‘You don’t care for Christmas?’
‘Christmas is fine; it’s the family gatherings that get on my tits. Trapped here for days on end, with people I hardly know or care about. For me, Christmas is just something to get through. Though it’s not as if I’ve anywhere else to go. Or anyone else to be with …’
‘Why do you keep coming back?’ I said.
‘Because it’s family,’ Penny said tiredly. ‘Family obligations, and all that. The blood that calls, and the ties that bind. You know how it is …’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Not really. I have no family. There’s only ever been me.’
Penny looked quickly at me. ‘Oh Ishmael; I’m so sorry. And I’ve just been prattling on … Are you an orphan?’
‘Something like that,’ I said. ‘The Colonel … James … is the closest I’ve ever had.’
‘To a family?’
‘To a father,’ I said.
I hadn’t realized I was going to say that, until I heard myself saying it. I stopped short, thinking. Trying to work out what I felt. Penny smiled, slipped her arm through mine, and cuddled up against me. I should have pushed her away. I knew it wasn’t fair, to her or to me, to give her any encouragement. As soon as I found the Colonel, and dealt with whatever business he had for me here, I would be on my way again. I’m always leaving. It’s easier on everyone else that way. Because they’re going to get old, and I won’t. Because I can never tell anyone the truth about me. Because they wouldn’t love me, if they knew I wasn’t human. And because … I’m afraid. Afraid I might not be what I think I am. That my memories, or flashbacks, might be just a cover, to hide something awful. I made a firm decision long ago to walk alone, and live alone, because that was safer for everyone. I don’t want to hurt anyone.
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.
Inside the snowman was the body of James Belcourt. My Colonel. Dead, for some time. He’d been left sitting cross-legged on the ground, and then covered with snow, shaped to look like a snowman. So no one would suspect. I stood back, not even breathing hard, brushing snow from my gloves. Looking at what someone had done to my Colonel. And right then my heart was colder than anything in that winter garden.
‘Not a bad idea,’ I said. ‘The body wouldn’t have reappeared until the snow melted, and by then the killer expected to be long gone. But the storm set in, sealing off the Manor from the rest of the world. And the killer was trapped here.’
‘You mean … you think one of the people staying at the Manor is the killer?’ said Penny. Her voice was steady enough, but here eyes were still very wide.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s what I think. Don’t you?’
She didn’t know what to say. I knelt down before the body, to stare into the Colonel’s unblinking eyes.
‘All the time I was looking for you, here you were, waiting for me to find you. Came really close to missing you, Colonel. Sorry. This probably would have worked, if I hadn’t smelled the blood.’ And then I stopped and looked the body over carefully. ‘No obvious wounds. No damage to the body, apart from what looks like a ring of dried blood round the throat. Strangled? Garrotted? And no blood underneath you … So you weren’t killed here, Colonel. You were killed somewhere else and dumped here.’
‘I’m really very sorry, Ishmael,’ said Penny, tentatively. ‘You came all this way, just to find him dead. What will you do now?’
‘Avenge him,’ I said.
I took the Colonel’s body in my arms and hugged him tightly. The body was hard and unyielding in my arms. I never once held him when he was alive. But he had been closer to me than anyone, in his own way.
After a while Penny knelt down beside me and put a hand on my shoulder, saying something, trying to comfort me, but I didn’t hear what she said. I wasn’t listening. The Colonel had been taken away from me, and I was alone again. I’d never felt so cold.
Someone would pay for this. Pay in blood and horror.
I took a firm grip on the body and started to lift it up. It came free from the frozen ground with a lurch, and the Colonel’s head fell off. Penny made a brief sound and fell back a few paces. I put the body back down and looked at the head. Someone had taken the head clean off, leaving a ragged wound at the neck stump. And then, they had replaced the head, quite neatly. I studied the pale pink and grey neck wound carefully. It was a savage, ragged tear. Far worse than you’d expect from a sword, or an axe. This looked more as though the head had been sawed off. I reached down and picked up the Colonel’s head. The face seemed to stare reproachfully up at me.
You got here too late, Ishmael.
Five
The Pointing Finger of Suspicion
Snow began falling again. Great fat white flakes, coming down so hard that even I had trouble seeing the way ahead. The storm was coming, and it was going to be a monster. The temperature was already plummeting to the kind of cold that kills. I could cope with that, for a while, but Penny couldn’t. I had to get her back to the manor house, as quickly as possible.
I picked up the Colonel’s body and slung it over one shoulder. He was still frozen solid in his cross-legged stance, but I managed. I held his head under my other arm. A bit undignified, but the Colonel wouldn’t have minded. He was always a very practical man.
I headed back to the manor house, with Penny trudging along beside me. She looked straight ahead, so she wouldn’t have to look at the body. I pressed on, driving my feet deep into the snow, to give me enough traction to keep me moving forward. It wasn’t long before I realized Penny was falling behind, unable to keep up. She didn’t have my strength, and the bitter cold was leeching the energy right out of her. I moved to walk directly in front of her, so she could use my body as a windbreak. That helped her make better time.
Finding our way back was easy enough; all I had to do was follow our footsteps. And by the time enough snow had fallen to cover them, the great house was already looming out of the mists, right ahead of us. Penny made a harsh sound of relief and plunged past me, forcing her way through the snow with all the strength that adrenalin and desperation could provide. She scrambled up to the front door, tried the handle, and the door wouldn’t open.
Penny looked back at me. ‘It’s locked! Someone’s locked the door!’
She tried the heavy iron knocker, but it was frozen to the door, and she couldn’t budge it. She beat on the door with her fist, but the thick glove soaked up most of the sound. Penny ripped her gloves off, and then cried out despite herself as the bitter cold seared her bare skin. She hammered on the door with both fists, calling out as loudly as she could. No one answered.
‘Get out of the way, Penny,’ I said. ‘I’ll kick the door in.’
‘Don’t be stupid!’ she snapped, not looking round. ‘Look at the size and weight of the door! You couldn’t budge it! Nothing human could.’
I was pretty sure I could kick the door right off its hinges if I got annoyed enough, but even as Penny was speaking the door swung suddenly open, and Jeeves looked out. He saw the body in my arms and fell back. Penny plunged past him, and I followed close behind.
Jeeves slammed the door shut the moment Penny and I were inside. The sudden warmth of the hallway was a blessing, and the heavy wooden door shut off the howl of the rising storm. The manor house had been built to keep the world and all its problems outside. Penny leaned against the wall, her eyes closed. Her face was dangerously pale, and she was shuddering violently. I wasn’t. I put the Colonel down, set his head in his lap, and then stretched slowly.
Penny’s eyes snapped open, and she glared at Jeeves. ‘Who locked the bloody door?’
‘I’m sure I don’t know, miss,’ said Jeeves. ‘But you really shouldn’t have gone outside without telling anyone. If I hadn’t happened to be in the hall …’
‘We would have frozen to death,’ I said. ‘And no one would have noticed till it was far too late. Whoever locked that door knew what they were doing.’
Jeeves looked at the headless body, sitting cross-legged and quietly melting into the thick carpeting. He didn’t seem particularly upset, or affected. ‘Mister James … Dead, all this time, and we never knew it.’
&n
bsp; ‘Someone knew,’ I said.
And then people came running down the hall to join us, to see what was happening, attracted by our raised voices. Walter and Melanie emerged from a side door, while Roger and Khan came out of the drawing room. Diana and Sylvia came hurrying down the stairs. They all ended up standing together in the hall, packed tight into a small crowd of anxious faces, staring at the Colonel. The severed head in his lap drew most of their attention. I looked from face to face, but everyone appeared equally shocked and horrified. Except for Jeeves, who seemed to be taking everything in his stride and was studying everyone else as closely as I was.
Walter stepped forward, leaning heavily on his walking stick, jerking his arm free from Melanie’s grasp. He reached out a shaking hand to touch James’ face, and then his hand dropped away. Walter seemed to collapse in on himself, suddenly so much older and frailer. Melanie was quickly there to take hold of him and give him her strength to lean on. She gave all her attention to Walter, didn’t look at the Colonel at all.
Walter looked at me, his eyes full of tears. ‘It can’t be James,’ he said. ‘I can’t have lost my son. Not like this. Not so soon after getting him back …’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
Diana stepped slowly forward, her gaze fixed on the Colonel’s frozen face. ‘What have they done to you, James? I wanted so much to see you again, but not like this. Oh Walter; our baby’s dead …’ She turned to the man who used to be her husband, to comfort him, but Melanie was already there, blocking the way. Diana took in the cold implacable look on her replacement’s face and turned away. Sylvia was quickly there, to hold and comfort her friend.
I turned to Jeeves, as he seemed to be the only one who still had all his wits about him. ‘Jeeves! Where can I put the body? It needs to be somewhere safe and secure and out of the way. With a door we can lock.’