Authors: Alison Littlewood
When he opened the door, Bert’s face was red. ‘Just coming,’ he said. ‘Ah, it’s you, love.’
He ushered Cass into a narrow hall. Just behind him was a steep staircase with a patterned carpet worn down at the centre of each tread. Bert stood back against the
wall, letting Cass go first, and she squeezed past. She looked up to see a single wall light illuminating a ring of yellowed wallpaper.
‘Go on in, go on in,’ Bert said, pushing the door closed until it latched.
Cass went up and paused on the landing. A sketch portrait of a woman looked down at her from an oval frame. The lady wore a long dress and a shy smile. Bert’s wife? Cass had never imagined him as anything but alone, just him and his dog – and now Captain stuck a salt-and-pepper muzzle around a doorframe and regarded her.
‘Hello, Captain,’ Cass said. She didn’t go any closer. ‘It’s only me.’
‘’e’s harmless.’ Bert spoke at her back and Cass jumped. ‘Just an old un.’
Captain withdrew as Bert gestured towards the doorway and as Cass went in, the dog eased down onto a faded jacket lying on the floor. There were green chairs adorned with antimacassars, dark wooden furniture, and photographs everywhere: children of various ages, the same woman Cass had seen before.
‘Enid,’ said Bert, following her gaze. ‘Been gone a long time now. And the young uns.’
Cass didn’t ask whose ‘young uns’. She wondered how often they visited.
Captain let out a loud sigh.
‘I know you said—’
‘Aye, love. If you want I can phone someone for you, come back with one of they quads or some such thing. Or ’appen I’ll get someone to come and get you.’
Cass paused. She looked at him and down at the dog. She bit her lip. ‘You know, it’s very kind of you. But I don’t think you should go.’
‘No?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Why not?’
‘It’s just, it’s such a long way. It might be too much, and— Well.’
Bert let out a bray of laughter. ‘You don’t think I’m up to it.’ The laugh turned into a wheeze and he slapped his leg as he dropped into a chair, gesturing to Cass to take the one opposite. ‘That’s it, in’t it?’
‘It’ll be really hard work in the snow. I’m not sure about Captain, that’s all. He looks tired.’
Bert grew serious. ‘I know, love, an’ he is: ’im and me both. But I’ve been walking they paths in these parts since I were a lad, an’ that’s saying something.’
‘But—’
‘I’m no lad any more, I know it. Listen, love, I walk every day, no less, and so does Captain. An’ it’ll be a tough un, I’m not saying it won’t. But I’ll tek me time, and once I’m on t’ road, it’ll be all reet. You’ll see.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘It’s nine mile, more or less. I’ll be tired at t’other end, but once I’m up top, it’s all downhill an’ I’ll be reet. Now, what I can do for you?’ He looked at her. ‘I’m going, love, with or without any messages you want to give me, so you might as well come out with it.’
Cass fumbled in her bag and brought out an envelope. ‘I really need to get this to someone. If you wouldn’t mind posting it in Moorfoot, I’d appreciate it.’
Bert took the padded envelope, looked at the address.
‘It’s for work. I have to get those files to my client or I could lose him. I don’t have any stamps, but I can give you the money.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Well, yes, but it’s—’
‘You don’t get it,’ he said. ‘You don’t get it at all.’
‘What?’
‘Is there nothing else?’ The accent seemed to fall away, his voice becoming clipped. ‘No message I can take for you? No one I can call?’
Cass thought of her father and shifted in her seat. Perhaps she would write to him, but not now; she could do it when this was over, the snow thawed. Then she could go and see him, or maybe he could visit her in Darnshaw.
She thought of her father looking up at the church, awe and something deeper written on his face.
‘No, Bert, there’s nothing. It would be great if you could do that for me, but I’d understand if you didn’t want to go. I’ll work it out somehow.’
Bert folded the envelope and stuffed it in his pocket. ‘I’ll tek it for you, love. I hope it all works out, that’s all.’
‘It’s kind of you.’
‘Just one thing,’ he said.
Cass waited.
‘I’m going, like I say, but he’s too old. He’ll not make it o’er t’ tops.’
It took her a moment to realise he meant Captain.
‘I need to leave him at ’ome. I can leave him ’ere, but – well, I wondered if you might tek him.’
Cass’ mouth fell open.
‘He’s not used to being on his own.’
‘Bert, I’m really sorry – I know you’re helping me, and I’d like to help you in return, but I have to think of Ben. Captain went for him the other day. I just can’t take the risk.’
‘No, no.’ Bert hung his head. ‘I’d forgot that. It’s not like him, you see. But no, it’s all reet. He’ll be fine here, will Captain.’
The dog’s ears twitched at the mention of his name.
‘He’ll probably be glad of the rest, wi’out me dragging him all ower.’
‘I wish I could.’
‘I know, love, no, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked. Just a thought, tha’s all. Don’t you go minding about it. We’ll be fine, me an’ Captain.’
They walked back down the stairs in silence, Bert hanging onto the rail. He rattled the door open and looked up at the sky. ‘No let-up yet,’ he said as fine flakes drifted down. ‘No, I’d best be off soon. I can smell it in the air, can’t you?’
Cass sniffed and looked about. When she looked back at Bert he was smiling at her.
‘Take care o’ that lad o’ yours,’ he said, as he closed the door.
Cass watched the snowflakes falling outside her window. They were thicker now, heavier. She imagined Bert huddled in his coat, bent into the wind, going up the hill one slow step at a time, and Captain, whining at home for his master.
She shouldn’t have let him go.
But he was probably well on his way to town, already looking forward to a drink in the nearest pub. He was used to walking, he knew the land. He knew what he was letting himself in for, and anyway, he’d said he had his own business to settle on the other side of the moors.
Cass had to stop worrying about Bert; there was something she needed to do. She hadn’t been able to put Ben’s drawing out of her mind. It was hard to shake the feeling that her son knew something about his father that she’d never even guessed at, but of course that couldn’t be true. The picture had come from Ben’s imagination, or maybe something he’d seen in his game or on television.
Pete’s letters were in Cass’ mind all the same. It was time to sort through them. To try and gain some clue as to the person her husband might have become.
Then to get rid of them, move on.
The bundle looked so small once she held it in the daylight. Such a little thing to show for their years together: a few observations, impressions of people and places she hadn’t seen and never would. Cass lifted them to her face. A faint dusty smell rose from them, like something already beginning to decay.
She’d tucked Ben’s picture into the box. It wasn’t the image that hurt any more, it was his words:
He sexed her.
Cass pulled open the ribbon and spread the letters on the floor.
I saw a young boy today. He was maybe five or six. He sort of reminded me of Ben, and yet he didn’t. Is that weird? But there was something in his eyes. Knowledge, I suppose. Or the total absence of hope.
It wasn’t till I’d gone past I saw his leg was taken off at the knee.
Cass shook her head. It wasn’t what she was looking for.
When I come home, I’ll bring you the blue stones. The most expensive colour in the world.
I love you, Cass. I always will.
Cass caught her breath, held the letter to her face and closed her eyes, waiting for the tears to come. But they did not. Instead she saw Theo Remick’s eyes, clear and candid, as if everything was straightforward, already decided between them.
She gathered the letters together and stood. She should get rid of them all: a statement, if only to herself, that she was ready to move on.
And yet she turned and threw them back into the box and kicked it under the bed. What if she needed them one day? She might need his voice for company.
And Ben might want to read them when he was older. Of course he would.
Cass poked her foot under the bed, giving the box a last shove. They could stay there. She would leave them in the dark until she had forgotten about them.
TWENTY-ONE
Cass pulled a silk top from the wardrobe and held it against her body. Pete had loved that one. He had made her buy it, though she hadn’t wanted to spend the money. She put it back. Saw a flash of red at the back. Red. It was a little obvious, but did it matter? She was a grown woman with lines in her forehead and a son to collect. No, it didn’t matter. She put it on, seeing the way it made her hair brighter, made her eyes shine.
He sexed her.
Yes, it would do.
She tried not to think of Pete but couldn’t help comparing them in her mind. She knew that Theo would never be loud, never be laddish like Pete. Did she miss that? She pressed her lips together. But wasn’t Theo Remick the sort of man she’d have chosen for herself, before she met her husband?
Cass shook her head, brushed mascara onto her lashes and slicked gloss over her lips. Remembered the feel of
Remick’s lips on her neck. She grabbed her bag and prepared to set out.
The school had already closed. A couple of children lingered, a boy and a girl. They wandered away, their coats bright against the snow.
The corridor was empty. Cass walked down it, her footsteps too loud, her heartbeat too fast. She knocked at Theo’s office.
‘Here,’ he said from behind her. He stood at a classroom door, a gaunt figure. He looked at her with those eyes. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted. And yet he was a stranger, someone she hardly knew.
He reached out, touched her hair and smiled, and didn’t say anything, and that was all right because she could see in his face she did know him after all. He was the one who made her smile, someone her son looked up to, became his old self with.
‘Well, Ms Cassidy.’
‘Well, Mr Remick.’
‘I’m half tempted to kiss you right here, but it would be most unprofessional.’
Cass kept her gaze on him and stepped forward. She pressed her body against his, his thin, tall body and kissed his lips. He pulled away, rested his head against her neck, turning the kiss into a warm hug. ‘I’m glad you came,’ he said. ‘There’s been no one like you here for a very long time.’
She stirred, wondered about his past, and realised she didn’t want to know.
They walked outside together. He locked up, then Cass
took his arm and they started towards the road, sharing the silence. Snow billowed around them, and although the sun had already faded the sky was white except for an orange stain from the streetlights. An icy flake settled on Cass’ lips and she opened her mouth, felt the coldness dissolving on her tongue.
Cass drank and the wine threaded into her. Mr Remick had led her straight to the sofa this time. ‘Talk to me from here,’ he said. ‘This one’s a surprise.’
She’d forgotten how small the room was, but it was warm and inviting; it didn’t have that empty feeling the mill had. Theo lit candles and shadows wavered about his face. Cass sat down and ran her hands over the sofa. The fabric felt clean, new, as though it had never been used. She remembered Bert’s faded living room and smiled, tried not to think of him out walking in the cold.
She took another sip of wine. Bert was no doubt tucked up by some warm hearth by now, enjoying a drink of his own.
She felt Theo’s hand on her shoulder and jumped, splashing wine across her jacket.
‘I didn’t mean to startle you. Here, let me take it.’
Cass set down the glass and slipped off her coat.
He looked at her appreciatively. ‘You look nice.’ Before she could speak he handed her a dish of fat black olives and retreated to the kitchen. They were pungent, salty, bursting on her tongue.
Soon she smelled rich tomatoes, baking cheese. He showed her into the dining room and refilled her glass.
The table was spread with silver, ornate cutlery, and wax dripped from the creamy candles in the gilt candlesticks. They set lights in Theo’s eyes, and Cass wondered if they did the same for her. They ate lasagne, hearty and good, with green salad.
She opened her mouth to compliment him, to ask how he came by the fresh salad leaves, but he raised a hand and stopped her. ‘Shh,’ he said. ‘Don’t talk.’
For the first time Cass didn’t know what to do with the silence between them. She wanted to break it, but Theo shook his head. ‘I know what you’re going to say: you have to go and collect your son – but you don’t need to leave unless you want to, Cass. Sally has offered to let Ben stay. Your son will be fine.’ He moved around the table and touched his finger to her lips, stalling her words. ‘I realise it was presumptuous of her, but she’s more of a friend than you realise, and it gives you a choice. I like you, Cass. I want you to stay with me.’
She stared. His face was serious, his eyes intense. She wanted to say she couldn’t; she had to go, and yet she didn’t speak. An image of Pete came into her mind, and Ben’s drawing. Tears came to her eyes.
He didn’t ask why, didn’t make any comment. He leaned towards Cass and kissed her cheek. His breath was warm. She could put out a hand and touch his chest – and she did, feeling the softness of his sweater. She closed her eyes, parted her lips.
Theo pulled away. ‘Stay with me,’ he said.
She nodded and he drew her up. She kissed him, harder this time, and he moved her back against the wall, pressing
against her. Cass’ hands were on the back of his head, caught in the short softness of his hair. His lips met hers once more, hungry, firing energy through her.
‘Come upstairs,’ he whispered and caught her hand, leading her out of the room and up a dark stairway. He didn’t switch on the light.