The Boy Made of Snow

by Chloe Mayer

The butter was gone.

  I had to use a ladle now to reach down to the snow as it sank away from the bathroom window. I was worried about what to do when I could no longer reach it. I knew I wouldn’t have the strength to smash a downstairs window. Idly, I thought about using string to lash the ladle to a broom handle but it seemed complicated. My dreams were strange and dark and the monsters were there and I woke up thirsty.

  Noises and banging. Silence. Noises and banging.

  I pulled down the covers of my cocoon and listened. They were the noises of my dream; I snuggled back down. Rustling and shuffling sounds. Again, I pulled off the eiderdowns and blankets that covered my face so I could hear better. It seemed too much effort to sit up but I turned slightly so I could look towards the window.

  Something black slammed into the glass through the snow, making me jump. The black thing moved from side to side in a big arc. Some light came in. The black thing was a gloved hand. The snow muffled the words, but I could hear voices. Suddenly I was looking across the room, through the window, into somebody’s eyes. A pulled-up collar, and a pulled-down hat, meant that was all I could see of their face. The first face I’d seen for weeks.

  The gloved hand knocked on the glass. The face shouted something. I thought I should say something back, but the shock of it, the tiredness, the cold – all of it seemed to weigh down heavy on me, making it hard to move.

  Then there was a crashing noise. Smashing at the front door. So loud. I knew that sound: metal on wood. An axe. Chopping. Hansel?

  It wasn’t Hansel. It was a group of bundled-up men who forced open the sitting-room door when the towel twisted on the carpet briefly stopped its path.

  ‘Not another one?’ someone said, as they came in.

  A sad sigh. ‘Looks like it.’ A man walked over to me and our eyes locked as he crossed the room. ‘Christ, he’s alive – check the rest of the house!’ He rushed towards me. ‘All right there, son? You all right?’ His arm lifted me up. ‘Easy does it. You’re all right now.’ He looked around and saw a bowl with a little water in it, and brought it to my mouth so I could drink.

  ‘Who else is here, son?’ he said.

  I tried to shake my head.

  The others filed back into the room as the man slid his other arm beneath my legs and picked me up. ‘Easy does it,’ he said again.

  ‘Empty,’ a voice said. I recognised the voice as Mr Higgins and I shuddered. This was the old Home Guard. ‘No one else here. Place looks like a bomb’s gone off in every room.’

  ‘Christ. Have you been on your own this whole time, lad? How old are you?’ I wanted to ask where my mother was, but had to close my eyes. He gave me a sort of squeeze. ‘You’ll be in a nice warm bed soon – in hospital. They’ve been out ploughing the roads so we’ll get there all right.’

  My eyes fluttered open again as he carried me through the hall, past the jagged shards of the front door, and out into the street. The bright white light bouncing off the snow and sky hurt my eyes.

  Some other people were standing around. I recognised a couple of neighbours, who came to stare at me as I was helped into the passenger seat of a car. An old lady was lying in the back. I couldn’t tell if she was dead.

  ‘We’ve just a few more houses to check on this street and then I can take you both to Densford Hospital,’ the man said, and shut the door.

  I closed my eyes again.

  ‘People have died,’ the old lady said. ‘The Home Guard told me. They’ve found them. Dead, in some of the houses.’

  She started to cry. I didn’t open my eyes.

  ‘Goodness, you’re so thin!’ Granny said when she saw me. I’d forgotten a nurse had asked me for my grandparents’ telephone number and hadn’t realised they’d be coming until I saw them marching up the ward.

  She sat on the starched white bed and I could smell lavender as she pulled me close. I tried to pull back, but she wouldn’t let me, and then I stopped trying because it felt so nice to be squeezed by a warm person.

  ‘You need fattening up,’ she said softly, into my hair. Another hand began rhythmically tapping at my back and it was Grandpa, standing by the side of us.

  ‘Brave lad,’ he said. ‘You’re a good boy.’

  I’d been asking all the doctors and nurses about Mother, but somebody must have already explained to my grandparents that she hadn’t come home after her walk and there was still no news of her, because they didn’t ask me any questions about where she was, even when they drove me back to the cottage to pack some things. They said I’d be staying with them in Great Yarmouth for a while.

  The front door was boarded up with wood, so we walked around to get in at the back. The snow was still deep, but nowhere near as bad as it had been.

  Granny gasped as I led them through the house on the way to my room. But she just smiled at me when I turned to look back at her, although Grandpa was pressing his lips together.

  ‘It’s a bit messy,’ I said.

  ‘Can’t be helped,’ Granny replied. ‘Now, you get your clothes together. Grandpa will help you. I’m just going to check all the rooms and, er, see what needs doing.’

  When she came back, she told Grandpa he’d probably want to have a look around because there were some odd jobs that he’d need to do.

  ‘I had to break the bathroom window,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll have a look,’ he said.

  Granny came over to look at the pile of clothes on my bed.

  ‘Don’t forget to look in Annabel’s bedroom,’ she said to Grandpa as he went out onto the landing, ‘and the sitting room. There’s, er, something you should take outside.’

  I remembered the bucket filled with pee, and felt my face burning red with shame.

  ‘Oh, I need to—’

  ‘It’s all right, Daniel, let Grandpa do it.’ She sat down on my bed and began to fold my clothes. She looked at me but I went over to the window so I didn’t have to see her face. ‘You were a very clever boy,’ she said. ‘Very clever.’

  Then I heard her tut.

  ‘Daniel, these jumpers are far too small for you – even skinny as you are. And these trousers are no good either.’ I heard her stand up. ‘Come on, let’s just go. Let’s go and have lunch in the pub. We’ll get you some new things in Great Yarmouth.’

  So we went to the Royal Oak and all ordered shepherd’s pie and, while we were waiting for it to come, it suddenly occurred to me that if Mother hadn’t left when she did, there probably wouldn’t have been enough food for us both to survive. I decided to ask about her.

  ‘Have they checked all the houses yet? You know, for Mother?’

  ‘Um, I’m not sure, dear,’ Granny said. ‘I know everyone is looking for her, though.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll find her soon,’ Grandpa said. ‘But … you might need to prepare yourself—’

  ‘Grandpa’s right. They’ll find her. So there’s no point worrying about any of that yet. Let’s just concentrate on feeding you up, shall we?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Good. Because Daddy won’t want to see you looking skinny as a rake! Not long now until the roads will be clear enough to go and get him. Won’t it be wonderful to have him home?’

  She looked at me strangely when I didn’t answer.

  ‘Daniel? You knew about that, didn’t you? Did Mother get a chance to tell you before she … Anyway, Daddy’s well enough to come home now.’

  ‘I knew he was getting better.’

  ‘Yes, he’s much, much better. And as soon as the roads are clear enough, we’ll all go and fetch him from the clinic. Isn’t that wonderful?’ She seemed to think for a moment. ‘You and Daddy can both stay with us in Great Yarmouth for a little while. Then Grandpa and I can get your cottage shipshape for you, and you can both go home when it’s ready.’

  Was he really better? I wanted to ask if it was my daddy who was coming home, or the man with the shaking hands. But then the food came and I forgot to worry about it.

  Daddy
was like Daddy, in the end. But a sort of thinner, quieter version. I realised he might be thinking the same thing about me. We were both different now.

  But he’d laughed and picked me up – right in the clinic foyer – when we walked in, even though I was furious and embarrassed and hissed ‘I’m twelve!’ at him. Secretly though, I liked it. Because I knew it meant he was back. When he shook Grandpa’s hand, I noticed his own didn’t tremble any more, and he kissed Granny’s cheek and gave her a long hug and said he couldn’t wait to come home.

  We stayed with them for weeks. Daddy began to seem more and more like himself and I remembered more about him the longer he was back. It was funny how I’d forgotten little things, like how much we enjoyed arm wrestling together. We were both getting stronger in those games now, as Granny fed us up. Once, as I watched him across the dinner table, I realised he wasn’t really a warrior, like I used to believe – at least, not in the way I used to think – he was just a man. He was my father. And I was so glad I was his son.

  Harry, the boy who lived next door, came to knock for me after his mother bumped into Grandpa, who told her I was visiting. Granny sent him away, telling him I’d nearly died after fending for myself in the snow. After that he knocked every day, and when Granny finally decided I was well enough to play out, Harry kept telling me I was a hero.

  Eventually, Daddy said it was time for us to go back to Bambury. Harry and I swapped addresses so we could be pen-pals. I felt sad to be leaving, but thought we should probably get back to the village, so Mother knew where to find us.

  There was a new red front door on the cottage, and the inside was clean and tidy. It was strange to be returning home, to be walking into a house without Mother, but with Daddy instead.

  He said I still wasn’t quite strong enough to go back to school yet, even though it was March and the snow had nearly all gone.

  ‘Another couple of days,’ he said. ‘Get your strength back.’

  I was relieved because I thought I needed quite a lot of strength before I could face the boys at school.

  So I was home when there was a knock on the new door, and when I opened it there was a policeman standing on the step. Horrifying images of the dead Troll and poor dead Hansel reared up in my mind, and with a sick lurch of guilt and shame I wondered if I was about to be arrested.

  But he smiled at me politely and said: ‘Hello, son. I think I’m after your father – Mr Patterson?’

  Daddy came out into the hall. He looked at the bobby and then at me.

  ‘Daniel, why don’t you go and put the kettle on and make us all a nice cup of tea?’ He turned back to the policeman, who was taking off his tall helmet, and showed him into the sitting room, shutting the door behind them.

  I always listened at doors, always. But just then, I realised, I didn’t want to. I’d make the tea, like Daddy asked. Because I thought I probably didn’t want to know what the policeman had come to say. And if I made the tea, that was another five minutes, ten maybe, that I could not know.

  And things would be the same in the world for that five minutes, or ten maybe, and Mother was in someone’s house, but had broken her leg, and that person didn’t have a telephone, and Mother had forgotten our number, and had lost her memory but it was just starting to come back, because she’d banged her head in the snow and—

  No more stories. Make the tea. Take it through. Listen to the truth.

  We already knew she had never gone to Farmer Dawson’s. He’d been found alive, but weak, in his farmhouse after the snow started to thaw and he was taken to hospital the day after me. There was no sign of Mother anywhere on the farm or out in the orchard. Farmer Dawson had pneumonia and he died. One of the nurses had told me, when I asked about him. It made me feel guilty to think it, but I felt a horrid flash of relief; one less person who knew what happened that I’d have to see around the village.

  I called out at the sitting-room door so Daddy could open it and let me in. I put down the tray and poured three cups. I forgot to ask the policeman how much milk he liked, and if he took sugar. It didn’t matter because the cups sat untouched, steaming, on the table.

  ‘It’s not good news, I’m afraid, Daniel,’ Daddy said. ‘It’s Mother.’

  He looked at me to make sure I understood what he was saying. He looked sad and tired.

  I wondered if I was supposed to say something, but I didn’t know what to say so I stayed quiet.

  He glanced across at the policeman, who looked down at a small black pad he had clasped in his hands. I think Daddy hoped the policeman would start talking to me instead, but he didn’t, so Daddy cleared his throat and carried on.

  ‘She was … Somebody found her. In the woods.’

  I remembered the magic, the golden light and the fairy dust that I’d once daydreamed into the forest. And then I thought of the darkness in there; the darkness that was real, because I’d really seen it. When Mother disappeared, the woods weren’t magical. They were cold and dark and filled with the dead.

  ‘A man found her. She was lying down. She looked very peaceful.’ He cleared his throat again and looked at the policeman. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh yes. Yes. Very peaceful. Frozen in the snow, just like she was asleep.’ He half lifted his pad, as if to show me. As if that was written down in there.

  ‘She was quite a long way from home,’ Daddy said, after a while. ‘She was very deep in the forest. I suppose she went for a walk, maybe she got lost and sat down – maybe she got tired or confused – but that was the worst thing she could do, of course, because …’

  I nodded. My eyes were dry. Inside my head though, there was a loud, screaming noise, like the kettle boiling.

  I thought of ice crystals forming along her eyelashes. I thought of her lips turning blue. I remembered how I watched Hans kiss those lips for the first time. It was so beautiful.

  ‘Where was she?’ It was hard to believe she hadn’t been found in the orchard. It seemed as though that would make sense.

  ‘Oh, a long way away.’ Daddy sighed, looking at the policeman, who nodded. ‘She was almost on the other side of the woods. Almost at Densford.’

  ‘Oh.’

  I remembered the story she’d told Hansel once. About the time she wanted to get on a train more than anything else in the world. How she’d run away from me when I was a baby in the cottage and begun to make her way to Bambury Station. Well, Bambury’s tiny station had already been closed for days when she left during the snow, but trains were still running from Densford Station then. Was she trying to get there? She might have had some money in her coat pockets. Was she trying to find a train to take her away? Was she going to disappear somewhere, or perhaps head to Liverpool to try to find Hansel? Or was it just meaningless chance she’d been found at that particular spot? Perhaps she’d just been walking mindlessly, not caring where she ended up, because she was planning to head back home. Or was lying down in the snow always part of the plan?

  ‘Do you … do you want to ask anything else, Daniel?’

  I shook my head. I would never know what I wanted to know.

  ‘All right. Well then, the constable’s here from Densford Police Station. He very kindly came to tell us about Mother. It’s nothing to worry about – just a formality – but you were the last person to see her, so he just wants to ask you a couple of questions.’

  Daddy must have seen something wild in my eyes. Because he rushed to reassure me again and the policeman joined in; it was just because he needed to write it in his pad to show the sergeant, that was all. I didn’t want to get him in trouble with his boss, did I?

  But I was thinking how I’d killed Hansel, and how I’d killed the Troll, and now I was wondering if I’d killed Mother, too.

  He asked me about the moments before she left the house, and I told him how I’d helped her open the door; I’d helped her get out. It was a relief to say the words to him.

  The policeman didn’t seem particularly angry about that thou
gh, and he peeled back the black elastic strip that held his pad closed and wrote something down and then thanked me and stood up to leave.

  Daddy followed him into the hall to see him out and I stayed in the armchair I’d once lived in and looked at the three cold cups of tea on the table. I wasn’t sure how I felt. Sad, of course, but no sadder than I’d been before, really.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ I heard the policeman say out in the hallway. ‘I’m, er, so sorry for your loss.’

  ‘Thank you. It is a bit of a shock, but well – I think we were sort of expecting it, to be honest. After all this time.’ I heard the sound of the front door opening. ‘Can I ask? Where is she now?’

  ‘Oh, she’s at the funeral home in Densford, sir. The dog-walker found her early this morning and reported it straight away, so we sent some officers to get her immediately.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Thank you.’

  ‘They got more than they bargained for, actually. Because as they walked through the woods – they were coming from the Densford side – they found a, well, a sort of sinkhole.’

  ‘A sinkhole?’

  ‘Yes, you know, down into one of the old mines, I suppose. You know how people always say it’s dangerous around there? Seems there was something in it, after all. This was about a fifteen-minute, twenty-minute walk from where we found your wife. They had to go all the way back with the stretcher and come back again with ropes so they were all tied together for safety.’

  ‘Oh. Goodness.’

  ‘Yes. They’ve cordoned that whole area off now. To be honest—’ he dropped his voice, ‘it was too late for somebody.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘They looked down into the hole and saw, well, bones. From years ago. You know: a skeleton.’

  My whole body began shaking, as though the winter had returned. I closed my eyes. They’d found him.

  ‘Good lord!’ Daddy said. ‘Well, thanks again for—’

  ‘They reckon they know who it is, too. Or was, I should say.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘That PoW they never found.’ There was a moment of silence. Perhaps Daddy just looked at the constable blankly, or maybe he shook his head to show he didn’t know what the policeman was talking about. ‘There was a PoW who ran away during the war. They looked for him everywhere. Had the Home Guard and us lot out looking for him, out at the stations, checking cars on the roads and all sorts. This explains it. There’ll be a proper investigation – they went back and brought him up earlier this afternoon – but he was wearing a PoW shirt, and no one else has been reported missing in these parts so it must be him.’