A Spell of Snow (5 page)

    
‘Hey, that’s
mine!’ I said, sitting up as she gazed at the drawing with a scornful
expression.

    
‘I have known you
all my life,’ she read out, mockingly. ‘You’ve known him five whole days,
that’s all, and you’ll never see him again. You think too much of yourself –
he’ll soon forget you. He won’t be needing any reminders.’

    
I watched in
silent horror as she screwed up the paper and thrust it into her pocket with a
look of challenge in her eyes. ‘Don’t bother telling Mam and Da,’ she said.
‘They can’t wait to see the back of you.’

    
I wanted to cry,
but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. I sat beside Edward at
breakfast, but I could barely eat. Edie and the younger children chatted as
usual, while Ruby just looked unbearably smug. I was grateful when Edward
sneaked his hand over mine under the table, and gave it a squeeze. I blinked as
hard as I could, feeling the heat of Ruby’s gaze.

    
After breakfast it
felt as if everyone had conspired to prevent any talk between Edward and me,
and I was chivvied to the waiting cart as if I were really the unwanted baggage
Ruby believed me to be. At least Vera and Tom seemed sad to be losing their
latest playmate, and Edie gave me a warm, motherly hug and told me to give her
best wishes to my auntie.

    
Once Edie had
released me, Edward took my hands in his – his sprained wrist had been released
from its sling only that morning – and ignoring the family, leaned over to kiss
me firmly on the lips. I heard Ruby suck in a breath behind me, and I put my
arms gently around him and kissed him back. I held on to the kiss for as long
as I could, but eventually Ben said, ‘Well, come on then, we need to get going.
There’s a bus at half past ten, so you should be safely back with your auntie
in no time.’

    
I pulled away
reluctantly, my eyes fixed on Edward’s. I wanted to tell him about the picture;
I wanted him to know how I felt, and that if I could find a way I would be
back, but instead I was forced to turn and climb on to the cart, my words
caught in my throat like a dammed waterfall.

    
As the cart drew
away Ruby turned back to the house, but Edie and the younger children stood in
a cluster, waving. Edward stood still, his eyes locked with mine until the cart
dipped below the rise.

    
Ben was quiet on
the long and fairly treacherous trip to Rillsend. Several times the cart
slithered on patches of slushy snow. Eventually he said, ‘Don’t take on, love.
You’ve only known Edward a few days and it’ll pass. You’re not right for him,
and you’ll both realize that when things settle back down. You wouldn’t want to
be a farmer’s wife, now would you?’ I didn’t have a chance to answer as he went
on, ‘No, of course you wouldn’t. You’re meant for a different life. He’ll see
that soon enough, and so will you.’

    
A few minutes
later we pulled up at the bus stop. There
were
a couple of houses here,
just as I remembered. Why hadn’t I been able to find them again on that night?

    
‘Here we are
then,’ Ben said, just as a bus pulled up the lane.

    
He helped me down
from the cart and said, ‘I want to thank you again for what you did for our
Edward – I think you saved his life. We won’t ever forget that, love.’ He
clasped my hand in a firm grip, and then climbed back up on to the cart. ‘Take
care of yourself, and make sure you do well at that college,’ he said, as he
flicked the reins. The big bay horse turned around and set off through the
dirty slush of the road. I turned away with tears in my eyes. I was sure I’d
never see Edward again, and it
hurt
. Ben was wrong; it wouldn’t pass. I
didn’t know why, but it would never pass.

    
The bus was empty,
and it was a different driver from the other night, which seemed so long ago
now. This one was taciturn and didn’t even spare me a glance as he printed out
my ticket.

    
The bus rumbled
slowly out of Rillsend, and I shrank into the smallest shape I could manage,
shivering despite the warmth. As the journey progressed, the slushy snow
outside gradually thinned and disappeared until, in the built-up suburban
streets of Nimbury, it was non-existent. At around that point a few people
began to get on, and suddenly my mobile sprang into life, burbling every few
seconds with a new text or missed call. I read the increasingly panicked texts
from my auntie with my heart sinking, and quickly sent one off to say I was
safe and on my way. I didn’t feel up to phoning her yet – she’d got the police
involved, so I was clearly in big trouble.

    
I got off the bus
at the same stop as before, and ran to the house. Auntie Cheryl opened the
front door as soon as I stepped on to the path, and then she hurried to meet
me. Her face was pale, devoid of make-up, and she looked like she’d been crying
for days.

    
‘Where were you?
Are you sure you’re all right? What happened?’ she asked, looking me up and
down. ‘And where did you get those clothes?’ I was still wearing Edward’s old
clothes – they’d been far warmer than my school uniform.

    
She ushered me in,
talking as we went. ‘I had to call the police and report you as a missing
person. They’ve been searching for you, your picture’s been in the papers,
everything. I’ve been so worried. You were caught on CCTV on the bus going to
Rillsend – what on earth did you go there for? And then there was no trace of
you there and no one had seen you. It’s like you disappeared into thin air.’

    
‘But I did go to
Rillsend – I
was
there,’ I said. ‘Only there was so much snow and I got
lost, and then…’ I trailed off as she stared at me.

    
‘Snow? There
wasn’t any snow. It’s just been cold and wet the whole time.’

    
‘Well…it
had
snowed a lot there,’ I said. ‘And then there was this boy, Edward, who’d fallen
off his horse and I got him home and then I stayed with the family until the
thaw,’ I added in a breathless rush.

    
She sighed heavily
and sat down on the sofa. ‘Tilly, Rillsend’s just four miles away. How could it
have snowed there and not here? I don’t think it’s been cold enough for snow.
Look, if you’re in trouble, if you’ve got into drugs or something, just tell me
and we’ll get you some help, or get it sorted somehow. But don’t lie to me. I
can’t cope with that, not after this last few days. I thought you were lying
dead somewhere, for God’s sake. I thought –’ She put her head in her hands. I
watched, feeling terrible. This was my fault, but I didn’t know how to make it
right. I couldn’t believe she cared that much about me.

    
A few minutes
later the police arrived and I got a similar reaction.

    
‘You got off the
bus at Rillsend,’ the male officer said. ‘Now where did you go after that?’

    
‘I’ve already
said. I got lost, and then there was this boy who’d fallen off his horse, and
–’

    
‘What was the
boy’s name?’

    
‘Edward.’

    
‘Surname?’

    
‘I never asked. I
mean, I didn’t think to ask.’

    
‘What about the
address, love?’ the female officer asked.

    
‘Well it was a
farm – a sheep farm. I helped out with the sheep, until the thaw, and then Ben
took me back to the bus stop.’

    
‘Ben – but no
surname. Hmm.’

    
‘Yes. And his
wife’s name was Edie. They were very kind to me. Well, except for Ruby, but she
was just jealous…’

    
My auntie made a
choking sound, and everyone turned to look at her. She stared at me with an odd
expression on her face. ‘Did you say
Ruby?
Were there any other brothers
and sisters?’

    
I nodded eagerly.
‘Tom and Vera, but they’re only young. Edward’s the oldest. He’s eighteen.’

    
She put her hands
to her cheeks. ‘And you said their parents were Edie and Ben? Edith and
Benjamin…’ she murmured, almost to herself.

    
‘You know these
people, Ms Turnbull?’ the male officer asked.

    
I watched,
puzzled, as she seemed to pull herself together and take a deep breath before
she said, ‘Well… um… we do have relatives with those names. They had… they have
a hill farm near Rillsend.’ She stared hard at me as she spoke.

    
‘But Rillsend is
all built up – there’s no farms there,’ the female officer said with a frown.

    
My auntie didn’t
take her eyes away from me, and I wilted slightly under the intensity of her
gaze. ‘Oh it’s a little way out,’ she said to the officers. ‘It’s possible
Tilly’s mobile was out of range.’

    
It took a while,
but somehow she managed to persuade the disbelieving officers that I’d somehow
been stranded with relatives. They left the house still looking highly
sceptical, but as I was obviously safe and well it seemed they were willing to
give me the benefit of the doubt.

    
When we were
finally alone in the house, Auntie Cheryl sat opposite me in the living room,
her expression grim. ‘Okay, so how did you know?’ she asked.

    
‘Know what?’

    
‘You saw my
research, is that it? You thought it would make a good story?’

    
‘What story? It’s
true. Why did you tell the police you believed me if you think I made it up?’

    
She sighed. ‘I got
a bit caught up with my own imagination there. I didn’t see how you could know,
but after all, we do live in the same house. It’s all there on my laptop.’

    
‘I haven’t been on
your laptop. Why would I?’ I said, some of my anger returning.

    
‘Okay then, tell
me the whole story,’ she said, her voice still hard.

    
As I outlined the
sequence of events, carefully omitting my feelings for Edward, her expression
softened slowly. She asked me to describe the house and the farm, and Edie and
Ben in particular, and when I ended with my bus ride back into a snow-free
Nimbury, she sat shaking her head in silent astonishment.
      

    
‘So who are they?’
I asked at last. ‘Are they relatives, like you told the police?’

    
She nodded. ‘Edith
and Benjamin Tingey were your great, great, great grandparents.’

    
I sat up straight.
‘Grandparents! But…’ I began to tremble. ‘Does this mean I’m descended
from
Edward? He’s my great, great grandfather?’ I dreaded the answer.

    
‘Oh no, of course
not. Your great, great grandmother was Ruby Jenks.’

    
‘
Ruby!’

    
‘She married a Sam
Jenks. He was a chauffeur. They had three children, and her daughter, June, had
a son, Harold, just after the second world war. Harold married Lily Groves and
they had a son, Graham – your dad – in 1973, and I was born ten years later.
It’s impossible and incredible, but everything you say rings true.’

    
‘But… what about
Edward? Why did you say “of course not”? I asked, my voice wobbling.

    
‘Well, he was
killed in 1914 in the first world war, at the Battle of the Marne.’

    
A jolt of horror
passed through me. ‘How do you know?’ I whispered.

    
‘It’s something
I’ve been interested in for a while: family history. There’s just you and me
left, you know, so I’ve been researching our ancestors online. I’ve got some
pictures and records, too, that your grandparents left to me.’

    
‘Was Edward
married? Did he marry Beryl Partridge? Did they have any children?’

    
Auntie Cheryl was
shaking her head. ‘It’s very sad, but he was only nineteen when he died. He
didn’t have a chance to get married. There was a girl he was fond of, though.
It’s in the family records.’

    
I couldn’t control
my expression; the thought of Edward’s death was devastating. So I’d saved his
life just for him to die a horrible death in the trenches of the first world
war?

    
‘Are you all
right?’ she asked. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think – you were only just there. He’s
still very real to you.’

    
I nodded, holding
back tears with difficulty. ‘Can I see the records?’

    
‘We’ll dig them
out later, but I think we should have a talk about what happened. Did you mean
to run away for good?’

    
I shook my head.
‘I’m sorry. I was just feeling so miserable.’

    
She sighed. ‘I
know you haven’t been happy here. We haven’t really talked, have we? I suppose
a lot of it’s my fault.’

    
‘You didn’t want
me, did you?’ I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice, even
though I was trying to be conciliatory.

    
She looked at me
in silence for a moment. ‘The truth is I knew nothing about you. Graham and me,
there was too big an age difference between us, and he emigrated to Australia
when I was only ten. We didn’t keep in touch, especially after Mum and Dad were
gone. His girlfriend let me know when he died, but she didn’t mention you at
all. It was a big shock when Australian social services contacted me.’