A Sixpenny Christmas (41 page)

They had returned to the kitchen, filled their hot water
bottles and drunk their cocoa before Mr Pritchard emerged from the bedroom, looking anxious. ‘Can’t find Mam’s medicine, though I think I’ve looked through every bag and basket we brought back with us,’ he said worriedly. ‘She says not to fret, missing it once won’t hurt, but the doctor said she must have it twice a day.’ He turned to his son, his forehead wrinkling in perplexity. ‘What’ll we do if the hospital didn’t put it into our luggage? That worried I am, Rhodri my son!’

Nonny cut in before Rhodri had had a chance to answer. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Pritchard. My mother checked over every single thing she was given by the hospital and packed it away in a Gladstone bag. I’m very much afraid, though, that it may have been left behind at Cefn Farm. Still, that’s no problem: Rhodri can get into the jeep and drive down to fetch the stuff, or I could saddle up one of the horses and ride down for it. But do tell me – how did you know that your wife said one missed dose of her medication didn’t matter?’

The worried frown had been smoothed from Mr Pritchard’s face as Nonny talked, and now he gave her his goblin grin. ‘Understand most of what she says I do,’ he explained. ‘Married fifty years, we’ve been; words we don’t need when a glance can say it all.’

Nonny was delighted with his reply, showing as it did the depth of the old couple’s love for each other, but nevertheless she shook a reproving head. ‘Mrs P is wrong, though, Mr P. The hospital thinks the medication is important and the doctors there know more than we shall ever do. As I said, either Rhodri or myself will bring it back in time for her to take the necessary dose before she sleeps. Now you start getting yourself ready for bed,
and by the time you’re between the sh— blankets, I mean, we’ll be mixing up the medication and feeding it to your good lady.’

Mr Pritchard laughed at this description of his wife, but was clearly greatly relieved, and apart from renewing the cups of cocoa which the old couple had already drunk, he said nothing more. In the firelight’s glow, Nonny raised her brows at her companion. ‘Well, which is it to be? The snow’s going to drift, you know, so it might be better and easier if we took to the horses. An animal can go round a drift or even take to the fields, but the jeep has to stick to the track, which may already be impassable. Mind you, I don’t believe it is, because the storm hadn’t long started when we went round the outbuildings.’ Nonny saw that Rhodri was shaking his head, and raised her brows. ‘What’s up? Don’t you agree that one of us should go down to Cefn Farm? I know we haven’t searched your parents’ baggage ourselves but your da was so anxious that your mam should have her medicine that I’m sure he’s gone through it with a fine-tooth comb.’

‘It’s not that,’ Rhodri said. ‘What worries me is that your mother may already have discovered she still has the medicine and be sending poor Rhys up with it. If he takes Wanderer they’ll undoubtedly choose to come by the fields, but which fields? We could easily miss one another if I took the jeep, and if I took one of the horses and chose the same route as your father we could still miss each other with the blizzard and the dark and everything.’

Nonny sank into a chair and put her head in her hands, but when Rhodri put a comforting arm round her shoulders she pushed him away. ‘Don’t! I’m trying to
think,’ she said crossly. ‘If it’s only been snowing for an hour, you’ll still be able to see the ruts and puddles of the lane. But later it will be really treacherous, and you’re right: whichever way we choose we can’t be certain of meeting Dad. Look, the only really important thing is to get Mrs P’s medication. My parents will have exactly the same dilemma that we’ve got, but knowing my dad he’ll have thought of the obvious solution; he’ll think you’ll take the jeep in order to get there more quickly so it’s likely he’ll take our tractor. It’s the nearest thing to “new” that we’ve got on the farm,’ she added with a chuckle. ‘All the other big machinery is shared, as you know very well. So shall we bank on their having realised the medication is still at Cefn Farm and Dad’s hurrying up here aboard the tractor to hand it over? In which case we simply sit and wait, knowing that Dad will arrive with it just as soon as he can.’

The two young people stared at one another across the kitchen table. Then Rhodri shrugged. ‘Tell you what, we’ll wait for half an hour and if no one has turned up in that time, I’ll drive the jeep down to your place. But I’m sure . . .’

Even as he spoke they heard the guttural roar of a tractor as it came slowly up the steep and rocky track. Nonny was so delighted that she hurled herself into Rhodri’s arms. ‘The cavalry have arrived,’ she squeaked.

Rhys had not enjoyed the drive up the rugged mountain track between Cefn Farm and Cae Hic. He had been asleep in front of the range when Molly had shaken him awake to explain what had happened, and though he completely agreed with her that the medicine must be
taken straight to the Pritchards’ he had said it in a sort of daze, and could not help hoping that the Pritchards would realise the medicine was missing. If they did so he was sure Rhodri would jump into the jeep and come charging down the track, but when he voiced this thought to Molly, though she patted his arm consolingly, she also shook her head. ‘He might think you or Chris were already on your way,’ she explained. ‘Because of the snow – it’s still blowing a blizzard – he might think you will saddle Wanderer and go over the fields. If so you might miss each other. Which do you think you ought to do, my love? If you decide on Wanderer, I’ll go and tack him up.’ She peered doubtfully through the kitchen window. ‘Only for my own part I think the tractor is the best bet.’

Rhys nodded reluctantly. If he took the tractor he could be there and back in half the time, and soon tucked up in his cosy bed. And one did not have to tack up a tractor but merely climb aboard, start the engine and set off. He said as much to Molly, who nodded.

‘Shall I wake Chris? He could go instead of you.’

Rhys laughed. He was beginning to wake up properly, and knew that if Chris took the tractor he and Molly would simply worry themselves sick in case he had an accident. Besides, Chris had been so tired that he had gone straight to bed as soon as he and Lana had checked the stock. So Rhys gave Molly a kiss and patted her cheek. ‘Don’t be daft, cariad. Now where’s this medication?’ He had already donned his thickest coat and was winding a big muffler round his neck, jamming his cap down on his head and stepping into his boots.

‘It’s here, in this brown paper bag,’ Molly said, flourishing it. ‘I’ll tuck it well down into your pocket,
where it will be safe from the wind and snow.’ She looked up at him, her eyes bright with love. ‘You will drive carefully, won’t you, my darling? Tell you what, why don’t you spend the night at the Pritchards’ and come home when they do tomorrow?’

Rhys pinched her chin. ‘Well, for one thing it would mean sleeping on the kitchen floor, which I can’t say appeals to me much, and for another the journey home, being all downhill, will be a piece of cake. I doubt it will take me more than half an hour at the most. Now stop fretting and have a nice hot cup of cocoa ready for me when I get back, because I don’t intend to linger. Oh, and I’ll have some of that gingerbread you made the other day.’

As he said the last words he was pushing open the kitchen door, and heard Molly gasp behind him as the gale tried to slam it in his face whilst snow swirled in. Rhys felt the flakes splatter his cheeks and in a way was glad of it, since it woke him up completely. He let the door crash to behind him, fought his way across to the cart shed where the tractor stood, and presently set off into the storm.

It was going to be a rough ride, there was no doubt about that. The faltering beam of the tractor’s headlight scarcely penetrated the whirling flakes, but Rhys knew the track well, so he changed into a low gear and crawled on. In fact he was surprised when he suddenly realised that the faint light he could see ahead was coming from Cae Hic, for so total had been his concentration that he had not realised the journey was almost over. He drew up alongside the door and it shot open before he was even down from his seat, to reveal his daughter’s
beaming face. ‘Get inside, Dad!’ she shrieked. ‘We’ve got the kettle on.’

Rhys crossed to the door in a couple of strides, entered the kitchen and slammed the door behind him. Then he grinned at Nonny, holding out her hand for the medication, and at Rhodri, pouring hot water into a large mug. ‘If that’s for me, thanks but no thanks,’ he said breezily. ‘I can’t stop; it’s hell out there and the sooner I’m back in my own bed the better.’

Rhodri began to apologise, saying it was their carelessness in not checking which had led to their leaving the medicine behind, but Rhys shook his head.

‘No, Rhodri, it was most certainly not your fault,’ he said firmly. ‘Molly got it mixed up with her Christmas presents, and by the time she discovered it the storm was well under way. But all’s well that ends well; the instructions are in the bag, so the sooner you get a dose into your mam the better.’ He turned and gave his daughter a pat on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you both in the morning for breakfast. Don’t be late; it’s bacon, kidneys, and scrambled egg. You wouldn’t want to miss that.’

‘Very true,’ Nonny agreed. She looked hard at her father. ‘Dad, you’re soaked. I’m sure Mr Pritchard would lend you a dry cap and muffler, though the rest of his things would be much too small . . .’

Rhys grinned. ‘No point, love. I’d be wet through again in five minutes. Now you get yourself off to bed so you’re ready to come down in the jeep tomorrow morning.’ He hesitated, looking from Nonny to Rhodri. ‘But if this storm keeps up you’re not to attempt the journey to Cefn Farm, not with the old lady I mean. She truly mustn’t go out with the gale blowing the way it is, and by then
the snow will be drifting; it’s already started in places. I promise you that if it’s still as bad as this . . .’ he indicated the snow which they could see racing past the window, ‘then Mum will pack a basket with your Christmas dinners in it and either Chris or myself will bring it up in the tractor. Understood?’ Rhodri glanced at Nonny, and Rhys suddenly realised that Rhodri would not mind at all if he had to spend Christmas marooned at Cae Hic provided that Nonny was with him. Rhys blinked. It had never occurred to him that the other man might be keen on his daughter. He had always thought the ten years’ difference in age was too great for either party to consider the other as a possible partner, but now . . . He looked from Rhodri’s serious face to Nonny’s gay and smiling one. Was it really possible . . . ? He and Molly had always hoped that Nonny would marry into the farming community. Well, was not Rhodri a farmer? But now they were assuring him that they would not take the old lady out into the storm, said they would be quite content to remain at Cae Hic until the weather changed, so he nodded to them, pulled his muffler up over his lower face, climbed aboard the tractor and set off once more.

Half way down the hill he realised that his worst fears were coming true: the snow was drifting quickly. There was a long ridge ahead of him; difficult to judge the depth but he guessed it would be three or four feet, but the tractor, he knew, could take a drift of that size in its stride. He ploughed through it, but a little further on he was suddenly aware that his headlight was not just going dim but flickering, and a couple of minutes later it died.

Rhys groaned, then told himself that it made little difference; all the headlight had done was light up the
whirling flakes. In fact it was easier to see now that its treacherous light was extinguished. He pressed on, even more eager now to get home, for weariness and the strain of peering through the snow was beginning to catch up with him. At one point he began to wonder whether he had actually driven off the track, and jerked his head round to look behind him. He realised he could see his own tyre tracks coming from Cae Hic but not the tracks approaching it. Puzzled, and more than a little worried, he slowed his speed and scanned the ground behind him, and when he turned to face front once more he realised with horror that he had climbed the bank without realising it and the engine was shrieking as one of the big wheels spun with nothing to grip. Rhys fought to bring the tractor back on the track, saw the whirling snow blotted out as the vehicle tilted sideways, felt pain and terror engulf him, and knew no more.

Chapter Fifteen

FOR THE FIRST
half hour, Molly busied herself with all those little jobs which a housewife can always find, and for the second half hour she spent a good deal of time peering through the window at the fast whirling flakes, but after a whole hour had passed she began to worry seriously. Something had gone wrong, she knew it in her bones. She played with the idea that the Pritchards might have asked Rhys to stay the night, hoping that the storm would be over by morning. Then she wondered if the medication had come too late and the old lady was so ill that Rhodri had bundled her into the jeep and driven her off to the village where Dr Llewellyn could be roused at need. When Rhys had been gone for an hour and a half, Molly could bear the suspense no longer. She went through to Chris’s lovely new room and shook him awake, which took some doing, for like the rest of them Chris had had a long and tiring day and had fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep. Molly awakened him at last, however, chiefly by saying, ‘Chris, I’m so frightened. I need you.’ That had penetrated the mists of sleep all right. Chris shot upright in his bed, eyes dilating. Molly had brought the lamp in with her and by its light Chris stared wildly round the room.

‘Mam? Is someone ill?’

‘Yes . . . no . . . I’m not sure,’ Molly gabbled. ‘But Chris,
darling, Dad went off over an hour and a half ago to take Mrs Pritchard’s medication – oh, you don’t know, do you? It got left behind by mistake; it was all my fault. Anyway, Dad took it and went off in the tractor ages ago. He should have been back by now. Oh, Chris, I’m beginning to believe he must have had an accident. The tractor may have broken down . . . oh, I wish I hadn’t persuaded him not to take Wanderer. What should we do?’