Read Online A Cold Season by Alison Littlewood - Free Book Online
Authors: Alison Littlewood
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have a drink before you go? Something to warm you up?’
They bustled in, and as they took off their wet coats, discarded gloves and scarves and boots, something Sally had said finally registered. ‘Sally,’ said Cass, ‘did you say the phone lines are down?’ Her voice was sharp and Sally looked up with surprise.
‘I did. It often happens with the snow. It’ll take a few days to fix, I shouldn’t wonder.’
But Cass was already striding into the lounge, snatching up the telephone. There was no buzzing on the line, nothing but a faint silvery noise like snowfall.
‘They’ll be back up before long. I’m sure people will realise. Was there someone you wanted to call?’
‘Not really.’ Cass slowly replaced the phone. ‘Just some files I should have sent off for work.’ It’ll be done for tomorrow morning , she’d said. Now she’d have no email, and she couldn’t even ring her client to tell them the job would be late. She couldn’t get a signal on her mobile either. Why hadn’t she done the work today? She could have finished it this afternoon, sent it off at once. But surely the telephones would be fixed tomorrow. Maybe everything would be: the road cleared, the car running smoothly, everything working the way it should. She glanced at the window. She could just make out the steep hillside, mocking in its beauty.
‘Oh dear,’ said Sally. ‘Well, they’ll understand, won’t they? It’s not as if it’s your fault, after all.’
We launch in a week.
Cass bit her lip. She had a week – no, not so long. They would want it all in place before that.
Sally’s right, they’ll fix the phones tomorrow , she told herself. It’ll be fine. Even Mr Remick had said so. That hand on her arm. Those eyes. It’ll all be fine.
Ben and Damon sat on the floor, drinking hot chocolate. Damon had asked for Coke, but Cass didn’t have any and Damon had looked his contempt at her. Ben didn’t seem to notice the older boy’s surliness. He showed Damon his games, chattering away about each one, and they both groaned when Sally declared it was time to go. She clappedher hands and Damon scowled as he dragged himself to his feet.
‘Say thank you.’
‘What for?’
‘Don’t be rude. Say thank you for the drink and hurry up.’
Damon turned those eyes on Cass. The irises were dark, almost as dark as his pupils, and they held a pale gleam. ‘Thank you for the chocolate ,’ he said.
Cass chose to ignore the emphasis in his words. ‘You’re very welcome.’ She took the cup from his outstretched hand and saw an ugly mark crossing his palm. ‘Oh, what happened? Are you all right?’
She felt Sally’s gaze on her, but she bent and took Damon’s hand anyway, turning it so she could see the wound. It wasn’t fresh, nor was it as livid as she’d thought. He’d cut it some time in the past, and the skin was a deeper pink where it had healed. Damon left his hand in hers for a second, a cold, limp thing, then whipped it away.
Cass expected his mother to say something, tell him off again, maybe, but she did not. When Cass looked round she saw that Sally’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. They said their goodbyes and Cass closed the door on them, leaning her head on it in relief.
Then she thought of the entryphone. Sally hadn’t used it either; she’d come straight up the stairs to the apartment door. So either she knew the code too or the main entrance hadn’t been locked. Cass didn’t think that Ben had memorised the code yet – he hadn’t come in alone before, had never needed to.
She turned to Ben. ‘How did you get in? Did Mrs Spencer have the code?
He shrugged and turned back to his games, stacking them in a neat pile, lining up the edges.
‘Ben, I asked you a question.’
He looked up, shrugged again, stuck out his bottom lip.
Cass sighed. ‘I’m popping downstairs for a minute,’ she said. ‘Be ready to let me in, okay? I might ring the entry-phone. You know where it is,
They bustled in, and as they took off their wet coats, discarded gloves and scarves and boots, something Sally had said finally registered. ‘Sally,’ said Cass, ‘did you say the phone lines are down?’ Her voice was sharp and Sally looked up with surprise.
‘I did. It often happens with the snow. It’ll take a few days to fix, I shouldn’t wonder.’
But Cass was already striding into the lounge, snatching up the telephone. There was no buzzing on the line, nothing but a faint silvery noise like snowfall.
‘They’ll be back up before long. I’m sure people will realise. Was there someone you wanted to call?’
‘Not really.’ Cass slowly replaced the phone. ‘Just some files I should have sent off for work.’ It’ll be done for tomorrow morning , she’d said. Now she’d have no email, and she couldn’t even ring her client to tell them the job would be late. She couldn’t get a signal on her mobile either. Why hadn’t she done the work today? She could have finished it this afternoon, sent it off at once. But surely the telephones would be fixed tomorrow. Maybe everything would be: the road cleared, the car running smoothly, everything working the way it should. She glanced at the window. She could just make out the steep hillside, mocking in its beauty.
‘Oh dear,’ said Sally. ‘Well, they’ll understand, won’t they? It’s not as if it’s your fault, after all.’
We launch in a week.
Cass bit her lip. She had a week – no, not so long. They would want it all in place before that.
Sally’s right, they’ll fix the phones tomorrow , she told herself. It’ll be fine. Even Mr Remick had said so. That hand on her arm. Those eyes. It’ll all be fine.
Ben and Damon sat on the floor, drinking hot chocolate. Damon had asked for Coke, but Cass didn’t have any and Damon had looked his contempt at her. Ben didn’t seem to notice the older boy’s surliness. He showed Damon his games, chattering away about each one, and they both groaned when Sally declared it was time to go. She clappedher hands and Damon scowled as he dragged himself to his feet.
‘Say thank you.’
‘What for?’
‘Don’t be rude. Say thank you for the drink and hurry up.’
Damon turned those eyes on Cass. The irises were dark, almost as dark as his pupils, and they held a pale gleam. ‘Thank you for the chocolate ,’ he said.
Cass chose to ignore the emphasis in his words. ‘You’re very welcome.’ She took the cup from his outstretched hand and saw an ugly mark crossing his palm. ‘Oh, what happened? Are you all right?’
She felt Sally’s gaze on her, but she bent and took Damon’s hand anyway, turning it so she could see the wound. It wasn’t fresh, nor was it as livid as she’d thought. He’d cut it some time in the past, and the skin was a deeper pink where it had healed. Damon left his hand in hers for a second, a cold, limp thing, then whipped it away.
Cass expected his mother to say something, tell him off again, maybe, but she did not. When Cass looked round she saw that Sally’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. They said their goodbyes and Cass closed the door on them, leaning her head on it in relief.
Then she thought of the entryphone. Sally hadn’t used it either; she’d come straight up the stairs to the apartment door. So either she knew the code too or the main entrance hadn’t been locked. Cass didn’t think that Ben had memorised the code yet – he hadn’t come in alone before, had never needed to.
She turned to Ben. ‘How did you get in? Did Mrs Spencer have the code?
He shrugged and turned back to his games, stacking them in a neat pile, lining up the edges.
‘Ben, I asked you a question.’
He looked up, shrugged again, stuck out his bottom lip.
Cass sighed. ‘I’m popping downstairs for a minute,’ she said. ‘Be ready to let me in, okay? I might ring the entry-phone. You know where it is,
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