Lee Weeks: Dead of Winter

‘Hope you didn’t get there too soon. Was he still alive?’

‘He had a pulse. I don’t know how. He was covered in rats. They cut him down but he was dead before he got to hospital. You know that I need you to hand yourself in.’

‘I know. I’ll be there in the next day or so. Just have to tidy things up here.’

‘I understand.’

Carmichael put the phone down and took out Louise’s journal from his bag. It was still stained with blood. He had recovered the journal from the floor of the bedroom she had shared with Sophie at Rose Cottage. He had read most of it. He had read to the point where she said she knew he had had an affair. He had never been able to read beyond that. Today he stood at the window overlooking the yard and opened the next page.

Callum, if ever you come to read this journal I want you to know that I love you more than life itself. I love you for all your faults, your weaknesses and I was born to love you. I forgive you for being unfaithful to me. I know you did it because you have so many demons in your soul that need to be defeated, but I tell you, Callum. . I will be by your side all along the way. For every demon that appears I will be your angel. Me and Sophie. . we were sent to save you, Callum. . all my love, your wife Louise.

Carmichael went outside and knelt to examine the latest in the fox’s kills: a newborn lamb dragged from its mother’s teat.

Bridget stood next to it.

‘Another dead one. .’

‘It must be the vixen; since I killed her mate, she has to be the provider. I’ll see to it.’

Carmichael picked up the rifle and walked through the yard. Tor snorted into the air as he passed. He nuzzled into Anna’s hand as she brushed his coat and slipped him a Polo mint. He took it so gently it made Carmichael smile and shake his head; the number of times that horse had bitten him.

He climbed over the gate and turned back to see Bridget watching him. She was standing in the first rays of sunshine. She had buckets of feed in her hand, steaming in the morning air. She had taken off her hat. He paused as he climbed the gate and she stopped where she was. He had never realized how beautiful she was until that moment. She blushed and turned away smiling.

He jumped down the other side of the gate and walked upwards across the field, the grass yellow beneath the melted snow. It would return before long, this was just a little promise of spring but it was still a long way off. Everything would happen in due course.

He tracked his familiar route, keeping to the outside of the field and heading up towards his favourite place. He knew the fox would favour the far side, sheltered from the blasting wind. There the vixen would have made her home.

Silently he kept downwind of the place where he knew the fox had made a den. He steadied the gun and stood and listened. The first birdsong in weeks made him want to cry. The sun dazzled him for a moment. The breeze, still cold, brought the sound of something else. Carmichael crouched low and inched forward. Ten feet away he saw the cubs playing in the sunshine; beside them their mother lay on her side, resting from her feed and feeling her bones warm with the sun. Carmichael looked back down towards the farm. He heard Anna’s laughter ringing up to his ears and he smiled to himself. He didn’t realize he was crying. He closed his eyes for a second as he steadied his aim and placed the end of the barrel into his mouth.

Bridget put her hand on Tor’s neck to calm him as the sound of gunshot rang through the air. Anna stopped laughing. Bridget buried her face in Tor’s neck.

Carmichael opened his eyes and looked towards the fallen tree trunk on the mount; blinded temporarily by the low winter sun he saw the figures running towards him and heard the laughter as clear as church bells. He got to his knees and opened his arms as he looked up into Louise’s face and scooped Sophie into his arms.