Winter Damage (16 page)

‘Good job,’ smiled Sonny when they returned to their camp. ‘Good job all ways, I reckon.’

Sonny nodded her way and Ennor knew she was close to saying something nice about the big fish without actually saying it and Ennor felt herself steam with pride when she looked at her catch.

Sonny built her spit above the damp smoky fire and both girls bent and coaxed the flames until the glow came back to their faces and Ennor finally passed over the fish.

She wished she had a camera to take its photo so she could show Dad when she got home. He would be so proud of her. Maybe even give her one of his trophies like he used to when she was a kid.

She watched Sonny thread a thin greenwood spear into its muscular side with a satisfying stitch.‘You want to put it on the spit? Say goodbye in your own special?’

‘No you can do it. I’ve done enough, catchin it and everythin.’

They sat and coaxed the fire some more and Ennor made pine-needle tea as they waited for what seemed like for ever for the fish to cook.

There was still a little light to the sky and they watched as a kestrel circled the lake, suddenly dropping like a weight to claw up the fish head.

‘We were a long way out, weren’t we?’ said Ennor.

‘Maybe too far out, when you look at that bird, just a speck in the dust.’

‘Poor bugger.’

‘Who?’

‘The fish. One minute he’s swimmin in his own glory and then bam.’

‘Flat on his back same as you,’ laughed Sonny. ‘Good fun though, weren’t it?’

Ennor poured the tea and turned the fish and she agreed that she quite enjoyed fishing. ‘Guess I’m lucky you came along.’

‘I had to help you out. Couldn’t stomach comin cross your crow-pecked corpse when spring arrived.’

‘That the reason you come?’

‘Bit of adventure, why? What you pokin at?’

‘Just wonderin stuff, your home life and that.’

‘Well don’t.’ Sonny leant forward to turn the fish to a position that was more suitable and she kept from looking at Ennor.

‘You miss your family yet?’

‘Course not. You?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well what that say?’

Ennor sipped her tea and settled the metal plate near the fire to warm. ‘Says I should probably mind my own business.’

‘Correct.’

‘I can’t wait to find Mum. Can hardly think about it for wantin it so much.’ Ennor could see Sonny nodding but she knew she was thinking about something else.

The kestrel finished scavenging all things wet from the fish head and it looped up into the air, caught a ride with the rising wind and was gone.

Ennor looked at the fish fattening and flaking above the flames and tried not to think about the hunger cramping in her stomach.

‘Wind’s comin up,’ said Sonny. ‘Comin up pretty fast in fact.’

‘Maybe it’ll bring warmer weather.’

Sonny stood and looked to where the last slither of daylight crumpled against the moorland.

She licked a finger and held it up to feel for the cold wind and then shook her head.

‘North, north-east, I’d say.’

‘Always,’ said Ennor. ‘I think the planet’s got stuck somehow. Keeps on blowin from the north no matter what. Can’t we just say hell to it and eat the thing?’

Sonny shrugged. ‘Spose. You did catch it.’ She released the fish from the heat and carried it to Ennor and the plate.

They sat like birds of prey hooked in the moment of a good kill and an even better feed, their fingers pulling at the white flesh like barbarians.

Ennor felt full before she knew it and she cursed her shrunken stomach and continued to eat, the pleasure of food on her tongue and pressed against her gums, and she acknowledged another moment when she would have been happy to die.

She sat back with the last chew of fish in her mouth and watched Sonny wipe the plate clean with her fingers.

‘Fat cats.’ Sonny grinned when she saw her looking. ‘The cats that got the cream.’

‘The fish.’

‘The cats that got the fish, int got such a ring to it, has it?’ She wiped her fingers on her jeans and pulled up next to Ennor. ‘Dint need nothin addin to it.’

They sat with the dregs of tea in mugs on their laps and watched the fire dance the day into total darkness.

No guiding stars hung in the sky and there was no bright farm window light on the horizon to point a wayward traveller towards civilisation.

Two girls in the black of a moorland night with the worrying wind and nothing but conversation to keep them from thinking negative detail.

Sonny asked Ennor if she planned to live the rest of her days where she was born and raised and she said she guessed she would. ‘When everythin’s fixed the way it’s supposed and everyone’s happy.’

‘Family-wise?’

‘Family-wise and money-wise with everyone gettin on.’

‘No fightin and lootin and the rest.’

‘And you can go and do anythin and not worry that you might never come home.’

‘That’d be somethin,’ Sonny agreed. ‘Although I’d probably miss the fightin bit.’

‘Int there somethin you’d rather do besides?’

Sonny shrugged. ‘Like it cus it’s the only thing I’m good at. When I turn pro, cage fightin and that, I’ll get myself a stage name and a character, become someone else.’

‘Where’d you go?’

‘LA, New York, see the world if it’s still there.’

‘That’s ambition you got.’

‘It’s more than that. It’s in the marrow of my bones to travel. I can’t wait, hell.’

Ennor laughed. She liked it when Sonny got going; she kind of knew what she was going to say before she said it and this made them like old friends.

‘I like to write.’

‘Lists? Girl, I know that. I’ve seen you scratchin away.’

‘Not just lists. Poems and stuff.’

‘Feelins stuff?’

‘Sometimes.’

Sonny shook her head. ‘What’s the point in that?’

‘Dunno, always done it.’

‘And who reads your mushy bosh? Hell, who’d want to?’

‘Nobody, just me.’

‘Why?’

‘Dunno.’

Sonny looked confused and this made Ennor laugh even more.

‘Can I read it?’

‘My mushy bosh? No.’

‘Anythin in there bout me?’

‘No, why would there be?’

‘You might have had mean thoughts then writ them.’

‘Don’t look so worried. There’s more interestin things to write bout than you.’

‘Good cus don’t.’

‘I can write what I like. It’s called artistic licence.’

‘Autistic more like.’

‘Shut up. Don’t say that.’

As usual congeniality was soon spoiled by arguing followed by silence and this time it was Ennor’s turn to do the sulking.

She thought about Trip and how excited he had been with the Christmas talk and she prayed that all this would be over soon.

If there was a God, and she believed there was, now was the time for some good luck payback. She prayed that the country was so skewed that Trip would be forgotten in the mess of it.

When Sonny asked her if she was moping and tried to soften the darkness by cracking jokes Ennor told her she was tired.

She wrapped her blanket tight around herself like a sleeping bag and lay propped against the rucksack to get the best of the heat. Through the flames she watched Sonny’s silhouette shadow-box at the water’s edge and guilt and affection made her want to shout that she wasn’t really cross with her but melancholy pinched her mouth shut.

CHAPTER NINE

Ennor lay as still as a dog-buried bone and really this was just what she was. She opened an eye to the outside world, expecting to see some colour in the dying fire but saw none. The black of night straddled her and pinned her down with its weight, brushing her face with feather fingers, settling, unsettling. She went to scream but her mouth was dumbstruck shut, a frozen zip rendered useless in the cold.

‘Sonny,’ she tried to shout, her mouth filling up like a balloon. ‘Mm mm.’ She pulled her arms from the hard blanket and reached for her friend.

‘What? What is it?’ shouted Sonny.

‘Mm mm,’ said Ennor.

Sonny gunned the torch and swung the beam towards Ennor.

‘Hell.’

‘Mm?’

‘Your mouth’s frozen shut. Hold the torch so I can look.’

Sonny poked at Ennor’s mouth and tried prizing it open but it didn’t work.

‘It’s frozen,’ she said simply ‘What did I say bout keepin your face covered?’

Ennor nodded and tried to smile.

‘I’m gonna have to warm you up. Don’t want to, but I have to.’ She clapped a hand over Ennor’s mouth and blew a gutful of hot air through her fingers.

Ennor could see she was trying not to laugh and she too felt the beginnings of a giggle somewhere deep in her belly and her ears tickled from the pressure.

She looked into the warm circle of torchlight and saw that their blankets were fluffy white from the snow. Everywhere she looked was white and snowing and she watched it build the fire into a wigwam and turn Sonny into an old maid with white eyebrows and hair.

‘What you smirkin at?’ she asked.

‘Mm mm.’

‘Nothin?’

‘Mm.’

‘Maybe I should leave you stitched. It’s lovely and quiet round here.’

She kept up the blowing for some time and Ennor could feel a tingling sensation return to her lips.

‘Can you open them yet?’

Ennor tried and then shook her head.

‘Let me try.’ Sonny pinched the upper and lower lip and then pulled and they came apart with a rip.

‘Aw!’ shouted Ennor. ‘Did you have to make it hurt so much?’

‘Yep, here, take this.’ Sonny handed her the handkerchief from her pocket. ‘You’re bleedin.’

They packed up their few belongings as quickly as they could and ran towards the nearby woods. The snow was falling fast and crossways to the lake and the two girls hung on to each other to keep from tumbling. The blizzard wind slapped and pushed from all angles and bit at Ennor’s mouth with barbed kisses. She thought she might faint or cry from the pain, maybe both.

Sonny was shouting something and she nodded. Whatever she was saying was just that, whatever. Wherever they were going, whatever they were doing was fine by her. She dabbed her lips until the tissue no longer showed red and she kept her hand over her mouth like a keeper of secrets. She kept hold of Sonny’s jacket when she climbed the fence and stomped the snow-laden bracken flat and Ennor did the same, turning her face out of the bully wind to keep an eye on their path.

In the woods the trees gave partial shelter from the driving snow and Sonny shouted that she wanted to keep walking until they were out of the wind.

The small outcrop of trees seemed to double in size as they got nearer and had grown into tall, thick woodland. The snow had crept into the tree line and slunk vertical to each exposed tree and Ennor wondered if anyone had ever been trapped in a snow-banked wood or forest? Tonight it could happen. She looked out into the shaded wilderness for something to count, anything to keep her mind from the claustrophobic fear, but there was nothing but dark and she started to sing instead.

When she counted down to ninety green bottles she realised she was not alone in singing and she smiled despite the cracking sting of her lips. Sonny was a little scared too and this made her feel better. They were equal.

Together they reached sixty bottles and Sonny stopped singing and turned to Ennor.

‘We should stop, if we go any further we’ll be back in the storm.’ Sonny waved the torchlight through the trees and then back at Ennor.

‘Your mouth looks bad.’

‘How bad?’

‘Like proper bad. You got any balm?’

‘No, you?’

‘Don’t be daft. You’ll have to rub it with ear wax.’

‘Get lost.’

‘The SAS do it in jungles. If it’s good enough for them.’

Ennor sighed. She didn’t want to do it; she knew what ear wax tasted like and it tasted bad.

Sonny was sitting on the tarp she’d laid out on the ground and she was watching Ennor with intent.

‘Turn that light away, will you?’

‘Why? It int no dirty act.’

‘Just let me do it.’ Ennor stuck both index fingers into her ears and wriggled them in deep.

The momentary silence was a relief from the rush of wind through the trees and she closed her eyes to enjoy the peace. Her mind travelled back to the tropical shores of fantasy but this time she was aboard a fishing boat.

The rise and fall of undercurrent was like a gently rocking hammock adrift on a warm summer breeze. Ennor could smell the saltwater, could taste it on her lips, soothing.

She lay back in the boat and looked up at the sky and could have sworn she saw God in the smiling sun.