David looked up from the canvas that he was painting on the floor to check on the flurrying snow outside. He didn’t usually start getting twitchy until four-thirty, and he always tried to hold off drinking until after five, surreptitiously from a bottle of vodka, because Katherine didn’t think he had anything other than a few glasses of wine at dinner. But he was worried about the snow getting worse, as he’d finished the vodka the previous day. What’s more, he’d noticed at lunchtime that the wine rack was empty except for a few bottles of alcohol-free stuff that Katherine insisted upon buying. He was already prickling with sweat at the thought of a dry night.
‘You’re not going out?’ Katherine said when he went downstairs.
‘Why not?’
‘It said on the radio not to make unnecessary journeys.’
‘Going out for wine is not unnecessary.’
‘Can’t you go for one evening without a drink?’
‘Of course I can. I could also go without eating. It’s just that I prefer not to. Anyway, the car needs a run; it’s not good to leave it standing for long in this weather. Have you seen my phone?’
‘Why d’you want your phone if you’re only going to the village?’
He wondered if she’d hidden it. She probably knew he’d ring Sara while he was out.
‘That’s true,’ he said, thinking he could use the telephone box at the crossroads. As far as he was concerned that telephone box was the one and only advantage of living in such a place. It had presumably been retained because of the poor signal.
‘But you ought to take it, just in case.’
‘In case of what? I can walk there and back in less than an hour.’ He wouldn’t have taken it now even if she’d held it out to him.
It was snowing quite heavily by the time he got outside. He was right about the car, it took an age for the engine to fire up. Part of him was glad that he was being proved right, but not when he began to think he might have to walk to the village. That would have meant going back inside for his gloves and hat, which he didn’t want to do because it would probably have led to an argument. But the motor finally caught. He smiled and waved at Katherine, who had been watching from the kitchen window.
The new snow settling on the frozen ground made it tricky getting out of the yard and it annoyed him that Katherine was still watching, especially when the car skidded and nearly hit the gatepost. The so-called ‘all-weather’ tyres that he’d had fitted were next to useless. He’d been meaning to go back to the garage and complain. In fact, today could be the day. He could fill up and complain at the same time and maybe get a new battery, or at least order one. Doing that would be a good excuse if he was late back; Sara was bound to rabbit on.
He was surprised how quickly the snow was settling. Going down the hill onto the main road, the car skidded again and he narrowly avoided finishing up in the ditch. There were no other cars on the road, but that was nothing unusual. Where the hell would anyone be going?
He decided to ring Sara on the way back. Best to get his priorities right by picking up the booze first. He wondered how Sara was managing. She hated being alone. That could be tedious at times. At least Katherine was independent. If only she was as much fun as Sara. (Why was everything so bloody complicated!) He’d wanted Katherine to accompany him to the village the other day and she’d refused because the passenger door was jammed and she didn’t like climbing over the driver’s seat. ‘It’s undignified,’ she’d said. Sara would have climbed over the seat with him sitting in it. And then one thing would have led to another and they would probably never have got out of the yard. He laughed at the thought.
Even before he got to the garage, he could see that it was closed. ‘Bloody typical!’ he said. ‘A bit of cold weather and everything grinds to a halt.’
Although it was an irritation, it didn’t really matter, except if Sara kept him talking. He could fill up and do his complaining another day. It would be no big deal if he ran out of petrol. He wouldn’t mind walking back in the snow with a bottle of vodka to keep him company.
Katherine would be horrified if she knew how much he was drinking. He felt bad for deceiving her, always pretending that two or three glasses of wine was enough, and sneaking the empty vodka bottles out of the cottage and throwing them in bins around the village. It was a shabby way to live, especially as it was solely due to her contacts that after all these years he had been offered an exhibition. Whether it would be worth it in the end was another matter, but he didn’t want to think about that. And it had been her idea to rent the cottage for six months, so that he could work without distractions. She’d said she wanted to encourage his talent. But was that true? Or did she simply want to keep him away from Sara? Although he was flattered by her faith in him, in moments of doubt he thought he might be better off forgetting about the exhibition and going back to Sara. It was true that Kathy was better for the artist, but what if the artist was just a deluded drunk? No, he couldn’t afford to think that. He should be more appreciative of Katherine, admit how much he owed her. If there was any breaking off to be done, he should do it with Sara. Make a new start with Katherine. He shouldn’t repay her trust by cheating on her.
Despite the deteriorating weather, he had no problem reaching the village.
‘Bloody hell!’ The shop was closed. ‘What is wrong with these people?’
Fortunately, Mr. Daniels, the shopkeeper, lived on the premises. David got out of the car and banged on the shop door. He didn’t feel bad about getting Daniels to open up; as far as he was concerned, the whole village needed waking up. He was glad he didn’t live permanently in the countryside. Sara had thought he was mad to come even for six months. Perhaps she was right. The ever-increasing flurries of snow made him bang all the harder.
Eventually, Daniels appeared. He was obviously surprised to have a customer.
‘You shouldn’t be driving on a day like this,’ he said.
‘Someone has to keep the world going round.’
David decided on just a half-bottle of vodka with the two bottles of wine. He wanted to prove to himself that he was no lush, while at the same time thinking he could always come out again before the weekend.
‘Seriously, you want to make tracks for home, you could find yourself in trouble.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve got Charlie’s special ‘all-weather’ tyres fitted.’
‘They’re no good this weather. You need a snow plough and chains in this.’
‘Yeah well, that’s the countryside for you.’
The snow was coming down heavier than ever by the time he left the shop and he thought maybe Daniels had a point, he ought to get back. Katherine would be worried. Even so, ten minutes later, he stopped at the phone box at the crossroads. He took the vodka in with him and had a sip before he dialled Sara’s number. He got her answer phone. She would probably claim to be at work, but David knew she was more likely having fun somewhere. Probably with another man. The thought annoyed him and in a sudden fit of jealousy he thought again about breaking off with her. He decided to phone back and leave a message, telling her it was over. He stood there in the phone box for ten minutes, alternately stamping his feet and sipping vodka, while wondering how to tell her, whether just to blurt out that they were finished or to tell her gently that it was over between them. In the end, unable to settle on what tone to take, he decided not to bother. He told himself that it wasn’t right to break off with someone after two years by leaving a message on an answerphone. Besides, what if he changed his mind?
He was glad to get back in the warm car. But the snow was coming down so heavily, he could hardly see where he was going. He was amazed how different everywhere looked. He didn’t recognise anywhere with all the snow covering the bushes and trees. Then the windscreen wipers became clogged and stopped working. He had to stop and get out. His foot sank into the soft snow by the side of the road and he slipped and fell over. Although mildly amused, he found it quite difficult to get up again, and by the time he was back on his feet, there was snow up his sleeves and down the collar of his jacket. He quickly wiped the windscreen and got back in the car. His hands were freezing, he should have been wearing gloves. He sat there for a while with the hot air from the heater blasting him. And he had another hit of vodka, after which he felt better, more relaxed. Except now he wished he had bought a large bottle.
When he put the car into gear, the wheels started spinning. He tried gunning the engine, but couldn’t get any traction on the snow and ice. ‘Fucking all weather fucking tyres!’ he shouted. He looked in vain to see if there was anything in the car he could use to put under the wheels. Losing patience, he yanked up the carpet, both from under his feet and from the passenger side. Then he got out of the car again and, while cursing the weather and the car and the sodding countryside, he stuffed the carpet angrily under the wheels.
Although he was in a filthy mood, cold, and wetter than ever, he was relieved to find that when he put the car into gear, it moved forward. He had a good slug of vodka to celebrate.
The snow soon began impairing the wipers again but there was no way he was going to get out again. He drove with his face pressed up against the windscreen – and still he could hardly see. It was lucky there was no other traffic.
Even though he was going slowly, he thought it seemed to be taking too long to get back. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t come to his turning. He was sure the road before the turning wasn’t this long. He kept on for a while longer, until finally admitting to himself that he was lost. He stopped the car. He couldn’t believe his stupidity in going past the turning. How did he do that? He sat there for a while, trying to remember where he had gone wrong. Meanwhile, the snow completely obliterated the view of his surroundings.
‘What am I doing just sitting here!’
He decided to leave the car and walk back. He was sure he’d recognise things once he was outside. After all, the cottage couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes away. He had one more hefty hit of vodka and opened the door.
But the biting wind attacked him as soon as he stepped outside and it was impossible to see more than a few feet through the impenetrable curtain of snow. He’d never known anything like it. And the snow that had settled and drifted was so deep, he sank up to his knees. Even if he could have seen anything, he couldn’t walk in that, not without snowshoes. Trying in vain to shake the snow off his clothes, he got back in the car to assess the situation. He sat there with the heater on and thought how ridiculous it was to be stuck and lost so close to the cottage.
But it could have been worse. At least he was warm in the car. And he had the vodka. As he wasn’t sure of his position on the road, he turned the hazard lights on, while considering what to do. There seemed to be nothing for it but to wait until it stopped snowing – then at least he’d be able to see where he was going. He had a stiff swig of vodka and thought it was a pity that Sara wasn’t with him. He wouldn’t have minded being stuck with her. After taking yet another drink he closed his eyes in the cosy warmth in order to think about her.
When he woke up it was cold and dark, and unbelievably quiet. It took him a moment to recall where he was. The car was covered in snow. He couldn’t remember turning the engine off but it had stopped and the temperature had dropped alarmingly. He looked at his watch – he must have been asleep for over an hour. He went to switch the engine back on, but the starter motor made no more than a sickening click. The battery was completely dead. In dumb amazement, he realised that the battery wouldn’t have been charging without the engine running, and he’d left the lights and heater on! He shook his head in disbelief. And even though he acknowledged that the battery was dead, he kept turning the key. He refused to accept that the car wouldn’t start. There had to be enough power. There had to be!
Attempting to warm himself with another hit of vodka, he was dismayed to see that he had nearly drained the bottle.
He wondered if he should try walking back after all. He didn’t know what else he could do. Anything was better than being entombed in a snow-covered car. He couldn’t imagine being stuck there all night, especially with no more vodka. His main concern was the cold; it was already freezing; he could hardly stop shivering.
The sleeping bag! It came to him just like that. The sleeping bag that Katherine always kept in the boot for just such an emergency. He shook his head in amazement at not having remembered it earlier. Only Katherine would think of something that sensible. He remembered making fun of her for putting it in the boot, but not any more. Hare-brained Sara would probably have put sex toys in the back.
He was laughing at the thought as he went to open the door. Except it wouldn’t open, at least, not more than a couple of inches – just enough for a blast of cold air to blow some snow into the car. It was as though someone outside was pushing against the door. It was the snow – it had drifted up to the window. He tried to open the window, but because the battery was dead he couldn’t do that either. He scrambled over to the passenger side and put his feet against the driver’s door. It was no use; it was too far away for him to get any purchase on it. He climbed back into the driver’s seat and put his shoulder to the door and pushed as hard as he could. The door moved less than another inch. He considered trying to break the window, but if he couldn’t open the boot, he’d get even colder. He finally decided it was best to wait.
He was sure that Katherine would realise that he was in trouble. Maybe she had already contacted someone? Sensible Katherine would save the day. He wouldn’t even have been surprised if she had suddenly appeared through the snow. She was like that. Or maybe she’d leave it to the emergency services? Whatever she did, it would be the right thing. He smiled at the thought. He only wished he had something other than thoughts to keep warm. He was shivering uncontrollably.
It occurred to him that without Katherine sounding the alarm he could freeze to death. He decided there and then that he would stop cheating on her. ’That’s the least I can do for her saving me,’ he thought. ‘I’ll also stop drinking, and work harder at my painting to repay her faith in me. Yes, I’ll show her and prove to everyone that I am the painter that she believes in.’
He hoped she wouldn’t be too much longer.
