|
Weather - Third Prize Winner
Third prize goes to Mary Green of Seaford, East Sussex. A well balanced story which subtly unfolds and carries the title theme throughout.
Jagged Icicles
‘It’s for you.’ Her mother sounded aggrieved. ‘Something about a book you ordered.’
Standing in the hall, listening intently to the voice at the other end of the telephone, Anna felt her body temperature begin to rise. Above the sound of her own heartbeat she became aware of her burning cheeks and of her skin, prickling with sweat beneath her cotton shift. Unconsciously, she trailed her damp fingers down the side of her face before picking up the pencil that was attached to the side of the telephone by a piece of string. It slipped between her fingers making her writing slow and childlike.
‘Sorry, could you say that again, please.’ Standing hunched over the receiver with her back to the kitchen door, she kept her voice low. Shortly after her initial ‘hello?’ she’d heard the kitchen door click open.
‘Yes, I’ll be there,’ she assured the caller, ‘and thank you,’ she added wondering at the dullness of her own voice. But she had buried hope, along with its accompanying pain, in a deep grave.
‘Thank you.’ she repeated before slowing lowering the receiver.
Now she felt cold. Her hand was stiff and her fingers ached as she slowly unclenched them. Shivering she crossed her arms, rubbing her goose pimpled flesh.
An emotion, too complex and arresting to be pinned down under a single heading, had sent her body temperature plummeting. Raging anger lay strangely flat over her limbs, whilst she calmly acknowledged betrayal and deceit.
Why rail against something that in another dimension you’d known all along?
This combination, forged with the freedom to act that it endowed, rushed through her like a winter wind, cleansing her mind, sharpening her intent.
As Anna replaced the receiver and turned around the kitchen door clicked shut.
Up in her bedroom she reached down the small black suitcase. The dust-covered lid reminded her of how much time had past since she’d placed it on top of the wardrobe. So many lost months since her return from hospital.
Concentrate. You have to pack. But what to take – wash things, nightclothes?
The promised break in the heat wave had not transpired and the nights were oppressive, making sleep intermittent and sweaty. Rummaging through her drawers she found the oversized T-shirt he’d given her. Laying it out on the bed, she smoothed her hands over the creased pattern of jagged icicles and traced her fingers carefully around the letters of Ice Queen. Gathering it up she pressed it to her face before rolling it into a long sausage and tucking it around the inside edge of the case. She’d never discovered whether he’d had it specially printed or just picked it up somewhere.
‘Does it matter?’ he’d raised his pale eyebrows.
No, it didn’t. Like many things that passed between them it did not need defining; that was what mattered.
They met on the ice. That winter the council had installed a temporary skating rink in the cathedral grounds. She’d only meant to go down and have a quick look.
‘It’s great! Really good fun!’
The other girls’ enthusiasm had been hard to resist.
She didn’t go out often; easier to stay at home than carry the guilt of leaving her mother alone all evening as well as during the day. But when she saw the sparkling ice she found herself caught up in the seasonal excitement. An infectious enjoyment filled the air and she allowed herself to drift along with the others into the queue where she had exchanged her ankle boots for a pair of blue skates and gone giggling uncertainly onto the rink.
After a few circuits, exhilarated by the frosty night air and party atmosphere she’d abandoned the safety of the barrier edge and launched out, no hands. Seconds later her feet were travelling faster than the rest of her. As she began to lose her balance, and just before she started to fall, two bare strong arms scooped her up and before she realised what was happening she was back safely by the barrier. Looking up she saw a large open face with flushed cheeks, fair stubble and smiling blue eyes. ‘Name’s Colin, I’ll take you round if you like.’ The voice was deep and the hand offered proved cool and reassuring. ‘Try to keep your head up. That’s it.’
By the time the council came to remove the rink Anna was able to skate forwards, stop, and skate backwards.
‘You’re a natural.’
She’d glowed in his praise and wondered how she’d ever lived without him. There was solidity in the way he was that gave her courage. Never feeling the cold, never late, always near at hand, he changed her, and her life. The only shadow to fall over their happiness was her mother’s obvious dislike, and disapproval, of Colin.
‘Well, I know what your father would have said’, was her tart reaction when Anna told her that she and Colin were going on holiday together. Her father had died when she was eight and her memories of him had grown misty, but firmly believing he would want her to be happy she ignored her mother’s words.
White ice brought them together, had black ice split them apart?
After the accident, while she lay recovering in hospital, the question never left her. Neither did her mother, who held Colin totally responsible. Yes, he had been driving, but it was an accident. So why had he abandoned her? Surely he knew that she didn’t blame him?
‘You’re lucky to be alive,’ they told her and Anna believed them until she looked in the mirror and saw why Colin had not been to see her.
Snapping the case shut she lifted it off the bed and made her way downstairs. The kitchen door had been opened wide and she could see her mother bending busily over the sink.
What was there to say?
Colin and she had deliberately and cruelly been kept apart. She didn’t know the man who had telephoned but she believed him when he’d said he was a friend of Colin’s. Just as she believed him when he told that her mother had blocked all of Colin’s efforts to visit her in hospital or contact her.
‘Was that what you wanted?’ he’d asked. ‘Colin deserves to know the truth.’
So do I, thought Anna, quietly closing the front door behind her.
The break in the weather came as she stepped from the train, drenching her in minutes. By the time she gathered herself together all the taxies had disappeared and she had a long chilly wait before one returned.
Pressing her forehead against the hotel room windowpane she stares out at the wet pavement.
I shouldn’t have come.
Trailing her fingers down her cheek she wonders where he will look when they meet. She’s learnt that people find it hard to face her. Their eyes stray, trying to make sense of what they’re seeing.
But oh, how I love you.
Through the watery window she sees him as he rounds the corner. Bare armed and oblivious to the rain he disappears into the hotel entrance beneath her.
Slowly she walks to the middle of the room where she stands shivering.
She hears the knock on the door, her own voice saying, ‘Come in.’
As he enters and moves towards her she sees his blue eyes looking straight into hers.
Back To
|
