Ice - Anna Kavan [64]
All at once I became impatient. I had already wasted too much time on him. She was the one I had to talk to. On my way to the door I asked: 'Have you any idea where I'd be likely to find her?' 'I should think she'd be in her room. She's not due here till later.' He limped after me, leaning on the stick. 'I'll show you a short cut through the garden.' I got the impression he was trying to delay me. 'Many thanks: but I can find my own way.' I opened the door and went out; shut it between us before he had time to say anything more.
FIFTEEN
An ice-cold air-stream hit me outside. Dusk was falling, the wind brought crumblings of frozen snow. I did not look for the short cut, but took a path I knew led down to the beach. Frost had killed off the exotic plants I remembered growing beside it: the leaves of palm trees were shrivelled, moribund, blackened, furled tight like rolled umbrellas. I should have been inured to climatic changes; but I again felt I had moved out of ordinary life into an area of total strangeness All this was real, it was really happening, but with a quality of the unreal; it was reality happening in quite a different way.
Snow began to fall steadily, driven into my face by the arctic wind. The cold scorched my skin, froze my breath. To keep the snow out of my eyes I put on the heavy helmet. By the time the beach came in sight, a thick crust of ice had formed on the brim, making it still heavier. Through the white shifting curtain the house dimly appeared ahead; but I could not make out whether waves or a huge uneven expanse of pack ice lay beyond. It was heavy going against the wind. The snow thickened, inexhaustibly falling, incessantly sifting down spreading a sheet of sterile whiteness over the face of the dying world, burying the violent and their victims together in a mass-grave, obliterating the last trace of man and his works.
Suddenly, through the churning white, I saw the girl running away from me, towards the ice. I tried to shout, 'Stop! Come back!' but the polar air corroded my throat, my voice was whirled away by the wind. Snow powder blowing round me like mist, I ran after her. I could hardly see her, hardly see out of my eyes: I had to pause, painfully wipe away the crystals of ice forming on my eyeballs, before I could continue. The murderous wind kept hurling me back, the snow heaped up white hills