowed in.’
‘On up?’ He took his arm away.
‘Yes.’
After that first time, their ascents of the hill became slower and slower, and each time they stopped longer for breathers.
‘I just love it here,’ Nell said. ‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’
‘Me too.’
‘Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t think.’
‘It’s OK. I’m here now.’
‘I don’t know about you,’ Nell said, ‘but I’m starving. Do you fancy some tea?’
‘Rob looked at his watch. ‘It’s three thirty! I’d no idea. It’ll be getting dark any minute!’
‘Not knowing the time makes me feel marvellously irresponsible,’ Nell said happily.
‘Do you know R. K. Narayan’s description of childhood? That reminds me of it.’
‘No. Tell me.’
‘He said it was “Letting the day pass without counting the hours”.’
‘I like that,’ Nell said. ‘Great to be able to live that way.’
‘Maybe it’ll be possible at sixty-five,’ Rob said. ‘You know it’s always struck me as odd, that old tradition of ours for presenting people with gold watches when they retire. Wouldn’t you suppose that must be the one and only time in their lives when it’s precisely what they don’t need?’
Nell laughed. It’s no use, she thought. I like the way his mind works. I like the things he says. I like him.
‘I suppose I’d best be off,’ Rob said. ‘I only hope the snow lasts until next weekend, or Josh will kill me.’
‘You’ve been able to see them both while Cassie’s away, then?’
‘Only with difficulty. The “friend” and I don’t exactly hit it off, so it’s been a bit of a battle. I meant to get here earlier and take them both out sledging today – another black mark, I’m afraid.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Not your fault. It was good fun, wasn’t it?’
It began to snow as they walked towards the lower gate, and back along the river path to Bottom Cottage.
‘No tea?’ Nell asked.
‘No, really. I ought to be going.’
‘I hope you’ll get back up the lane OK.’
‘Four-wheel drive. No sweat.’
‘Bye, then.’
He took her mittened hand and squeezed it between both of his own. ‘Thanks, Nell. I haven’t had such a good shout for ages.’
He set off in low gear, waving from the open window. Nell waved back, and then rushed indoors to keep warm. The snow was falling more thickly by now. She drank tea and watched the wintry scene from her window, and then suddenly remembered her Sunday paper. I’d better collect it today, before it gets dark, she thought, just in case they’ve forgotten to close the door of the box again; I don’t fancy another pile of soggy newsprint.
As she left the cottage, she heard the unmistakable but distant sound of a vehicle revving hard and going nowhere. Someone’s stuck, she thought. Surely not Rob?’
But halfway up the lane she came upon his Land Rover. It looked as though it had ploughed into a snowdrift, and then slipped backwards and sideways into the ditch, where it now lay with one of its wheels in the air. The trampled and scraped snow all around it bore witness to Rob’s unsuccessful efforts to extricate it. It appeared derelict and decidedly embarrassed. Nell patted its bonnet consolingly, looking round for its owner, but there was no sign of him.
When she got to the top, she found him standing by the road, stamping his feet. He smiled sheepishly when he saw her.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I was just debating whether to try to hitch a lift, or walk along to Home Farm and ask Tom if I could kip for the night on their floor.’ His hat, shoulders and eyebrows had collected enough snow for an avalanche, Nell noticed, trying not to laugh.
‘I came up for my paper,’ she said, explaining herself. ‘How did it happen?’ She wiped her eyes with the backs of her mittens.
‘God knows! I’ve been up and down here in all weathers and never ended up helpless in the ditch before. I think the truth is, we’ve not had this much snow in the past decade. I’m just not accustomed to it.’
‘Well, there’s no point hanging around here,’ Nell said. ‘There may not be any more passing traffic tonight. And anyway, it’s freezing.’
Rob nodded. ‘I don’t particularly want to bother Tom either; not now his wife’s in hospital…’
‘Oh dear,’ Nell said, po-faced. ‘You’re in trouble then.’ She went across to her box and extracted the bulky newspaper, stuffing it under her coat. ‘I’m afraid I can see only one possible solution to your particular problem.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘You’ve no other choice.’ Nell smiled wickedly. ‘You’ll just have to swallow your pride, or whatever, and come back down and stay with me.’
Chapter Thirteen
‘Tell me about your wife,’ Elly said. She was lying in Malachy’s four-poster bed with her face against his chest, and playing idly with his fuzz of hair, twisting it into little spirals with her fingers. He shifted the arm under her head, slightly, an unconsciously dismissive action.
‘What about her?’
‘Everything. How long were you married?’
‘Ten years, thereabouts.’
‘And were you happy?’
Malachy kept his eyes closed. ‘All happy families resemble one another, but each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way,’ he quoted. ‘Have you read Anna Karenina?’
‘Don’t change the subject!’ She tried to tickle him, but he lay there, controlled, unmoving. ‘Don’t you want to tell me about her?’
‘It’s old history,’ Malachy said. ‘We were very young. We met and fell in love, and then she died. A tragedy for me, of course, but a common enough occurrence in this life, I suppose.’ He raised his head to look at her. ‘What about that massage you promised me, or have I already worn you out?’ The blue eyes challenged her.
‘Turn over then,’ she said, pushing back
the duvet and waiting as he rolled on to his front, resting his head on his crossed arms. Then she sat astride him, and squeezed his hips between her thighs. He had nice slim hips for a middle-aged man.
‘How old are you?’ she asked him, pressing the muscles of his shoulders in firm circular movements.
‘Fifty-five. Why?’ His voice was muffled.
‘No particular reason. So there’s twenty-three years between us. It seems nothing at this age, does it? But in twenty-three years from now, my Will and Sam will be thirty-one and twenty-nine, and that seems unimaginable.’
‘Mmm. Don’t stop. That feels marvellous.’
She worked her way down his back, pummelling him. His skin was still a little tanned from the summer before – or maybe from a sunlamp? His generation had no sense! She felt superior and loving all at once, and leaning forward, kissed each shoulder blade in turn.
‘Is it strange to have a grown-up son?’
‘Not really. It just happens.’
Elly was progressing downwards, shuffling herself backwards along his legs as she went. ‘Rob’s not a bit like you to look at. Is he at all like you in character?’
‘No. He takes after his mother.’
‘Do I sense some disappointment there?’
Malachy just grunted.
‘You’re not very forthcoming today,’ Elly complained. She leant forwards and blew two raspberries on the soft cheeks of his bottom. They made satisfactorily rude noises. Malachy smiled, turning his head sideways and squinting at her.
Then he closed his eyes again. ‘Keep going. That’s heaven.’
Elly stroked his back up and down lightly with smooth delicate hands, and then massaged it hard again, making him groan with pleasure. She thought, This may look one-sided, with me doing all the giving, but in fact it isn’t. Being a good receiver is just as necessary, and Malachy receives like no one else I’ve ever known … She leant forward again and caressed his back up and down with her pendent breasts, hardening her nipples with the gentle friction. Then she collapsed onto him with her full weight and took the lobe of his right ear in her mouth, nibbling it.
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