Free A Cold Season by Alison Littlewood Page A

son’s name.
    She reached Ben’s side and took his arm. His eyes narrowed and he fought, hitting out with his other hand. His splayed fingers caught in her hair and Cass felt strands of it rip from her skull, but she didn’t care; she was toobusy running her fingers over his arm, checking for blood, for the holes Captain’s teeth must have made.
    There was nothing, only a string of drool that had dribbled across his coat, darkening the red cloth so that it looked like blood.
    Ben twisted, dragging his arm away. ‘Get off me. Get off .’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Bert said, over and over, a monotone background to everything. ‘I’m sorry. I never— I never—’
    ‘Ben, are you all right?’
    ‘I don’t think ’e got ’im; ’e just tried it on, that’s all. He were ’appen messin’ about, weren’t you, Captain?’
    Ben stepped back, glaring at the dog. That gleam in his eyes, the cold look of the evening before, was back.
    Something inside Cass clenched and she turned to Bert in a fury. ‘Get that dog away from my son! He’s dangerous. He ought to have a muzzle.’
    Even as she saw Bert’s shocked face she pictured them together, Ben and the dog, playing with the old green ball in the park, the dog waddling after the ball, slow but game, tail wagging furiously.
    ‘Sorry,’ Bert said again. The old man stared down at his dog, his face pale, lost in disbelief. ‘Captain,’ he said. ‘ Captain .’
    Cass felt for Ben’s hand. He pulled away but she caught and held it. She skirted Bert and the dog, keeping her son behind her.
    ‘Miss,’ said Bert.
    She turned and saw that his eyes were pale and more watery than ever. Brim full. ‘I’m so sorry—’
    ‘I’m sure … ’ she began, but she didn’t know how to continue, and anyway, how could she tell him it was all right? It could have been far from all right. Cass closed her mouth and walked away, leading Ben towards the road.
    When she had put some distance between them, she stopped and squatted down in front of Ben. ‘Are you all right, love?’
    Ben nodded. His lips were pressed together, almost vanished into his face.
    ‘We can go home again if you want. Did the dog hurt you?’
    He shook his head.
    ‘Just your feelings?’
    Ben’s eyes narrowed, and that light was back in them. He screwed up his face and shook his head. There was hatred in his look.
    ‘I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He’s an old dog, he must have been startled. We’ll have to be careful, won’t we, if we see him again.’
    Ben blew out his breath with a tch . Cass felt the warmth of it on her face.
    ‘All right,’ she whispered. ‘You’re the boss.’
    This would normally draw a smile, but Ben didn’t even look at her. He stared into the distance until Cass straightened and they began walking towards the school once more.
    As they approached the gates, Ben pulled away and bounded off towards a group of children. He tapped onsomeone’s back and they put their heads together, gossiping with their hands cupped around their words. The other boy looked up, and Cass saw without surprise that it was Damon. She smiled at him, but he just stared at her.
    Ben waved, ran with Damon to the entrance and was gone. Cass stopped. She could not see anyone she knew except one of the mothers Sally had introduced her to. Moira? Myra? She had long hair that hung loose, very straight down her back. Cass caught her eye and smiled. The other woman’s eyes slid away and she bent to kiss her child on the cheek. Cass pursed her lips. She was sure Myra had seen her.
    Mr Remick appeared in the doorway and walked towards her, his arms spread in a welcoming gesture. ‘Nice to see you,’ he called out.
    ‘You too,’ said Cass, and found she meant it. She looked up at him. It struck her that his face shouldn’t be attractive: the hollowed cheeks, the nose with its slight hook. His skin was dry, a little uneven, almost pockmarked, but his eyes – they were beautiful.
    Cass shook her head and