I walk on the dark side of the road.
I quietly disengaged my arm from hers, kicked my way through the piled-up snow drift, and strode out of the tithe barn and into the unnaturally still air. I headed past the Manor, towards the row of Victorian cottages on the other side. Penny came hurrying after me, muttering baby swear words under her breath as she trudged through the deep snow as quickly as she could. She stumbled along at my side, glancing at me from time to time in a puzzled sort of way, but said nothing. Perhaps she sensed my mood, even if she didn’t understand it. She moved forward to take the lead, and I let her. This was her home, after all. The sound of our footsteps, punching through the snow, seemed very small in the face of such a great open snowscape. Gleaming white expanses stretched away before us, heading off into the distance beyond the cottages, until they disappeared into the iron grey fog.
‘OK,’ said Penny, after a while. ‘This is just a bit odd, and not a little freaky …’
‘What is?’ I said, looking quickly about me.
‘Look at the snow behind us. What do you see? Our footsteps. A long line, from the Manor’s front door to the tithe barn, and then more, coming back. Now what do you see ahead of us? Nothing! The snow ahead is perfect, unmarked, for as far as I can see. You’d expect something … bird tracks, animal tracks … fox, stoat, badger. But there’s nothing. That’s not right, Ishmael. Unless, maybe it’s just too cold for anything to be out and about …’
‘Could be,’ I said. ‘I’ve been places where the air gets so cold, birds just freeze on the wing and drop dead out of the sky.’
Penny looked at me. ‘You’ve lived, haven’t you?’
I smiled. ‘You have no idea.’
We came at last to the long terraced row of Victorian cottages. Squat and square buildings, built from a creamy stone, with bay windows and neatly-slanting roofs. Probably tiled, under the snow. All of them dark and still and silent, as though huddling together for warmth and support against the cold. Penny looked them up and down, and sniffed loudly.
‘Pleasant enough, I suppose. Even charming, if your tastes run that way. They always look to me like they should be on the cover of some really twee jigsaw puzzle. Nothing too demanding. That big one standing on its own: that’s GravelStone Cottage. Originally intended for the Manor’s head gardener and his family. The others were for the extensive gardening staff. Took a lot of people to look after these grounds, in the days before the ride-on mower. The other servants lived in the manor house itself, so they could always be on call … But, these days, the gardening people are supplied by an outside agency, and the few house staff prefer to come in from outside. So Daddy rents the cottages out.’
She paused, so she could lean in confidentially. ‘Daddy needs the money. The family fortunes aren’t what they were. Daddy used to run the family business, and well enough from what I hear … but as he got older, he just found it all too much of a chore. He backed off and let the Board make all the decisions. They haven’t done as well. Particularly since they started listening to Alexander Khan. He speaks for the Board now. And I’m pretty sure he’s only here now because he’s trying to talk Daddy into selling off some of our land, to provide liquid cash for the company. I mean, I don’t mind! It’s not like we use it for anything. But Daddy won’t want to. Like the house, the land has been in Belcourt hands for generations. Alex is trying to get to Daddy through Mummy. They think I haven’t noticed. Hah!’
That last word came out harshly, with real anger behind it. I didn’t say anything. I did wonder why Roger hadn’t spoken to Penny about the money Khan wanted him to put into the company. It seemed like the kind of thing Roger would enjoy holding over her. To put pressure on her … Maybe the young man had principles, after all. People can always surprise you.
Penny led me on, past the row of cottages and round the end, so we could move out into the great white wilderness of the open grounds. There were a few dark stick-figure trees, too thin for the snow to cling to … and great lumps and mounds, here and there. Buried flower gardens; old moss-flecked statues buried up to their waists; pagodas and gazebos; and snow, snow, everywhere.
Penny stopped suddenly and looked about her. ‘We have to be careful, Ishmael. There’s a big pond here somewhere. Covered with thick ice, I’m sure, with snow on top; but even so, I don’t think we want to go walking across it. Come around this way, and we should be safe enough.’
‘You have your own pond?’ I said as we circled around.
‘Full of trout, in the summer,’ said Penny. ‘And of course there’s a swimming pool, just up beyond the orange grove.’
‘Oh, well,’ I said. ‘If I had an orange grove, that’s where I’d put a swimming pool.’
Penny laughed. ‘It’s another world, isn’t it?’
We ended up walking between two great rows of louring snow-covered topiary shapes. I found them disturbing; their very vagueness suggested all sorts of unpleasant possibilities. Sometimes great clumps of snow would fall away from them as we passed, plunging to the ground, shaken off by the vibrations of our heavy footsteps. Penny would always jump. I didn’t.
‘I used to love these topiary animals, as a child,’ said Penny, glancing quickly about her. ‘Not so much, now. It’s like there could be a whole new shape, hidden under the snow. Monsters, hiding in plain sight.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I know what you mean.’
Penny stopped and scowled about her, into the thickening mists. ‘The main flower gardens should be around here somewhere, but I’m damned if I could show you where. They’re just … gone. Vanished into the snow. I really don’t like this, Ishmael … feeling lost, in familiar surroundings. Like you can’t trust anything.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I know what you mean.’
Penny shuddered suddenly, even inside her heavy fur coat. ‘Dear God, I’m freezing! Aren’t you freezing? Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, after all.’
‘Then let’s go back,’ I said.
‘Oh, bless you! I’ve been dying to say that for ages, but didn’t know how to without sounding like a complete wuss.’
‘The Colonel definitely isn’t in any of the outbuildings,’ I said. ‘And there’s nowhere else he could be, out here; so we might as well go back.’
‘Let’s go,’ said Penny. ‘Somewhere back at the Manor, a nice hot drink is calling my name, in a loud and compelling voice.’
She stomped back through the snow, heading for home, and I strode along beside her.
I could feel the storm building. Growing, gathering its strength. I would have preferred to hurry, to get safe inside the house before the storm hit, but I couldn’t leave Penny behind. So I allowed her to set the pace and filled the time looking about me. And it was only by chance I saw the snowman, hidden behind one of the great topiary shapes. I stopped and pointed it out to Penny, and she squealed with delight like a child, clapping her gloved hands together. So of course we had to go over and take a look. It was just a rough shape — man-sized, though something less than a man’s height — but with no pieces of coal or carrot to make a face, and no scarf wrapped around the thick neck.
‘I wonder who made it?’ said Penny. ‘I mean; why come all the way out here, in this awful cold, and then make such a half-assed job of it?’
I stood very still, looking steadily at the rough snow shape. ‘Penny; I smell blood.’
She looked at me, not sure how to take that. ‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Blood. Something bad has happened here.’
I gouged great chunks out of the snowman’s side, throwing them away. And a human arm fell out, hanging stiffly from the snowman. The hand was frozen solid, perfectly colourless. Penny didn’t scream, but her eyes were very wide. I pulled the snowman apart with savage speed, ripping great handfuls of snow away. It took more than human strength, but Penny didn’t notice.