Cherringham--Snowblind (2 page)

His father’s brogue always more pronounced when he became excited about a subject.

“Now, Jack — if you ever begin to skid, you gotta remember to turn
in
to the skid, you understand? Into it, then slowly out of it.”

More than once he had forgotten those instructions and nearly sent his first car — a beat-up Ford Pinto — careening towards the sidewalk.

Now, he took the turn smoothly. Just a bit of a slip there, but he could see the tracks made by the few other cars that had passed by.

The road was deserted now though, and his windshield wipers — small, matching the car itself — struggled to keep the wet snow from building up on the windshield.

“Okay,” he said to himself. “Nearly home.”

He reminded himself about how a storm as beautiful and big as this one could, in a heartbeat, turn dangerous.

Considering the state of things, he might end up holed up on the Goose for a few days.

No problem there. Got his martini ingredients, a few steaks in the freezer. Plenty of food for Riley.

“Be just fine,” he said again, liking the way his voice made the silence inside and out less intimidating.

He came to the curve where the fields to the right gave way to woods, a notorious spot which caught many a driver unawares even in the best weather.

Into the curve … so slowly.

When he saw someone, suddenly, a ghost-like figure, covered in the white snow — run out into the road, turning as the Sprite’s headlights caught him in mid-crossing.

The figure frozen, standing there. Eyes wide.

Leaving Jack with no option other than to hit the brakes hard and turn the steering wheel.

And just as his father might have predicted, the Sprite began a crazy skid. Instead of turning to the right and slowing, the combination of that turn and the hitting of the brakes sent the small car spinning.

A three-sixty.

Something Jack hadn’t experienced in nearly forty years.

The car had no control. Jack gently pumped the brake hoping to get it to slow even as it twirled around once, then again.

For all he knew, whoever the crazy person in the middle of the road was … was still there, and the car would go flying at him like a pinwheel.

Jack’s stomach tightened. He hated not being in control.

And this was a lot like being helpless.

But then he saw that, on the second full-circle spin, the Sprite was now sliding to the left, into the snowy hedges. Then there was a heavy bump as the tyres sank into a roadside rut.

And that rut, catching the two left tyres, at least had the effect — jarring as it was — of stopping the car.

The whole wild manoeuvre was in slow motion so Jack hadn’t been thrown forward, smashing into the windshield or the steering wheel.

He looked right, trying to see the road, searching for the ghostly figure he had almost driven into.

But the side window had a coating of snow, blocking the view.

He rolled down the window, letting that coating fall into the driver’s seat.

But at least he could now see the road. Deserted, as if there never had been a figure at all.

Jack opened the door of the car, and got out. Snow blew sideways, nasty stuff as if trying to sneak its way into any crack in the protection offered by his coat.

Easily six or seven inches on the ground already, and still coming down thick.

“Hello!” Jack yelled.

Where was the guy who had been standing in the road?

Jack hadn’t gotten a good look at him, just a glance before his turning, braking.

Now — he could see the snowy circle made by the spinning car.

But there was no one there.

Jack had one thankful thought:
least I didn’t hit him.

Because if he had hit the man, the body would be lying just in front of that circle on the road.

But what was the guy doing here, running across the road?

“Hey!” he yelled.

The figure looked as if it had come from the woods ahead.

Maybe he had gone back there?

Jack started walking in that direction.

“Hey … you … you okay?”

He had competition from the wind now, whistling in his ears, and probably doing a good job of muffling his yells.

“Hello! … Where are you?”

No footpath into the woods. How’d the guy come through there, pushing his way past branches, bushes?

More like he was lost.

Deeper into the woods, and Jack realised that the guy could have gone anywhere, any direction.

He stopped, did a slow turn. And outside of the whistle of the wind, and the steady falling snow, he saw and heard nothing.

Whoever it was … .
he thought …
let’s hope he ran back where he came from.

You wouldn’t last long out here. Not in this.

He sniffed the air, then pulled his jacket collar tight to try and stop the invading snow, and walked back to the Sprite.

Getting the car out of the rut wasn’t easy. He had to make it rock back and forth, all the time hearing the exposed rocky dirt grind against the undercarriage of the car.

Going to need some work after this.

But then, with one final thrust forward, the Sprite’s left rear tyre got some traction and pushed the car out of the rut, back on to the road.

And as he drove the last few minutes to his boat, he kept thinking of the man who had appeared on the road, and then vanished.

He’d call Alan to alert him — and any of the crews out tonight — to keep a lookout.

But hopefully the crazy guy was already back inside his home — wherever that might be — ready to sleep it off, safe and warm.

He pulled the car in as close to the river as he could, guessing that he wouldn’t be using it for a while. He could check for damage in the morning.

Then — he heard Riley barking inside.

Maybe the dog could tell that something was up outside; the storm, the wind, the snow.

Or maybe he just wanted a walk.

“Coming, boy,” Jack called, hurrying from the car and up the ramp to the Grey Goose.

Riley was standing by the door, tail wagging wildly, as Jack opened it.

“Thought I was lost out there? Guess you might need a bit of walk?”

Riley knew that word and responded with an affirmative bark.

No need for a leash, and Jack led the way back down the boat ramp again as Riley bounded ahead.

Doubtful he’d want to stay out here for long.

In minutes, they were both back inside.

“Yes, Alan, the guy just stood there. Didn’t get a good look at him. And when I got out, he was gone.”

“Right. That is strange, Jack. Night like this, God.”

“I did a bit of a search for him. Couldn’t see or hear anything.”

“Okay. I should be back in the village tonight; I’ll take a drive around.”

“Oh,” said Jack. “You not here now then?”

“No, I’m in Oxford. Workshop on caring for the community.”

“Good timing,” said Jack.

“Tell me about it.”

“Soonest you can leave, the better, I’d say Alan — it’s coming down hard.”

“I hear you. Anyway, the gritters should be hitting the village soon. I’ll call them — get them to keep an eye out as well.”

“Great. Hope he got back okay … wherever he came from.”

For a second, Alan didn’t say anything to that.

“Hmm. That’s the thing, Jack. Not much out there. Unless he had been wandering for quite some time. Anyway, we’ll keep a lookout. You okay, the car?”

“Me? I’m fine. Sprite — we’ll see. Got me home at least.”

“Good. Stay safe Jack.”

“You too, Alan. Kinda think we might be needing you here in the next day or two.”

“Do my best, Jack.”

Then…

And speaking of safe…

Jack thought he’d call and check on Sarah and the kids. School had closed early and he guessed Sarah probably came home in the early afternoon as well.

But still — wouldn’t hurt to see how everyone was doing.

Jack had pulled up a chair by the boat’s port window so he could watch all that snow come down while he talked to Sarah.

“What about Daniel — guess he’s eager to get out in it?”

Sarah laughed. “He’s never seen anything like this. But it’s dark, still coming down. Tomorrow, I said.”

“Wise decision … Going to be interesting to see how your village deals with this the day after.”

“Won’t be many shops open, I’d guess.”

He hesitated mentioning the near run-in with the mysterious guy on the road.

But then he took a sip of his martini, a chilly drink for a chilly night.

And he told her about what happened.

“God, Jack. You okay?”

“Not a scratch. The Sprite on the other hand will need to be looked at.”

“And that man—?”

“Vanished. Like he wasn’t even there.”

“Strange.”

“Sarah, any idea where he might have come from?”

“Out there? Nearest place with people is right where you are. And you know everyone who’s still in their boats this time of year, don’t you?”

“Yup. And he didn’t look dressed for the weather. Think … he had a bathrobe on.”

“Well, you told Alan. Not much more you can do.”

Another sip. He guessed that Sarah was right.

Not much more to do.

But then why did it feel as if there
was
more to be done?

“Yeah,” he said. “So, you guys stay warm. Going to fix a rib eye in a bit. Kind of love nights like this.”

“Have one for me!”

“You bet.”

“And Jack — thanks for checking in …”

“My pleasure,” he said. “Speak soon.”

And he knew, this call, this checking-in … was indeed a pleasure.

Closest thing he had to family here.

Riley sat at his feet, now so peaceful, head resting on his paws.

“Now for that steak, eh boy?” The dog raised his eyes but didn’t stir as Jack got up and headed to the boat’s small galley.

Sarah inspected Daniel, about to brave the world of snow outside.

“I don’t think,” she said with a grin, “that I’ve ever seen you wearing so many
layers
.”

He had his puffa jacket zipped tight. Worn only once last winter, and on his head a knitted cap yanked down low. Two pairs of trousers and hiking boots, with thick socks pulled up over the bottoms of his trousers.

“I do feel a bit like the Michelin man,” Daniel said grinning.

He turned to the back door, the windows glistening with morning sun.

She laughed at that. “Don’t stay out there too long, it’s still really cold.”

Her very own Michelin boy nodded. “Going to see if I can build a fort out of the stuff. Maybe even tunnels!”

“An engineering project. Fantastic. And I’ll make sure that there’s hot chocolate waiting for you when you take a break.”

And with that, she opened the door, and Daniel went out into what was once a small garden but now resembled an ice flow bobbing away from Antarctica.

She held the door open only a second, seeing Daniel grab his fort-building tool — a seldom-used snow shovel — and then start trudging into the feet-high snow.

Now so deep, she saw, that he could barely get his feet up and over to take a step.

They promised a blizzard, and they delivered.

She shut the door tight, still checking on her son loving this snow in only the way that a young boy could.

Which is when Chloe came into the kitchen.

“Mum …”

From her tone, the princess wasn’t especially happy.

“Morning, Chloe.”

“All this
yucky
snow. You think it will be gone in time for Lucy’s party this weekend?”

Sarah glanced at the back door’s window. “Don’t know, Chloe. There’s a lot of snow out there. And I don’t know what the roads are like. I think you’re just going to have to wait and see.”

Chloe came to the windows and looked out. “Stupid stuff. Like we live in Canada or something.”

Sarah came to stand next to her daughter. “It’s kind of pretty though, don’t you think? Now that the sun’s out. That blue sky. The way—”

Chloe pulled away, and walked to the cupboard.

Guess my poetic descriptions were falling on deaf ears,
Sarah thought
.

And amazing how different the two children were. Daniel having an amazing morning piling up the snow, tunnelling. Acting like a miniature Inuit constructing his winter quarters.

And Chloe, pouring out a bowl of cereal, fretting about the big birthday party this weekend.

But then — Sarah thought — at her age with a party ahead — she’d probably feel exactly the same way.

So, she came away from the door, went for another cup of coffee, and then sat down with her daughter.

Thinking: it’s just good to be here, sitting together. Safe, warm … and as much of a family as I can make on my own.

“No boy, ’fraid you’re going to have to stay here.”

The snowdrifts outside would swallow Riley, and Jack planned on doing a big walk.

If the amount of snow was any indication, then Cherringham was probably “closed for business”. And though he had checked in on Sarah last night, he woke up with the idea of hiking over to her place, pop in, see how they were getting on.

Guessing that there was really no need. But somehow … it seemed like the thing to do.

He had to dig around for a thick scarf, and his heavy gloves … winter stuff that he really hadn’t used since leaving New York.

Always was a great moment when spring seemed to finally come, and you packed away the gloves, the scarves, and the hats. Banished the shovel to the basement.

And hoped that nature had no surprises.

He checked that his phone was fully charged.

Then he went to the steps that led up to the door out of the Grey Goose, and out to the snow-covered plank.

And he began his adventurous hike…

He guessed that there had been nearly two feet of snow.

Amazing.

Really never thought he’d see that here. And where the wind blew, some heaves rose over three feet.