The Steps up the Chimney

by William Corlett

  4

  The Snow

  MARY WOKE WITH a start. The room was unfamiliar and it took her a moment to remember where she was. The light was very bright. She sat up and, as the bed covers fell from her shoulders, she shivered. It was terribly cold. Then she saw Alice kneeling at the window, covered by an eiderdown.

  ‘Alice? What are you doing? You’ll freeze to death.’

  Her younger sister looked round at her and smiled.

  ‘Come and see,’ she whispered, beckoning her to the window.

  Mary pulled her eiderdown off the bed to cover herself and skipped across the cold floor to the window.

  Outside the window a pale lemon-coloured sun shone from a hazy sky. All the land beneath it was white. The sloping tiles were white. The trees were white. Long icicles hung from the gutter at the side of the window, glittering in the light, and a gentle breeze blew fine white clouds across the surface of the roof.

  ‘Snow,’ Mary whispered.

  ‘Isn’t it beautiful, Mare?’ Alice murmured.

  ‘It’s cold,’ Mary said, scuttling back to the warmth of her bed.

  ‘I’m going to see if William’s awake,’ Alice said and she ran from the room.

  But William was not only asleep, he was also reluctant to be woken. Alice shook him a few times and tried to excite him with the prospect of the snow. But he only told her to: ‘Gerroff, Alice!’ and put his head under the covers.

  Disappointed, she returned to her room and finding Mary also snuggled up and with her eyes closed she went and stared glumly out of the window again.

  The whiteness of the view was almost blinding and Alice had to wrinkle up the corners of her eyes to shut out some of the dazzle. Her breath had steamed up the window. She rubbed at it with the palm of her hand, clearing a small patch. As she did so, a movement in the trees at the edge of the drive, part of which was just visible to her, attracted her attention. Kneeling up and craning sideways Alice could see a set of footprints in the deep snow. They led from the drive into the wood and then disappeared from view. Although she couldn’t now see who had made them, she was certain that whoever it was had been there a moment before.

  ‘Mary,’ she said, ‘there’s someone out there.’

  But Mary was asleep. With an impatient shrug, Alice started to dress. She pulled on her jeans and a thick jumper, a pair of socks and a knitted hat. She couldn’t find her gloves and she realized that she hadn’t brought her wellingtons, but her trainers were under the bed where she had left them the night before. Picking them up, she ran quickly out of the room and down the spiral staircase.

  The hall was in gloomy shadows. Alice paused briefly to put on her shoes, then she crossed to open the great oak front door. It was locked, but the key was still there. It took all her strength and both her hands to turn it and even then the door wouldn’t budge. She realized that it was bolted, top and bottom. The bottom bolt was easy enough for her to deal with. But in order to reach the top one, she had to drag a wooden chair across to stand on. Eventually, the door was unlocked and, tugging at it while turning the iron handle, Alice swung it open and stepped out into the frosty, sparkling air.

  It was a silent, crisp world she entered. Her breath smoked in front of her and the cold tingled her cheeks. The snow stretched in a perfect, unblemished carpet as far as the edge of the wood. The drive led off to the right and, at a distance along it, she could just see the dark patches of the footprints that she had first noticed from the bedroom window.

  Stepping out of the porch, Alice placed her foot lightly on the surface of the snow. It squeaked as her weight sank into it. Then she took another step, followed by another and then another. Each time her foot made the same crunching, squeaking sound as the fresh snow was broken. It was like being an explorer in an unknown land, or the first astronaut setting foot on the moon. Each step was so entirely new.

  When she reached the place where the footprints left the drive she paused. For the first time she wondered who it could be who had made them. And then it occurred to her that whoever it was hadn’t come from the direction of the house. Perhaps vaguely she’d thought that it could have been Uncle Jack, out for an early walk, but now that she was down at ground level, she could see quite clearly that the trail of prints came from along the drive in the opposite direction. This fact struck her as somehow odd and made her hesitate before dashing off in pursuit of the unknown person. She stood on the edge of the drive, scanning the dense trees, hoping that she could perhaps see something without having to venture too far into the woods. The silence was immense. The snow muffled everything. Even her own breathing sounded removed and distant.

  ‘Hello,’ she called, in a small voice. ‘Hello. Anybody there?’ But no answering sound or call came back to her. Lifting her foot, she placed it in the footprint in front of her. It was bigger than hers and the stretch to the next step was far greater than she could manage comfortably.

  ‘Hello,’ she called again. She reached forward and placed her second foot in the next printmark. Her stride was now so long that she nearly fell over trying to lift her first foot out of the snow. ‘Oh, this is silly!’ she said out loud, and she ran quickly towards the wood, following the footprints.

  The wind had blown the snow in a slant under the trees and it was possible to follow the prints for quite a distance. They went in a more-or-less straight line, dodging round trees and following a steep uphill course until they reached an open clearing.

  Halfway across this clearing, to Alice’s surprise, they came to an abrupt end. For half the length of the clearing, there were distinct footprints and then . . . they disappeared. Alice stood at the spot where they vanished and stared at the snow. It wasn’t possible. Where had they gone? She searched the ground ahead to see if in some way they had been obliterated and were once more in evidence further on. But there was no more sign of them. In fact a little further across the clearing the snow was all disturbed, as though an animal had been there, and also there were a lot of bird prints, but the human footsteps came to an abrupt end.

  As the significance of this discovery slowly dawned on her, Alice looked round nervously. Below her the trees grew so close together that she could see neither the house nor the drive. In fact she’d climbed so high that she was able to look across the valley to its other side. There the trees were less snow covered. They stood, gaunt and dark against the white land, like a charcoal drawing. Above and beyond them, the vague outline of higher mountains blended into the thin haze. A wind was blowing, bringing dark clouds that rolled in over the valley and across the sky until the sun was hidden. It suddenly turned much colder. Then, somewhere near to her an animal howled. The sound, long and echoing, was strange and ghostly.

  Alice at once turned and started to run as fast as she could back down the slope in the direction of the drive. She willed herself not to turn round, convinced that whatever the animal, be it wolf or mad dog or who knew what other frightening creature, it was just behind her and at any minute would pounce on her, tearing at her skin with its claws and snapping with its teeth.

  She reached the tree line and slid and slipped her way down through the wood, then, just as she caught sight of the driveway, her foot went under a root and she tripped and fell headlong down the last bit of the hill and rolled out on to the thick snow at the bottom.

  She lay, panting and dazed. But a moment later it seemed as though her fears were justified. A big black and white dog bounded out of the trees and raced round her, barking and jumping. Alice remained crouched on the ground, trembling with fear. But the dog didn’t attack her. It kept springing round her, tail wagging, front paws burrowing into the snow, tongue licking the air.

  ‘Good dog,’ Alice whispered, uncertainly, trying to be brave.

  At the sound of her voice the dog whimpered delightedly, and dodged forward, snapping at the air. Then, sitting on the snow in front of her, it raised a paw, as if wanting to shake hands.

  ‘Good dog,’ Alice said again, t
his time a little louder. And she also held out her hand to let the animal have a sniff.

  The dog licked her hand and scrambled forward, whimpering excitedly. Alice stood up. The dog also rose and stood beside her, looking up at her, as if waiting for a command.

  ‘I’ve got to go home now,’ she said and she started to run towards the house. When she reached the porch, she looked back. The dog was still standing where she had left it, one paw raised off the ground, its head erect, watching her.

  ‘Goodbye,’ she called and at once the dog turned and raced off up the steep side of the valley into the trees.

  ‘Alice, where have you been? We’ve been searching everywhere,’ William said as she entered the hall. He was halfway down the stairs and looked as if he was going to be cross.

  ‘Oh, Will,’ Alice said and she ran to him and put her arms round him.

  ‘Get off,’ he said. ‘You’re soaking. What have you been doing?’

  ‘I went out in the snow,’ she said and hurried past him up the stairs.

  ‘Now where are you going?’

  ‘To change,’ she replied in a sulky voice. ‘You just said I’m soaking.’

  ‘Well hurry up. Breakfast’s ready – and don’t you dare ask for bacon!’ he said threateningly, as he went down the last of the stairs and towards the kitchen door.

  ‘Will,’ Alice called, stopping at the gallery and leaning over the banister.

  ‘What?’ William asked, stopping also and looking up at her.

  ‘There’s something ever so strange about this place,’ she said.

  ‘I know,’ William said, quietly.

  ‘You think so too?’ Alice said, surprised by his agreement.

  ‘We’ll have a conference after breakfast,’ he said and went through the kitchen door.

  5

  The Conference

  ‘WELL, I THINK you’re making a lot of fuss about nothing,’ Mary said, staring at herself in the mirror and brushing her hair over her forehead to see if a fringe suited her.

  ‘Just because nothing’s happened to you yet,’ William said. ‘Honestly, Mary. You’re impossible sometimes. And stop staring at yourself in the mirror. It’s vain.’

  ‘I’m doing my hair. And anyway I’m so beautiful I can’t stop looking at myself!’ She grinned and stuck her tongue out at her brother and sister.

  They were in the girls’ room having the conference that William had suggested before breakfast. It was now the middle of the morning, but it was so dark in the room that the bedside lamps were switched on. Outside, the sky was covered with cloud, as more snow threatened.

  ‘Anyway,’ Alice protested, ‘I could take you to where the footprints disappear. I could show you.’

  ‘So?’ Mary said. ‘It doesn’t prove anything. There could have been an avalanche that covered the rest of them . . .’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Mary. We’re not in Switzerland.’

  ‘Well, there’s snow, isn’t there? And Alice said it was steep. The snow could have slid . . . that’s all an avalanche is.’

  ‘But it didn’t, Mary. It was all smooth. Oh, please let me show you . . .’

  ‘I believe you, Alice,’ William said, getting up and crossing to the window. ‘But, if we don’t go soon, the footprints will have disappeared. It’s going to snow again.’

  ‘And then there was the dog,’ Alice continued, pulling on her shoes. ‘Ugh! They’re wet.’

  ‘But what’s so special about a dog in the middle of the country? It could belong to anyone.’

  ‘But it was . . . I don’t know how to explain . . . it was like it knew me already.’

  ‘Oh, honestly,’ Mary said and, crossing to the wardrobe, she took out a red dress on a hanger and crossed to hang it from a beam in front of the window.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ William asked her, despairingly.

  ‘It got creased in my case. I want to wear it at Christmas, if you must know,’ Mary told him.

  ‘But why are you hanging it there?’

  ‘To air it.’

  William and Alice exchanged a pitying look and William tapped his forehead.

  ‘D’you think there’s any hope for her, Will?’ Alice asked in a hushed voice.

  William shook his head, gravely.

  ‘She’ll definitely have to be put in the loony bin. Poor thing.’

  ‘Poor thing,’ Alice echoed and she sobbed dramatically.

  ‘Oh, shut up, both of you.’ Mary was losing her temper. ‘If you think I’m loony, what about you two? Alice with disappearing footsteps and you, Will, with a disappearing man.’

  ‘And the fox, Mary,’ William shouted back, losing his temper.

  ‘You saw a fox, so what’s so special about that?’

  ‘It looked at me. And the owl did. They looked at me, Mary,’ then he lowered his voice to a hushed whisper, ‘as if they were expecting me.’

  ‘And my dog did,’ Alice chimed in, not wanting to be left out of the story.

  The three children looked at each other in silence for a moment.

  ‘But, what could it mean?’ Mary asked. ‘Why do all the animals look at you and who was the man?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ William said, quietly, ‘but I’ll tell you something. If he’d got on to the train at the station, I’d have heard the door slam. And I didn’t, I know I didn’t. And, if he disappeared there, then – why couldn’t he do it again? Out there in the snow this morning.’

  ‘Oh, Will,’ Mary said in a whisper, ‘it isn’t going to be frightening, is it?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ her brother replied. ‘They all seemed friendly . . .’

  ‘Who all?’ Mary cut in, nervously.

  ‘The fox and the owl . . .’

  ‘And my dog was very friendly,’ Alice added, eagerly.

  ‘And the man?’ Mary asked, looking back at William.

  ‘He was quite friendly,’ William replied after a moment’s thought. ‘But he was a bit sort of . . . stern, as well. Like a . . . teacher . . . you know? He sort of stared at me . . .’

  ‘But that’s what you said the fox did.’

  ‘It was the same. Exactly the same.’

  They lapsed into silence again, all of them deep in thought and that was how Phoebe found them when she came into the room.

  ‘Oh, what a fright you gave me,’ she exclaimed. ‘I thought you must have gone out. It was so quiet up here. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes thank you, Phoebe.’ William answered for all of them.

  ‘Jack’s going into the town. You can go with him, if you like. I’ve made some hot chocolate. Come on down. It’s much warmer in the kitchen.’

  ‘Phoebe,’ Alice asked her, as she was about to leave the room. ‘Is there a big black and white dog that lives somewhere around here?’

  ‘You’ve seen him?’ Phoebe asked her, surprised. ‘Jack says I made him up. I’ve seen him often. I don’t know where he comes from.’

  ‘Maybe he lives here,’ William said, on an impulse.

  ‘Well, he’d be very welcome, but he won’t ever come in. I’ve tried to persuade him. I worry about him, if he’s a stray, particularly in this weather.’

  ‘Would it be all right if I brought him in?’ Alice asked her. ‘He seems to like me.’

  ‘You’ll have to persuade Jack first. He says he doesn’t want any animals in the house until he’s finished doing all the repair work. And of course, with the baby coming . . . But I’d like an animal here. Particularly when Jack goes away.’

  ‘D’you get scared here?’ Alice asked her, her eyes wide.

  Phoebe looked at her thoughtfully for a moment.

  ‘I don’t think the house has accepted us yet,’ she replied in a grave tone. ‘But I’m sure it will.’ Then she smiled. ‘I expect you’ll all help. I think houses like young people. And this one has been empty for such a long time, and before that it was old people who lived here.’

  ‘Did they die here?’ Mary asked, fearfully.

/>   ‘I expect so,’ Phoebe replied, brightly. ‘But there’s nothing frightening about that. Death is a natural end to life, that’s all. It isn’t frightening. Come on. If we stand here talking, the hot chocolate will be cold chocolate!’

  She went out of the room.

  ‘I don’t want to go into the town, William,’ Mary whispered. ‘I want to stay here and see the footprints.’

  ‘You believe me,’ Alice whispered gladly.

  Mary nodded solemnly.

  ‘What changed your mind?’ Alice whispered.

  Mary shrugged and frowned.

  ‘The way Phoebe spoke. I think she knows something too.’

  ‘What d’you mean, Mare?’ William asked.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.’

  Jack set off for the town after they’d all had hot chocolate and biscuits together in the kitchen.

  ‘As much as anything, I want to see the state of the road,’ he explained.

  ‘You’re sure you don’t need anything?’ Phoebe asked the children. ‘This will be the last chance before Christmas.’

  But they had done their Christmas shopping. With their parents away in Africa, parcels had had to be sent well in advance and Mary had been commissioned to buy Jack and Phoebe a box of chocolates from them all. They’d all, of course, bought presents for each other.

  ‘What size shoes do you all take?’ Jack asked, as he was getting into the Land-Rover. ‘I’d better get you some wellingtons. If this snow keeps up, you’re going to need them.’

  He drove slowly away from them down the drive, the wheels cutting deep brown furrows in the snow.

  ‘Come on,’ William said, once the Land-Rover was out of sight, ‘take us to see those tracks now, Alice. If we wait any longer the snow really will come down. We’re going for a walk, Phoebe, is that all right?’ he called through the kitchen door.