‘Yes.’
‘Are we going to stay here and watch it burn?’
‘No need for that. We can go back to the hotel now.’
‘Do you think death is making us both a bit crazy?’
‘Yes.’
‘You go first,’ she said. ‘I’ll follow.’
By the time they got back to the hotel the bad weather coming in had been heralded by the advance force of a strong, scything wind. It flapped at the flags on the poles outside the hotel. It gusted along the streets and herded loose snow into drifts. They had a discussion about whether to go and shut down all the chairlifts they had set in motion. Jake said that was senseless. Zoe said that the wind might damage them, and if that happened they might not be available for them to use.
‘It won’t matter. I somehow feel that we haven’t much longer anyway.’
‘Why say that? Why?’
The wind snapped at the flags, threatening to tear them from their proud poles. Jake said nothing and walked indoors. Zoe followed, holding her belly.
She followed him into the kitchen. He walked up to the stainless steel worktop and stood before the chopped meat and vegetables that had remained there since the day of the first avalanche. The pink meat was greying at the edges. It had developed an opalescent sheen. The sliced vegetables were looking a little wilted. Celery had begun to brown where the knife had stripped it so neatly. Peppers had given up the lustre of their outer skins. Carrots were shedding their vivid orange pigment, whitening.
Jake leaned in close to the slices of beef. He sniffed. His nose twitched.
‘Let’s clear this crap away,’ Zoe said.
Jake put out an arm to stop her. ‘Leave it all there. It’s our only clock.’
But Zoe didn’t like what she was hearing. She turned on her heels and went back to their room.
Outside, the wind had turned into a gale. It swooped and moaned and howled around the gables and the eaves of the hotel; mournful, grieving, as if unable to rest in its search for something lost, something that had to be evened out. They watched from the window. A flag had been ripped from the pole and had wrapped itself around a nearby lamp post. An advertising hoarding was blown down flat.
To escape the sounds of the wind they retreated to the spa and turned up the dials on the sauna. They undressed and swam while they waited for the sauna to heat. Zoe thought the water was a degree or two cooler, but chose to say nothing. When the sauna was ready they stepped, dripping, into the pine cabin. Jake ladled water onto the imitation coals.
They sat back, falling into a trance.
‘If only we could do something. If only we could act to change our situation,’ said Zoe.
‘We’ve been through this. All we can do is exist. For as long as we are allowed.’
Zoe stroked her belly again. The steam rose from the coals. She thought the sauna cabin was getting too hot. ‘It’s enough,’ she said.
‘I’m not even sweating,’ Jake complained.
‘No, but I am.’ She took the ladle from his hand and hid it behind her back. ‘I have something to tell you.’
‘I don’t want to hear it.’
‘Why not? You have to hear it.’
‘Nope. There’s a curve in your voice that tells me it’s not something I want to hear. In these circumstances, whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.’
‘You have to hear it. If you love me, you have to.’ ‘You think that people who love each other should tell each other everything?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Why is that ridiculous, fucker? Whenever I disagree with you it’s “ridiculous”. Do you know you’re just as maddening dead as you were alive? Death hasn’t helped you along one bit.’
‘You done?’
‘Mostly.’
‘You want to hear why it’s ridiculous? Because two people in love don’t make a hive mind. Neither should they want to be a hive mind, to think the same, to know the same. It’s about being separate and still loving each other, being distinct from each other. One is the violin string, one is the bow.’
‘God help us.’
‘Take it in turns, but that’s how it should be.’
‘Jake: do you have secrets from me?’
‘I hope so. And I hope you have some secrets from me.’
‘Well, this one can’t stay a secret.’
‘Come on, then. Let’s have it.’
She was about to tell him of the baby growing inside her when the lights flickered and went out. They were left in total darkness in the steam cabin. They waited for a few moments to see if the power would reappear like last time. It didn’t. They carefully negotiated their way out of the sauna and across the side of the swimming pool. There was just enough moonlight reflected from the snowy exterior for them to see by.
‘Is it the wind?’ Zoe said. ‘Maybe it brought the power cables down.’
Jake handed her clothes to her without answering.
They made their way back through the darkness of the hotel reception. Jake knew where to put his hands on candles from the restaurant. He made Zoe wait until he returned with a fistful of candles, holding one lighted before him. He led the way back to their room.
Outside the gale had reached a ferocious pitch but the village was well built for storms. They couldn’t see any signs of power cables torn down. They left candles burning by the bedside and climbed into bed, holding each other while the wind gulped and sighed and moaned around the eaves. Zoe said she could hear voices in the wind, men’s voices shouting. Jake kissed her and hugged her and told her to go to sleep.
Jake could swing wildly from sage to soldier to husband to schoolboy and with breathtaking rapidity. It was one of the reasons why she loved him. They had sex but for some reason he was too gentle with her. After he ejaculated inside her, he laughed; and then immediately burst into tears. He was like a drunk. She held him as his huge sobs subsided, and he drifted off to sleep.
In the middle of the night he woke her. She was groggy, but he was shaking her shoulder. ‘Wake up, Zoe—I figured it out.’
She opened her eyes. The lights were on in the room, though the candles were still burning. ‘Oh, the power came back.’
Jake looked over his shoulder and up at the lights, as if distracted, or as if he hadn’t noticed. ‘Oh. Yes. But I worked it out. I know where we are. We’re at the place where the laws of physics and the laws of dreaming meet.’
‘What?’
‘Exactly that. I woke up and realised it.’
She pulled him back to the bed, closer to her. ‘Go back to sleep, darling. Back to sleep.’
‘Yes.’
He did so instantly. She got out of the bed to switch off the electric lights. An almost full moon had emerged from behind the clouds to shine waxy, brilliant light onto the snow outside. It reminded her of her father. She lay there looking at the moon, as if it had secrets, as if it had knowledge.
10
Her father had said, You should hold on to every single moment of life, Zoe, because it runs away, runs away so fast. And he would know: lost both parents before he was out of short trousers, then a brother in a car smash, and then a lovely sister who had slipped on some ice on her way to church and didn’t she crack her skull? Then of course Zoe’s own mother. It can be all over like that, Zoe, like that.
He wiped two forefingers together to show what like that was all about.
Zoe had been over at his house doing the tree. She’d done the tree for him every year since her mother had died. They’d had a dispute about it. Not an argument exactly. But Archie had said what was the point when he was going to be away over Christmas? But she’d said it wouldn’t be the same without the tree.