Cherringham--Snowblind (3 page)

So — going was slow.

Taking a measured pace as he stepped one foot in front of the other carefully. As he trudged, he thought of great Antarctic explorers, a subject that always fascinated him. Scott, Amundsen, the amazing Shackleton! How they faced the cold, the ice doing exactly what he was doing here. One step at a time. Then another.

Of course, the wind here wasn’t
quite
so bad. And the sun made the blizzard’s aftermath look more magical than threatening.

He wanted to walk through Cherringham — that would be a sight to see. But first he’d take a dogleg around to Sarah’s.

Just nip in.

Then to the village centre. Hopefully, as he hit some of the roads he’d find ploughed areas, and walking would be easy.

He thought of calling her, alerting them … but no. Wanted this to seem casual — and not the old guy who maybe worried too much about his new friends.

When he passed the weir and crossed over the river on the small bridge, he saw that the road here indeed had been recently ploughed. But already the wind had blown some of that snow back.

The main route up to Cherringham was deserted, and walking on the road reminded him of last night.

The guy he almost hit.

He wondered whether Alan had been able to learn anything. What happened, the mystery of that figure … it just wouldn’t go away.

Half way up the road, he took a turn to the right to where Sarah lived. People were out shovelling in front of some of the houses. They all paused, and gave him a wave.

The camaraderie of the snowbound!

The primary school was just ahead … very quiet there with everyone on a snow day. And just a couple of roads further up, Sarah’s house.

Maybe he and Daniel could do some shovelling together, he thought. Make sure there were paths to the car, the street. At least get her Rav-4 cleared of snow.

For a moment, he had the thought that maybe he was being — what would they call him in Bay Ridge? — a
nudge.

But no. He knew Sarah too well — she’d never think that of him. And maybe, he thought, she’d have some idea this morning of where that guy came from last night.

And soon he saw her house, and could even spot Daniel in the back throwing up great shovelfuls of snow.

And didn’t that look like fun …

“Time for your reward, boys,” said Sarah, putting down the tray of tea and bacon sandwiches on the doorstep. “You know you’ve been out here for nearly an hour?”

She watched as Jack and Daniel leaned their shovels against the garden fence, shook the snow off their jackets, peeled off their gloves and came down the cleared path to the front door.

“No better way to get warm on a winter’s day, isn’t that right Daniel?” said Jack, fist bumping Daniel and getting a big grin in return.

Sarah watched her son and felt proud of him; his readiness to get stuck in. She could see that Jack too was in his element, working alongside Daniel, teaching him how to pile the snow on each side of the path …

Like a dad,
she thought.

As she looked around the front garden of her little house she was impressed by what they’d achieved.

Not just the path clear — but the pavement too, almost as far as the corner of the road. And her car — which this morning had just been a buried shape — now looked ready to go.

“Jack says if we get another dump of snow later, it’ll be easier to clear now we’ve done this,” said Daniel, reaching for a bacon sandwich.

“If?” said Jack, grabbing a sandwich too. “More a question of when, if this morning’s forecast was anything to go by.”

Sarah handed him his tea.

“They said just now on the radio to expect more,” said Sarah.

“Brilliant!” said Daniel. “Everyone’s up at Winsham Hill, Mum, can I take the toboggan?”

“If you can find it,” said Sarah. “Last time I looked, it was at the back of the shed.”

“Are we finished, Jack?” said Daniel.

“Sure, Daniel,” said Jack. “Nice work by the way — I think your neighbours will appreciate it.”

Sarah watched Daniel disappear round the side of the house in search of his toboggan, then turned back to Jack.

“First-name terms now, Jack?”

“He’s a good kid. Seems crazy him calling me Mr. Brennan.”

“I don’t see the car — did you walk up?”

“Sure. Best way to see the village, day like this.”

“Must be pretty up there — I’ve been sorting the house all morning.”

“Shut the office, huh?”

“Not worth opening,” she said. “And I can do anything important on my laptop here.”

“Hey,” said Jack. “You can’t work on a snow day!”

“I wish,” she said. “But stuff’ll pile up if I don’t.”

“So let it pile up. Hey — we could take Daniel tobogganing—”

“That’d be nice, but no way.”

“Well, you’re the boss. Your choice.”

Sarah thought about that — and realised that it hadn’t occurred to her not to work.

“But you know Sarah, another year or two and that toboggan will be at the back of the shed for good. These days don’t come again. Gotta grab ‘em while you can.”

She looked at Jack. He was smiling at her — but underneath she could see he really meant it. She knew his daughter was grown up and gone …

He’s been there,
she thought.
He’s right.

“Why not?” she said. “I might even take a turn myself. Used to be pretty good on that thing back in the day.”

“Attagirl!” said Jack. “So what are we waiting for?”

“I’ll get my boots.”

She watched Jack grinning — and could see that this morning the retired cop had gone and standing in front of her was a New York kid with a day’s adventures ahead.

Jack walked down Cherringham High Street with Sarah at his side, feeling on top of the world.

They’d spent a crazy couple of hours up at Winsham Hill with Daniel and his pals and he’d loved every minute. The slope was the village’s traditional tobogganing run and it seemed like half the population was up there having fun.

I’m going to pay for this tomorrow,
he thought.

His legs ached and his knees would not forgive him being put through that kind of punishment, clambering up snowy slopes.

But this stroll through a picture-postcard version of an English village in winter made it all seem worthwhile. The place was deserted, and in the midday sunshine he thought it looked like a scene from a Dickens story.

Magical place. Magical day,
he thought.

“I thought you’d never be able to stop!” said Sarah, still laughing.

“Hey — I was in total control,” said Jack. “Just I’m a little heavier than your average tobogganer — you call ’em that? — so the brakes don’t quite work for me…”

“The King of Winsham Hill, Jack — you wait till I write today up in the village magazine.”

“Ouch,” said Jack. “Promise you won’t use the photos, huh?”

“Buy me a drink and that’s a maybe—”

“Oh I see — one minute she’s too busy to step out the house and now she’s up for a pub crawl?”

“Lunch at the Ploughman’s is what I had in mind,” said Sarah. “My treat — for helping clear the snow.”

Jack considered this. The pub was just a couple of hundred yards down the hill and he realised the morning’s fun had left a big hole in his stomach.

“Hey, why not,” he said as they drew level with the pub. “See if anyone else is out and about today — apart from the kids.”

“Then tea and toast by the fire with Daniel and Chloe?”

“That’s a deal, Sarah.”

They kicked the snow off their boots on the old iron boot-scraper by the door to the public bar of the Ploughman’s and went in.

A welcome waft of warm air and cooking smells hit Jack instantly and he knew this was a perfect idea. There was a roaring fire going in one corner and a busy clatter echoed from the kitchens behind the bar.

To his surprise, the pub was busy, tables filled and people eating.

“You know what, Jack?” said Sarah. “We’re the youngest people in here.”

“Well, that’s something, if you’re including me,” said Jack.

He looked around — and indeed, it did seem like a coach-load of pensioners had been dropped off for lunch.

“What are you having Jack?” said Ellie at the bar as he approached.

“Pint of bitter.”

“Spritzer please,” said Sarah.

“And that smells like you got a roast on, huh?” Jack said.

“Yep, nice big joint of lamb,” said Ellie. “Do you want some?”

Jack looked at Sarah who nodded.

“Yep — we definitely want,” he said. “What’s with the crowd, Ellie?”

“Billy’s idea,” she said. “He wanted to make sure some of the old people got a good hot meal. So we all came in early, got cooking.”

“Good for you,” said Sarah.

“He’s got chains on the old Land Rover,” said Ellie, “so he’s just been driving around picking up the really isolated ones, bringing them in, feeding them up. Couple of the local farmers with four-wheel drives helped out too.”

Jack looked around the bar. Apart from the familiar group of farmers at the locals’ end of the bar chatting to Billy, the owner, he didn’t recognise any of the faces. He guessed they were Cherringham old folk who lived alone; maybe had meals dropped round, carers normally looking after them.

Then he did a double take.

In one corner, he saw a familiar figure, prodding at a full plate of food. An old man in striped nightgown, but with a fleece draped round his shoulders and a blanket on his knees.

On his feet were a pair of unlaced boots, way too big for him.

He looked exactly like the ghostly apparition Jack had nearly bumped into the night before.

Same white hair, gaunt face; thin, distant gaze. Next to him, helping him eat, sat a girl he recognised who worked part-time behind the bar. Not exactly a professional carer; but she seemed to be doing her best to get the old man to eat something.

“Sarah — see the guy in the corner?” Jack said.

He watched as she followed his nod.

“If I’m not mistaken, that’s the fella I nearly took out on the road down to the Goose last night.”

Jack turned back to the bar.

“Ellie — the guy in the nightgown — what’s the story?”

Ellie handed over his pint and topped up Sarah’s wine with soda.

“He turned up last night, just before we shut,” she said. “Dead lucky — another few minutes and I’d have been gone, Billy would have been upstairs with the telly on loud and that matey there would have been sleeping on the doorstep.”

“Sleeping?” said Jack. “I’m afraid, in that blizzard — dying more like.”

“Billy brought him in, warmed him up, gave him the sofa.”

“So — doesn’t he want to go home?”

“That’s the thing … we don’t know what he wants.”

“What do you mean?” said Sarah.

“He hasn’t said a word since we found him.”

“You don’t even know who he is?”

“Nope. All we do know is — he’s from the home — you know, Broadmead up past the station?”

“Ah,” said Sarah.

“It’s stamped on his nightshirt.”

Ellie moved away down the bar to serve someone and Jack turned to Sarah: “What’s Broadmead — some kind of nursing home?”

She nodded: “Private place; specialises in dementia care.”

“You know it?” he said.

“Yes. You remember Beth, from the choir?”

Jack nodded — he sang occasionally in the village choir and Beth was one of the livelier members.

“Well, her grandmother’s up at the home. I’ve gone visiting with her a couple of times.”

“Ellie, why haven’t they sent someone to pick him up?” said Jack when the barmaid returned.

“Don’t know, Jack. Rang them a few times but no answer. Phone lines down maybe?”“So what’s going to happen to him?” said Jack.

Ellie shrugged. “I guess when Billy’s got some time later on he’ll drop him back up there in one of the Land Rovers.”

Ellie was called away again to serve a customer, and Jack led Sarah to a seat by the fire.

“You seem pretty concerned, Jack,” she said, sipping her drink.

Jack swallowed some of his pint and put the glass back on the table. He thought for a moment.

“Yeah — I am. I just feel it isn’t right for the guy to be sitting out here without the proper people looking after him. Know what I mean?”

He watched as Sarah looked across to the old man then back again.

“And I also feel responsible — I mean; I should have searched for him longer last night, poor guy.”

“You did all you could,” she said. “But maybe there is something we can do now.”

“How so?”

“I’m sure Billy would let us borrow the Land Rover after we’ve had our lunch. It would only take ten minutes for us to run the old man up to the home.”

Jack nodded.
Great idea …

“You’re right. I could drop you on the way back, and then bring the Land Rover back here.”

When Billy brought over their plates of roast lamb, Jack and Sarah talked through the idea with him. Billy agreed immediately and handed the keys to Jack, then put his hands on the table and leaned in with a mock serious expression: “Just don’t put it in a ditch, eh Jack?”

“Well if I do, Billy, you’ll be the first to know about it,” said Jack, laughing. “And I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I’ll stand you a nice whiskey when you’re back, mate,” said Billy, giving Jack a hearty slap on the back before heading back to the bar.

“You two,” said Sarah.

Jack grinned at that — and then tucked in to his lamb and roast potatoes.

“Eat up — we’ve got work to do.” he said.

Sarah waited until Jack signalled that the Land Rover had heated up then, with Ellie’s help, shuffled the old man into the back seat with as many blankets as they could find.

As she and Jack drove through the deserted High Street, she realised it no longer had the chocolate box sunny charm she’d felt in the morning. To the west of the village she could see the heavy dark clouds they’d been warned about on the weather forecast.

“Look. More snow on the way, Jack,” she said.

She saw Jack peer through the window at the ominous sky, then without taking his eyes off the road again: “Don’t worry, we’ll have you back home in an hour or two no problem. This thing will drive through anything.”