Clare looked out the window. The sky beyond was still a map of white. “It’s too early in the season for the snow to be very thick.”
“I would think so too. But it has been snowing for two days now without respite.” He sipped his drink and frowned. “This is unnatural weather. It came out of nowhere and refuses to stop.”
Another memory hit Clare. Blowing past her like a cold wind, the thought was there and gone before she could do more than shiver at it. She’d been driving through a snowstorm, a bad one. There had been a car on the side of the road, abandoned.
“Now my priority is to get you back to civilisation as quickly as possible.” Dorran put his mug aside. “I cleaned and stitched your wounds, and we have antibiotics, but you will probably fare better in the hands of a proper doctor.”
She cleared her throat. “And my sister will be worried. She might even be looking for me. I need to tell her I’m all right.”
“I’m afraid we are cut off until the phones are restored.”
She hesitated, a last thread of cautious doubt clinging to her and warning her not to share her secret. Be careful, Beth’s voice said. Trust, her heart whispered. “I have a shortwave radio.”
His eyebrows rose. “Where?”
“In my car. My sister bought it for me. She keeps another set tuned to the same frequency so that we can contact each other in emergencies.” She shrugged and pulled the dressing gown a little tighter. “Because my house is rural, I’m usually the last to get services reconnected when something goes down. Once, I was snowed in for almost a week with no power to charge my mobile. I was fine, of course. I had food and water and everything. But Beth was frantic.”
“And she will be listening for contact from you?”
“I’m sure she will. My call was disconnected shortly before…” She blinked and saw Banksy Forest’s massive trunks passing either side of her car then saw herself glance towards the phone. “Before the crash, I guess. She’ll be worried sick. She might even be looking for me.”
“Your car should still be out there.” He stood and crossed to the window, running one hand through his hair. “It was off the side of the road. I almost didn’t see it. As long as no one has passed through and towed it, and I doubt they would in this snow, we should be able to retrieve the radio and signal for help.”
“How bad was the crash? Do you think the car might still work?”
“I wouldn’t expect so. The damage looked widespread. And even if it did run, the roads would be too heavily covered for you to get far.” He turned back to her. “But the radio is within reach. We can aim for that if nothing else.”
Chapter Six
“How quickly can we go?” Clare tried to rise out of her chair but had to sink back down as her legs shook.
“You will not be going anywhere for a while.” Dorran passed behind her as he paced the room. “The weather is too vicious.”
“I’m used to it.” Clare knew she sounded defensive, but she couldn’t help it. Moving to Winthrop had been an important moment for her. It was one of the first significant changes she’d made under her own power. Beth loved her, but she’d sheltered Clare, sometimes too much. Clare had handled every aspect of the move, though, from finding the house and hiring removalists to having to pay for repairs on her car after spinning into a ditch on her first winter there. Three years later, she felt as though she’d made the region her own. She loved the winters. She was a competent driver once snow set in. She’d endured hours outside in sleet to set up protection for her garden. Dorran’s questioning felt a little too close to Beth’s endless fretting.
Dorran tilted his head. “I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t. But you are injured, plus you will have less resilience to the cold with the blood loss. This type of weather isn’t something to be taken lightly.”
“I’ve seen snowstorms before.”
“Yes. But the temperatures are abnormally low for this area. I have lived here my whole life, and I wouldn’t risk the trip without precautions.”
Clare chewed her lip. As much as she wanted to reach her car, she had to concede the point. She hadn’t made it far when she’d tried leaving the house. “What kinds of precautions would you need?”
“Your car is perhaps an hour’s walk away. I won’t try until the storm lets up.”
“And you don’t know how long that will take?”
“I am sorry, no. But hopefully not long. I would have expected it to have subsided already.”
Clare watched the blizzard beat at the window. “You don’t have a snowmobile or something like it?”
His smile was grim. “My mother would never allow it. She believes that too much technology erodes our minds, makes us soft.”
“Yikes,” Clare whispered. “You must have had a fun childhood.”
Dorran laughed. “Oh yes, I did.”
Clare looked around, absorbing the room’s details—the thick wallpaper and elaborate cornices. Every surface was polished until its dark wood shone. It felt stifling. She tried to visualise the family who lived there. Are they all as odd as Dorran? “So we can’t do anything except wait?”
“I am afraid so. We are at the weather’s mercy today.” He stopped by her chair. “You will be tired. Let me help you to bed.”
“I can get there myself,” Clare retorted. She glanced at the four-poster bed on the opposite side of the room. She’d never in her life imagined that going to bed would be a hard task, but the ten paces separating her from it could have been a mile.
Dorran silently extended a hand. Clare sighed, swallowed her pride, and took it. His fingers dwarfed hers, but they were surprisingly gentle as he supported her.
The fire had done its job of warming her, and as Clare curled up in the bed, still wearing the dressing gown, she relished the extra-thick quilts.
Dorran stayed by the fireplace, reading an old cloth-bound novel and feeding new logs into the fire when it burnt low. Clare was too exhausted to complain. And as she drifted under, she realised she was at least a little grateful for the company. The house, despite being caked in opulence, felt hostile, as though she were unworthy of staying in it. As if it barely tolerated her. The judgement seeped out of the walls and rose through the floorboards. It bled resentment.
Clare slept poorly. Her dreams were spotted with memories from her last day of normal life. But they were distorted, unnerving, and bordering on nightmarish. She thought there had been something on the TV that had worried Beth—something that a lot of people were upset about. That was the reason she had been driving to Marnie’s.
When she startled awake, the light’s angle told her it was early morning. She’d rolled onto her bad arm, and a line of fire erupted along its length. Clare groaned and pried it free.
“Here,” a familiar voice said. Dorran stood at her side, wearing a beige knit top and offering a glass of water and painkillers. She gratefully swallowed the tablets and drained the water.
As she passed the glass back, she asked, “How’s the weather?”
“Hm.” A grim smile was all the answer Clare needed, but she still turned towards the window. The panes rattled as a burst of wind buffeted them. Snow caked the metal.
She dragged a hand over her face. “Okay.”
Dorran chuckled. “Do not give up hope. It might clear later today.”