White Gold by Rachel Amphlett

snowstorm.
    As the road levelled out, he could see for miles over the Oxfordshire landscape, the outline of a white horse carved into a chalk hillside, and the bare trees flickering past as he picked up speed. Wind turbines turned lazily on another hill in the distance. He saw a signpost for the next village and slowed down. Harry’s cottage soon appeared on the right-hand side of the road.
    Dan pulled the car up to the kerb a few hundred metres from the house and stepped out. The cottage sat on a narrow lane, with a low hedge on the opposite side of the road leading to a barren field tapering down to a river. He walked over to a wooden gate leading into the field and peered over, shivering, an icy wind biting at his ears. Pulling up the collar of his jacket, he squinted at the forlorn landscape through the light rain, the grey sky sucking the colour out of the day.
    He sniffed in the cold air and glanced down the lane towards the house. A two-storey cottage with white walls, it had a thatched roof and two tall chimneys, smoke appearing from one of them. He wondered how this was going to turn out. He hadn’t seen Harry in over six years now. He felt awkward about turning up out of the blue, but Sarah was right – who better to ask for help?
    Harry Kent, scientist, ex-college lecturer and fellow adventurer. He smiled. He had grown up listening to his father and Harry recounting their exploits around the world – travelling to far-flung places for the university, mining companies and private investors. He smiled at the memories and wondered why he hadn’t returned for so long. He hadn’t seen Harry since they’d crossed paths at Dan’s father’s funeral. Both Harry and Dan’s father had still been angry at Dan for what they felt was throwing his education and future away by joining the army. Dan could never explain to them he just wanted an adventure he could call his own.
    I got that all right , he thought.
    He turned and walked up the lane towards the house. The cottage hid behind a low stone wall, which itself was beginning to disappear under overgrown ivy. A wooden gate hung precariously on one rusty hinge. Glancing up, he spotted movement in the garden.
    ‘Harry?’
    A head, obscured by a Panama-style hat, bobbed up above a ragged rhododendron bush at the sound of his voice. Its owner glanced briefly over the shrub, ducked down again and quickly scurried to the side of the cottage. Dan heard a door slam shut.
    ‘Damn.’
    He wandered over to the garden gate. Opening it carefully in case it disintegrated, he walked up the garden path. He stepped around the uneven pavers that threatened to trip him, and made his way to the front door, then grasped the ornate door knocker. He knocked once, hoping for a response. He knocked again, a little harder, and then stepped back, catching a glimpse of movement in the window to the right of the door.
    An enormous ginger cat had leapt up to investigate the visitor and now sat on the window sill, yellow eyes glaring at him while it occasionally contemplated a front paw with disdain. Dan stepped over and tapped on the glass in front of the cat, which took a swipe at his fingers, banging the window pane as it did so.
    ‘Hello, tiger – do you think you could let me in?’
    Suddenly an arm swept the cat off its perch and a face glared through the window at him. Dan grinned and the face disappeared. Seconds later, the front door swept open.
    A tall man, with thinning white hair and bushy eyebrows above piercing green eyes, stood on the threshold glaring at him.
    ‘Leave the bloody cat alone, you’re a bad enough influence as it is with everyone else you meet for goodness sake!’
    ‘Hi, Harry – does that mean I can come in?’
    The stocky figure turned without answering.
    Dan closed the door behind him. ‘I need your help Harry.’
    Harry glared at him. ‘You always did.’ He stomped off along the hallway, Dan following until they reached a large kitchen.
    ‘I suppose