Authors: Alison Littlewood
She backed away, shaking her head.
‘Look at him, Cass: so young and yet so troubled. See the shadow in his eyes? That’s no shadow; you know what
that is, Cass? The absence of light. It’s quenched, Cass. Extinguished.
Gone
. And it’ll be gone for ever, for all eternity, unless you say yes. That’s all it takes, Cass. One little word.’ He tilted his head, changed his tone. ‘It was
good
, Cass, wasn’t it? You and me – everything you wanted.’
Except the way her flesh had recoiled from him
.
‘I can give it to you.’ He smiled, and it was
Theo’s
smile, warm, full of comfort. It soothed her. Cass looked away. Her son stood in the light that streamed from the windows and yet his eyes were in shadow, would always be in shadow.
And she was his mother.
Remick reached out, tracing a shape in the air, and she felt his touch, strong, warm, the comfort only a man’s arms could bring.
Safety
. He breathed into her hair, her neck. She moaned.
‘It was
good
, Cass.’ His fingertips caressed her body, so light on her arms, the inside of her wrists, her hips, touching her secret places, lighting sparks inside her, easing into her … filling her. His fingers were cool against her heat.
‘No.’ She opened her eyes. His were blue. Blue.
‘Come to me,’ he said, and held out his arms.
Cass shook her head. Such warmth, such light, it soothed her heart, her soul. She looked down and was troubled by Ben’s eyes. There was something she had to do for him – she had to help him. One simple thing—
‘I’ll give you your life back, Cass.’
Suddenly it all came back to her, everything she had lost.
‘Cassandra.
Gloria
. Come.’
His arms were open and his eyes were warm, welcoming, so full of love, full of promise, everything he could restore. Cass stepped forward before she knew she was going to move. It was such a simple thing, after all, to step forward and let him take this weight from her, the hand that still pressed down upon her head. How it would feel to rest in his arms and let the burden be lifted. He drew her close, smoothed her hair, eased her head down against his shoulder. She let him take it all.
Remick walked with her towards the altar, his arms still wrapped around her, and Cass rested within his warmth, felt light touch her face. Her palm was innocent of marks, a helpless thing as she held it out, and he took it in his, laid it flat on his own hand. He held out a blade. The knife was long and curved and he smiled, drawing back his lips, baring his teeth.
She didn’t look at her hand as he cut, though the pain was sharp, surprising. She felt it sever something deep inside her, but still she didn’t cry out. It was already over, and the empty space it left behind was good, safe. It belonged to him.
Her eyes were fixed on Remick’s – they were beautiful; had she seen that before? – and Cass felt him closing her fingers on something: a pen. He pushed the book towards her.
She bent to the page, caught its bloody cinnamon scent. It only took a moment to sign her name. It was her true name and she gave it to him, a gift. The thing he wanted.
When she straightened he kissed her forehead. ‘Go,’ he whispered. ‘Go in peace, my child.’
She blinked. Ben was standing close by and she reached out a hand to him. His eyes were dark hollows. He did not smile, nor speak; he just looked at her, unblinking.
‘You’re supposed to free him,’ she said, and her head cleared as she spoke. ‘So free him.’
Remick had turned his back. He snapped the book closed, set it back on the lectern, slipped the pen into some hidden pocket. He wiped the knife on the white cloth adorning the altar and secreted it beneath his coat. He did not speak.
‘Expunge his name, like you said.’ Cass pointed. She waited for him to respond, but he did not.
‘I said
do it
. Keep your promise. Set him free.’
‘He is free.’ Remick brushed dust from his coat, the movements rapid, businesslike.
‘But you said— You said you’d put it right. If I just—’
‘If you
just
—’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t think you understand, Cass. There appears to be some mistake.’
Her throat constricted. She had no air. ‘No. You said. You
promised
.’
‘I did. And I keep my promises, despite what they might say.’
‘You
said
you’d
free
him.’
Remick straightened, turned to face her. ‘I told you. He is free.’
‘But the book—’
‘The book,’ he mocked. ‘Don’t you know anything, Cass? I thought you knew better than that.’
‘But his name—’
‘He’s a child.’
‘But you— His hand—’
‘Yes, yes. He’s a child, for heaven’s sake. Do you not
listen
? A child: an innocent, in the eyes of the Lord, anyway. He’s done nothing binding, nothing I can hold him to. Don’t you understand?’ He smiled. ‘Oh Cass. You see now, don’t you? At last.’
‘He’s—’
‘Innocent, yes. Free, if you like. For now at least.’
‘But he signed—’
‘Nothing binding. As I said.’
She was silent.
‘Take him and go.’
‘But—’
‘I have nothing to hold him. Take him and go.’
Ben still stared straight ahead, his eyes charcoal smudges.
‘Of course, he’ll probably find his way back to me; it’ll be his own choice. It’s true what I said:
his own choice
. There’s the beauty of it. And he thinks of me as his father already, don’t you, Ben?’
‘But the others. Damon, the other boys—’
‘Oh, Damon’s mine; he’s old enough to understand, barely. The others – who knows? But my stamp is on them.’ He grinned, wolfish. ‘They’ll come back. Don’t you feel it, Cass?’
‘But not Ben. You said—’
‘I said I’d free him. I didn’t say he’d
stay
free. Of course, that’s where you come in. You are his mother, aren’t you? You can guide him. Do you think you can do that? Are you a fit mother, Cass?’
She looked down at the blood that was drying on her palm.
‘I thought not. Well, time will tell, won’t it?’
‘But the way he was – he
hit
me. He said such things to me.’
‘Not really surprising, Cass, the way you uprooted him – the way you stopped his daddy coming home. Really, Cass.’
‘He said—’
‘Children are so easy to manipulate; did I not mention that? And with
me
for his teacher … ’ Remick turned to Ben and smiled. ‘Hugs are for sissies, aren’t they, Ben? As for your drawings, you follow instruction so well. The one of your husband and the lady – really, Ben, you should join the family. You
belong
. You still can – when you’re old enough, of course.’
Ben looked away.
‘You told him he
sexed
her. That my husband … that woman—’
Remick snorted. ‘Words – just
words
, Cass. Ben thought that meant
rescued
, didn’t you, son?’ He smiled. ‘Of course, I wouldn’t have put it past your husband: he’s got a very literal mind, hasn’t he, Pete? He’s not the type to worry about the spiritual. About guilt.’
Ben shuffled his feet.
‘Quite right, Ben. Time to be off.’ Remick turned his
eyes on Cass and they were blue no longer. They were steel. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘for your business.’
‘But what about—?’
‘You? What about you?’ He nodded towards Ben. ‘Your son didn’t know what he was doing. He’s as free as a bird. That was our arrangement, wasn’t it?’
‘But—’
‘There are no buts, Cass; there’s no taking back. Your son didn’t understand, but
you
did, didn’t you? You knew exactly what you were doing.’ He paused, a slow smile spreading across his face. ‘Dear, sweet Cass. Welcome to the family.’
THIRTY-ONE
The sound of water dripping was everywhere: from the roofs of houses, from the church spire, from the trees. It filled Cass’ ears. When she walked down to the road that wound through the village she saw it was almost clear of snow; only icy cobweb veils remained. She turned to check that Ben was following. He was. Her chest was filled with freezing air. She wondered if it would thaw, come the spring.
THIRTY-TWO
Cass threw herself down on the sofa and Ben went to his room. She looked at the wall. It was silent now, no scratching or knocking; the only sound came from outside, water pattering onto the ground. It meant time was passing. She should be taking Ben out of here, getting him away, but there no longer seemed to be any point.
She thought of the bodies on the moor. They had been left there for her, a sign. Remick wouldn’t be caught,
couldn’t
be caught. The world had no authority over him.
She didn’t need to look out of the window to see the moors were still covered in snow. It would keep its grip up there a while yet, even as Darnshaw thawed. But the roads across the hills might be clear. She could load up the car and drive away. She should pack, ask Ben to get his things ready. But somehow it was easier to sit and listen to the water drip.
But Ben was at her side, and he was hungry. He pulled at her arm until she stood up. There was bread in the cupboard, although she couldn’t remember how it came
to be there. She buttered some, put it on a plate. Ben pulled a face and she nudged it towards him. He took it and went back into his room.
Cass looked out of the window and the moor looked back. There was the sound of an engine somewhere that seemed at once near and distant, amplified by the topography of the valley. Something big, a 4x4 maybe.
If she could get the car up the lane from the mill she could leave. But the thought of packing, turning the key to start the engine, steering it through the curves of the road – it was all too much.
She couldn’t remember when she’d last tried the telephone – but who could she speak to now? No one would understand. They wouldn’t
know.
Cass realised the pit of her stomach was burning. She went into the kitchen, folded a piece of bread and stuffed it into her mouth, chewed the dry, cloying stuff.
This is love.
She leaned over and choked it up, fingering chewed pieces from her mouth.
When Cass closed her eyes, Remick was there. She could feel the heat of his breath. She was naked before him, and that was all right. She was not ashamed. He ran the back of his hand down her arm, proprietorial.
She heard knocking at the door and buried her face in his shoulder. He was there for her, he would always be there for her, someone to turn to when she couldn’t go on, a rock in time of need. She heard the sound again but she didn’t look; it only hurt when she looked. She
would stay in this place with Remick’s arms around her, a guarantee that everything would be all right.
A door opened and closed.
Remick’s hands were on her thighs, pushing them open. She screwed up her face, keeping her eyes closed.
‘Cass?’
The deep voice was familiar, and Cass knew she should recognise it, but somehow she could not.
‘Cass, are you all right?’ A hand on her arm, solid, heavy. Not like Remick’s. She brushed it away. Her head fell back and she opened her eyes.
The shape loomed over her, outlined by the light from the hall. Somehow she knew it. It looked at her, up and down, and did not say anything. She knew her clothes must be crumpled, her eyes rimmed with dark, still half-asleep.
The figure bent down, peering, finding her not good enough. She had
never
been good enough.
‘Mummy?’
Cass blinked. Ben stood beside her bed, pulling on her sleeve. She caught his arm, felt the frail bones beneath the skin: Ben was safe. She drew him to her and put her arms around him. His hair was greasy under her lips. She should take him away from here, make sure Remick’s eyes never fell on him again.
‘Cass.’
She looked up and saw something that didn’t make any sense: the face was her father’s. It was his voice too, though different, mellowed by time. He had creases around his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and heavy
folds scored his cheeks. Old. He was old, that was it. Cass pulled Ben to her and looked up at her father, waited for him to list all the things that were wrong with her.
One thing. One simple thing.
‘Has something happened?’ He knelt at her side and rubbed her arm. ‘Please tell me you haven’t been like this since Peter—’
Cass blinked. She couldn’t understand what he was saying. It was her dress, maybe. That was it. She was supposed to go to church, but she had mud on her dress. She clutched Ben tighter, heard Remick’s whisper in her ear:
I’ll give you your life back.
Her father spoke. ‘It’s good news, love. I thought—I thought you’d be more over it by now. I never thought he was good for you, you know that, but seeing you like this … ’ He smiled, and the lines scoring his cheeks formed two arcs.
He could help her. The leap of hope was dull, but it was there: her father was a man of God. Cass kept her eyes on him. He could take this all away. They would leave here together; he could take them both with him, and they need never see Darnshaw again.
‘He’s back, love. He came back.’
Cass didn’t know who her father meant. Remick? Remick never went away. He had always been here.
Her father stroked her forehead with the back of his hand and it reminded her of the teacher, his gesture of ownership, and she shuddered and looked away. Was this really her father? It could be Remick, one of his tricks. She clutched Ben close and her son gasped. Her father
tugged at her hand, but she brushed him off. He wasn’t going to take her son away from her.
Never.
‘He’s alive, Glor—
Cass
. I came here to tell you – he’s been back a while, but we had to wait on the other side of the moors until we could get across to you. He can’t wait to see you, Cass. I thought it best if he stayed in the car, though. I didn’t want it to be too much of a shock.’