?It?s snowing!? Mike shouted in surprise. His wife joined him in the doorway of the caf?. Their daughter, Mina stood on the patio staring, not upwards at the falling snow but towards Canigou, the sacred mountain of the Pyrenees, looming above the village, its menacing outline gradually being swallowed up by the swirling flakes.
?Mina! You?ll catch your death,? Sylvia called to her daughter. ?Oh, get her to put on some warm clothes,? she pleaded with Mike before turning towards the back of the caf? and the kitchen. ?I have to check the soup. We?ll have a big uptake today. Everyone?s complaining about the cold, it?s so unusual.?
Mike stared at her receding back and sighed. He loved his wife?s down to earth outlook on life and her business acumen. It was thanks to her that their little caf?/restaurant was a success, but couldn?t she see that something was seriously wrong with their adolescent daughter? She had always been a bit of a loner, spending hours in her room reading but since her beloved gran died she barely spoke except in monosyllables and hardly ever went out except to school. Mike knew she blamed them that she was too late to see her gran before her death. They had put off closing the caf? and risking losing business until it was too late. He sometimes wondered if they weren?t paying too high a price for living out their dream of settling in France.
He went out to his daughter who hardly seemed aware that he was there. At last he persuaded her to put on her duffel coat, a hat and scarf but she insisted on staying outside to build a snowman. Mike told her she would be better to wait till the snow stopped falling but he was relieved she wanted to do something so normal even if it was a bit childish. He promised to help her but he was soon too busy to pay much attention to what was going on outside.
In quite a short time the tables and chairs all wore tall white hats and the snow lay thickly. Doggedly, Mina, rolled it to form a big body then a smaller ball for the head, talking quietly all the time. The snowman quickly became solid, even icy and when she formed the face it looked almost sculpted, like a man. Carefully she made his base so that it swept outwards like a long dress and she made a funny shaped hat for his head.
At last the caf? emptied and Mike went out to speak to his daughter. Unaware of her dad behind her, Mina continued whispering to the snowman. When Mike spoke to her she didn?t jump; instead she turned and stared at him as if she didn?t recognise him.
?I?m fine. Not hungry.? She snapped at him when he tried to persuade her indoors.
Worried, Mike called Sylvia to the door.
?She?s calling it Sonny,? he said. ?And she?s talking some strange language to it. Like French but different.?
?Catalan??
?I don?t think so.?
?Oh, Mike! At least she?s doing something fun. Leave her alone.?
Sylvia bustled off to prepare more vegetables for the evening trade.
Mike went out again and tried to joke a little with Mina.
?Do you know what we did when we were young?? he said. ?We made angels.?
He lay down and swung his arms and legs in arcs showing her what to do.
?Come on, Mina, it?s fun.?
At first she scowled and refused but Mike teased her till she gave in. They stood looking at the two angels, one large one smaller, side by side next to the snowman. Mina even had a little smile on her face. Mike tried to hug her but she shrugged him off and the scowl returned.
The evening was twice as busy as lunch. Odile, a neighbour who occasionally looked after Mina came in. Catching Mike?s attention she waved him over to a relatively quiet corner.
?Mina doesn?t want to come with me, Mike. She doesn?t want to leave her snowman.?
Mike shook his head but didn?t want a scene. ?Okay, she can stay here, Odile.?
Odile looked worried. She hesitated before speaking.
?Em? she?s talking to him.?
?Yes, I heard her. She?s calling him Sonny and saying some strange things.?
?No, it?s not Sonny, it?s Sauniere.? Mike shook his head, his expression blank. ?He was cure over a hundred years ago in Rennes-le-Chateau.?
?Right, that?s near here, isn?t it??
?He believed it was possible to open a portal into another life? A parallel universe.?
A bark of laughter met this statement. Odile grabbed his sleeve and whispered into his face.
?Mike, I?ve been worried about Mina for quite a while. She reads about him all the time. She?s obsessed with the idea she can get through the door. That she?ll see her gran again.?
?No, Odile. It?s just teenage angst. I?m worried about her too but she?ll get through this.?
?Didn?t you notice the snowman looks as if he?s wearing a soutane? A priest?s robe,? she continued when Mike looked blank. ?And the hat is the exact shape of a biretta, a priest?s hat. Sauniere believed that the portal is around here.?
?Odile, I?m not religious. I think this is all just guff.? Mike put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ?Thanks for being concerned but I have to get on.?
Customers were clamouring for Mike?s attention. With a last glance through the door at the dark silhouette of his daughter spotlighted by the patio light he hurried to attend them. Mina went on whispering into the frozen face of the snowman.
Later that night, Sylvia and Mike sat down, exhausted. Busy days like this were rare in the winter; they brought a welcome income but were very tiring with no extra help.
?I saw Odile earlier,? Sylvia said. ?Did she say she would take Mina to our house? I can?t face having to wake her up and take her home.?
Mike?s face paled. He jumped up and hurried outside. There was no sign of Mina.
?No need to panic,? he muttered. He staggered and almost fell when he looked down. Only one angel, the large one, was outlined beside the snowman. The snowman gleamed icily, an enigmatic smile on his face.
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