Today had been especially bad: the skies were overcast and heavy with snow; the river was frozen over with thick grey ice; the big house was cold and seemed invaded by icy draughts that followed Shukshin everywhere. And for the first time in as long as he could remember – or at least the first time that he had noticed it – there was a strange and ominous quiet about everything, so that sounds seemed muffled as if by deep snow, though little had fallen as yet. The ticking of an old grandfather clock sounded heavy, dull – even the warped floorboards seemed to creak a little less volubly – and all in all it had put Shukshin’s nerves in a very bad way. It was as if the house held its breath and waited for something.
That ‘something’ came at 2:30 p.m., just as Shukshin poured himself a glass of iced vodka and sat down in his study before an electric fire, looking gloomily out through neglected, fly-specked windows on a garden frozen into white crystal. It came with the nerve-jangling clamour of his telephone.
Heart hammering, he put down the drink he’d almost spilled, snatched up the handset and said, ‘Shukshin.’
‘Stepfather?’ Harry Keogh’s voice seemed very close.
‘It’s Harry here. I’m in Edinburgh staying with friends. How’ve you been keeping?’
Shukshin choked back the anger which came on the instant, boiling to the surface. So that was it: this damned spawn of an ESPer was here, close at hand, sending out his psychic aura to crush Shukshin’s sensitive spirits! He bared his teeth, glared at the telephone in his hand, fought down the urge to curse and rage. ‘Harry? Is that you? In Edinburgh, you say? How thoughtful of you to call me.’ You bastard! Your mutant aura is hurting me!
‘But you sound so well!’ the other sounded surprised. ‘When I saw you last you seemed so -‘
‘Yes, I know.’ Shukshin tried not to snarl. ‘I hadn’t been too well, Harry, but I’m fine now. Was there something you wanted?’ / could eat your heart, you unnatural little swine!
‘Why, yes. I wondered if perhaps I might come to see you. Maybe we could talk a little about my mother. Also, I’ve got my skates with me. If the river’s frozen I could do some skating. I’m only up here for a few days more, you see, and I -‘
‘No!’ Shukshin snapped, and at once checked himself. Why not get it over with? Why not get this shadow from the past out of the way once and for always? Whatever it was that Keogh knew or suspected – however he had come by Shukshin’s ring, which the Russian had believed lost in the river, and whatever the psychic link between this youth and his mother, which apparently bound them still – why not bring it to an end right here and now? Common-sense stood no chance against the bloodlust which surged in Shukshin now.
‘Stepfather?’
‘I meant only – Harry, my nerves still aren’t up to much, I’m afraid. Living here all alone – you know, I’m not used to company. Of course I’d like to see you, and
the river is perfect just now for skating, but I really couldn’t do with a houseful of young people, Harry.’
‘Oh, no, Stepfather, I didn’t intend bringing anyone with me. I wouldn’t think of imposing on you to that extent. Why, my friends don’t even know I have a relative up here! No, chiefly I’d just like to visit the house again and go on the river. I’d like to skate where my mother used to skate, that’s all.’
That again! The bastard did know something – or at least suspected something – definitely! So he wanted to skate, did he? On the river, where his mother skated. Shukshin’s face twisted into a leer. ‘Well in that case . . . when can I expect you?’
‘In about, oh, two hours?’ came Harry’s answer.
‘Very well,’ said Shukshin. ‘About 4:30 to 5:00 p.m., then. I shall look forward to it, Harry.’
And he put the phone down before an utterly animal growl of hatred could burst from his writhing mouth and betray his true feelings: Oh, how I shall look-forward -to – it!