The Blame Game by C. J. Cooke

Author:C. J. Cooke [Cooke, C. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-10-18T04:00:00+00:00

28

Michael

20th June 1995

We spend the afternoon at the Mer de Glace, a glacier almost five miles long. I say aloud that it looks like a trail of white feathers winding through black crowns. Luke gives me a slow clap for my poetry while Helen comments on how my description fits the scene exactly. We take a cable car above the glacier to reach an ice grotto, the work of a lapidary. A long, polar-blue tunnel carved into coruscating ice. It is like stepping inside a gigantic blue agate, the walls inside made of quartz instead of ice. And the deeper we get, the architecture shifts to something almost human, almost umbilical, like we are re-entering the womb.

I think better of saying this out loud, given the company I keep.

‘Father Christmas is at the other end, isn’t he?’ Luke jokes as we walk through the tunnel.

‘Do we get to meet Rudolph?’ Theo asks anyone who’ll listen.

We head back to the trail after lunch and spot loads of weird horned creatures eating on a grass ridge.

‘What are they?’ Helen asks aloud, stopping to look at them.

‘It’s like a badger mated with an antelope,’ Luke observes.

‘Chamois,’ Theo says, lighting a roll-up. ‘A species of goat-antelope native to the Alps.’

‘Huh.’ Luke arches an eyebrow at his brother. ‘They dangerous?’

Theo shrugs. ‘I wouldn’t try to cuddle up to one at night.’

Helen coos to the small one that gingerly pads over the rock towards her. Reaching towards a tuft of grass she rips it out and holds it towards the animal. It approaches with its face down and Helen laughs as it takes some of the grass from her hand. Just then, a bigger one – the parent – comes clopping over the stones and we all notice the size of its horns.

‘It’s like the Billy Goats Gruff,’ Theo says.

‘Just watch out for the troll,’ Luke adds. Then, seeing Helen inch closer to the bigger animal, ‘What the hell are you doing?’

She motions to it with another fistful of grass. The smaller one gets closer and I see the bigger animal stamp its feet.

Luke grabs Helen’s arm in a firm grip and pulls her out of the way. I see her wince, as though in pain, though she lets him pull her away from the animal. She shrinks at the look of anger on Luke’s face.

‘You want to get yourself killed?’ Luke shouts.

‘Chill out, babe,’ Theo tells him. ‘You want a smoke?’

Luke stomps off ahead. I notice that Helen is shaken, rubbing her arm.

‘You OK?’ I ask. She flicks the corners of her mouth up but I can tell she’s shaken.

Later, when we stop for a snack, Helen pulls her hair out of its tight bun and tugs her sweater over her head. I notice the spot on her arm where Luke had gripped.

Four long yellow bruises there, spaced close together.

That was why she winced: he gripped a sore spot on her arm.

‘What happened?’ I say lightly.

She pulls her arm to her chest, covers up the bruises.

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