A Christmas to Remember

by Katie Flynn

  ‘Oh, Dad, hadn’t I better do it? I’ve driven a tractor—’ Jonty began, only to be firmly overruled by his mother.

  ‘Nonsense!’ she said briskly. ‘When we was first wed I took the wheel from time to time; reckon I can still remember how. Now get you out of that seat, bor! Jonty and Tess will give you a hand round t’other side. But let’s have a look at your head first. Then I’ll know whether to make for the farm or the hospital.’

  As she spoke she leaned over and took her husband’s hand away from his forehead, revealing a lump the size of a hen’s egg with a deepish cut running across it.

  Tess gasped, but Jonty shook a reproving head at her. ‘Dad’s pretty tough; I don’t reckon he’ll need the hospital. If Ma washes the blood off and puts some iodine on it he’ll be fine,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Come on, Tess, let’s get Dad into the passenger seat and see how Ma manages.’

  Tess was doubtful, for in all the time she had known the family Mrs Bell had seldom, if ever, taken the lead in any project. She was sure that her hostess had no idea how to work the gears, for instance, but in the event she was proved wrong. To be sure, for the first half-mile or so the Morris hopped along more like a kangaroo than a car, with its engine roaring one minute and faltering the next, but presently Mrs Bell managed to get into second and then third gear, and despite the gale they reached the lane which led to Bell Farm just as hail began to fall so fiercely that Mr Bell told his wife to stop the car. ‘You can’t drive in this,’ he told her as huge pieces of ice the size of tennis balls continued to rain down on them. ‘You’ve done well, my woman, but ’tis time I took over.’

  Tess expected Mrs Bell to object, to point out that since she had got so far she might as well carry on, but as more and more of the huge lumps of ice descended from the ominous black clouds it became clear that the farmer’s wife was no keener to continue to drive than her husband was to let her. Instead she left the driving seat just as her husband reached the door, and the two changed places. The engine was still running, so Mr Bell only had to wait until his wife had slammed the passenger door before he put the car in gear and it moved gingerly forward. Tess and Jonty had reacted to the hail in the only sensible way they could: they had dived under the heavy canvas hood, raising it so that they could see ahead of them without leaving its shelter. ‘Well, folks say it’s been a queer old summer, but I’ve never seen hailstones this size before,’ Jonty murmured as one bounced on his head. ‘Any crop left standing will be flattened by this little lot.’ He jerked upright suddenly, and Tess saw his eyes widen with dismay. ‘The horses! They’ll be half mad with terror!’ He leaned forward and addressed his father. ‘Dad, the horses! It ain’t only Rufus and Biddy – the carthorses is out as well. Can you drive straight to the five acre so’s we can make sure they’re all right?’ By now, however, Mr Bell was swinging the car off the lane and into the farmyard, and he shook his head decisively.

  ‘No point,’ he said briefly. ‘Knowing Solomon and Sheba they’ll have backed up against the big haystack, which will shelter them from the worst. I’m more concerned with getting the car into its shed before—’

  He stopped speaking as a hailstone even larger than the rest made a huge dent in the car’s bonnet, and Tess was not surprised when the engine died. Mrs Bell jumped out of her seat, moving more quickly than Tess had ever seen her, and by the time Tess herself and Jonty had emerged from under the hood and got themselves out of the car Mr Bell, head lowered against the onslaught of those unbelievable hailstones, was ushering Mrs Bell towards the kitchen door. Over his shoulder he shouted at his son. ‘Don’t open the tack room door, or the poultry will likely rush out and get themselves killed. There int much we can do about the beasts till the storm’s over, so get you into the kitchen.’

  Tess was only too glad to obey, for it was almost impossible to see through the hail, and judging from the noise it was doing more damage than she would have believed possible. She could imagine the terror of animals out in the pastures in such a storm, but realised that there was very little anyone could do to help them. They would have to take their chance, and only when the storm had eased would the Bells be able to assess the damage. Accordingly all four of them bolted for the kitchen, where they found Adam and Uncle Keith staring out through the window, almost unable to believe their eyes as the ground grew white with ice.

  ‘You’re back, master,’ Adam said, grinning at his employer. ‘I never sin anythin’ like it in all me born days. I doubt there’ll be a beast left livin’ if this hail continue.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Mr Bell said bracingly. He had clearly recovered from the blow on the head.

  ‘I reckon it’s arable farmers what’ll suffer the most. Oh, I don’t deny you’ll mebbe lose one or two of the store cattle, but if the pigs took shelter . . .’ Keith said, but Mrs Bell had other things on her mind.

  ‘I reckon the car’s had it,’ she announced. ‘One of them big hailstones – only they’s more like bullets – bashed into the bonnet as though it was made of cardboard. And the hood had already gone, torn near in two by the wind. As for the pigs, I doubt the makeshift shelters we knocked up will save them from a battering. Still, we’ll do what we can to put things right, as soon as the storm’s over. Can you stay on, Keith?’

  Her brother pulled a face, but nodded. ‘Aye, I’ll do what I can,’ he promised. ‘But while we wait for the weather to ease we might as well have the pie you left for us. Good thing the wind hasn’t affected the Aga; the pie’s warming in the oven, and the spuds must be nicely cooked by now.’ He turned to his nephew. ‘You’re soaked to the skin, bor. Go you up to your room and change into somethin’ dry, and the same goes for the rest of you,’ he added. ‘No point in courtin’ pneumonia.’

  By the time they had changed and eaten the meal which Mrs Bell had prepared, the hailstorm had stopped and an uneasy silence seemed to hang over the countryside. Mr Bell had insisted that everyone should eat before even beginning to see to the stock, but as soon as the last mouthful was eaten he pushed back his chair and jerked his head at Adam. ‘We’d best see what damage has been done,’ he said gruffly. ‘Though I dare say we’ll find it quicker to make a note of what’s unharmed.’ He gave a grim little chuckle. ‘If we’ve got away without the new stores stampeding, like they do in cowboy fillums, I reckon we’ll be luckier than we deserve.’ He shook his head sorrowfully, then winced and put a hand over the neat dressing his wife had applied to his forehead. ‘Darn it! How that iodine do sting!’ He turned to his wife. ‘You stay here, Mother; the rest of us will check the beasts.’ He turned to Tess, his smile kindly. ‘You stay here if you’ve a mind, my dear. The four of us should be quite enough . . .’

  Adam had already left the kitchen and was crunching over the ice in his big rubber boots when Tess heard him give a startled exclamation. The next moment he burst back into the room, his weathered face paler than usual. ‘Crippen’s gone!’ he shouted. ‘He’s bust clean out of his sty and there int no sign of him! Oh, master, he’ll be in the devil’s own temper. Gawd help anyone what crosses his path!’

  Everyone except Mrs Bell immediately left the kitchen to examine the sty, not because they did not trust Adam’s word, but because the sty was so solid that they could not imagine how the great boar had escaped from it. But escape he had. The door to his pen had been torn clean off its hinges, and of Crippen himself there was no sign. Tess had intended to stay with Mrs Bell, but at the thought of an exciting pig hunt she went back to the kitchen, got her oilskins and returned to the yard. She was amused to see Adam stirring the straw of Crippen’s pen as though he suspected that the great beast might have burrowed into it to hide from the storm, but as soon as Mr Bell issued his orders Adam expressed his willingness to join in the search. ‘Not that he’ll be difficult to find, ’cos he’s that big we’re scarce likely to overlook him,’ he said. ‘And knowin’ Crippen he’ll be in a rare bad mood. In fact it’s likelier he’ll be huntin’ we than we huntin’ him.’

  Mr Be
ll turned and glared at the elderly farm worker. ‘Go and get a couple of mangel-wurzels down from the loft,’ he commanded. ‘Crippen’s rare fond of ’em, so if we can’t persuade him by other means mebbe bribery will do it.’ He turned to his brother-in-law. ‘I reckon he’ll ha’ gone to the sows in the hazel pasture. ’Tis only natural to seek the company of your own kind when things go wrong.’ He turned to Jonty and Tess. ‘You two check on the horses and the cattle down by the cut. Let’s hope they’re all safe and sound, but cattle panic easy.’

  ‘Right away, Dad,’ Jonty said quickly, and Tess, who knew him very well, guessed that he would check the horses first, for of all the farm animals the horses were his favourites. But Mr Bell was still talking.

  ‘And if you catch so much as a glimpse of Crippen make a note of where he is and come and tell Keith, Adam or myself. Likely he’d make mincemeat of you.’

  ‘Oh aye, you’re right there, master,’ Adam said lugubriously. ‘Likely he’ll make mincemeat out of us an’ all, ’cos that there boar ain’t a lover of folk. Once, when I were cleanin’ his pen, thinkin’ he were shut in the other half of it, mind, he come rushin’ out and tried to crush me agin the wall. If I hadn’t had a couple of turnips in a bucket for to bribe him, I reckon I’d ha’ been a dead man.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Mr Bell said impatiently, for they had all heard the story of Adam’s escape from death by Crippen many times. Indeed, it was the reason why the boar had been christened Crippen, for even as a young pig he had shown definite signs of hostility towards humans.

  The search party set out. The two big carthorses came eagerly over from where they had taken shelter in the lee of a small wood, but Rufus and Biddy, wild-eyed and trembling, kept their distance, so Jonty rushed back to the barn to find a couple of turnips and returned waving the food enticingly. The ponies delicately approached, tiptoeing across the field, and Tess saw, with relief, that the hailstones were actually melting quite fast, and guessed that by the following day they would all have gone.

  But in the meantime she and Jonty had work to do, and it proved to be hard work, too. One of the store cattle lay dead in the cut, or at least Tess assumed it was dead, until she slithered down the bank and saw that its eyes were open and blinking. Horrified, she and Jonty tried to get it to its feet, but the poor beast expired whilst they were still struggling, so they left the carcass and returned to the farm, where Mr Bell told them that his guess was wrong, or at any rate if Crippen had gone to his sows he was there no longer. Tess guessed that, having won his freedom, Crippen had taken off for pastures new. Unfortunately they could not follow his trail as they would have done normally because the fast-melting ice had left the lane little better than a muddy morass. However, there were two sizeable holes in the hazel hedge which even Tess guessed must be Crippen’s entry and exit holes, so it was fairly safe to assume that the great boar would have followed the lane and might not be very far ahead of them. Mr Bell and Adam, who knew the animal best, warned Tess and Jonty to get well out of the way and not to try to intercept Crippen if he decided to return to the familiar farmyard. Adam, nervously clutching a mangel, said that he would try to tempt the creature with the food he most enjoyed, and Mr Bell waved the walking stick which he had seized as they left the farm kitchen and said grimly that he would not hesitate to defend himself should the need arise.

  But for half a mile it seemed as though the pig hunt had got off on the wrong foot, for there was no sign of Crippen and they were getting closer to the Broad with every step they took. ‘If he get among the bulrushes, he’ll likely drown,’ Adam said, and Tess could not help noticing that he sounded hopeful. ‘It’d mebbe be for the best, master.’

  Mr Bell turned a fulminating glare on the old man. ‘That boar’s worth a deal of money,’ he pointed out. ‘I don’t deny he’s got a nasty temper, but we can’t afford to lose him. Look at the size of him.’

  ‘I am looking,’ Adam said, licking his lips, probably at the memory of Crippen’s enormous haunches, Tess supposed. ‘He’d cut up real good, would Crippen; there’d be enough bacon on him to last for a year.’

  Mr Bell had begun to say that Crippen was worth a lot more alive than dead when they came within sight of the Broad, and Adam gave a triumphant yell. ‘There he be, master,’ he shouted, pointing ahead of them. ‘Look at him, look at him, happy as a pig in muck! But how are we to coax him out of there is more’n I can say.’

  Tess, following Adam’s pointing finger, could only agree with this sentiment. The boar had made himself a wonderful wallow by crushing down the reeds and bulrushes until he was half submerged in muddy water, and was obviously quite happy to champ on the grass and sedge which came within his reach. In a cowboy film, Tess thought, someone would have produced a lasso, though she pitied anyone holding the business end of such a thing with Crippen at the other. But as it was, Mr Bell began to give his orders. ‘Keith, stay well back but prepare to guide him towards the farm if he comes out of that there mud of his own accord. Adam, here’s my walkin’ stick; you stand guard so he can’t go no further up the lane, and give the mangel to Jonty. If the worst come to the worst mebbe a bribe will bring him back to the farm. I’m goin’ to fetch the pig net.’

  ‘Oh aye?’ Adam said, taking the proffered stick and handing the mangel to Jonty. ‘If’n you fetch the pig net you’d best bring the trailer as well, ’cos I don’t fancy tryin’ to persuade Crippen to walk home all tangled up in the nettin’.’

  His employer snorted. ‘I’m a-goin’ to bring as many turnips, swedes and mangels as I can carry. Once we’ve netted him out of his wallow we’ll bribe him back to his pen. I dare not leave him loose in case he decide to go further into the Broad, but he’s a greedy blighter so I reckon temptation may work.’ He strode purposefully off up the lane, and the remaining four kept their eyes uneasily on the great animal, who was clearly enjoying himself more than he had done for many long years.

  ‘Does he know we’re here?’ Tess murmured after twenty minutes. ‘If so, he’s clearly not in the least worried. And I think he does know, because every now and then I see his wicked little eye peering at me as though to say Come nearer if you dare. And he’s quite right, because I wouldn’t dare. Nothing would make me get any nearer.’

  Presently, however, Mr Bell reappeared and began marshalling his troops. Jonty handed the mangel to Tess whilst he, Keith, Adam and Mr Bell took a corner of the pig net each. Adam managed to keep hold of the walking stick and the pig net, while Tess did as she was bidden and kept well back. She watched with considerable apprehension as the four of them crept towards the mud-splattered pig, net at the ready, but they had not got far when Crippen appeared to realise that his freedom was in jeopardy. He lurched to his feet with a horrible squelching sound and began to back out of the mud, his little eyes glinting malevolently and his mouth gaping open to show his excellent tusks.

  ‘Let the net down, boys,’ Mr Bell shouted. ‘Keep clear of them tusks, Adam. Ah, he’s comin’ your way. He don’t fancy goin’ back to his sty now he’s got his leg loose! We’ll use the net to guide him in the right direction, but keep clear! He’ll have us down like ninepins given half a chance.’

  For a moment, all was confusion. Crippen’s gigantic hindquarters were in the pig net and his massive head was pointing at last in the direction required. But just when Tess thought they were about to win, Crippen turned more quickly than one would have thought possible for an animal his size, and charged straight for poor Adam, dragging the net and the three other men with him. Adam gave a roar of mingled fear and rage. ‘This way, master! This way, everyone,’ Adam bawled, but even as the words left his lips Crippen, head down and trotters twinkling, shot between Adam’s legs and galloped off, carrying the old man with him and heading in the direction of the village.

  Tess had heard Adam described as ‘a fellow who couldn’t stop a pig in a passage’, but had never appreciated the truth of it until now. For Adam was bowlegged and Crippen had not only charged between those le
gs but actually carried Adam for several yards, the old man wielding the walking stick like a lance before sliding over the animal’s massive rump to land with a bone-jarring thump on the ground, all tangled up in the pig net and in no very pleasant humour.

  Tess, trying to stop laughing, heard him muttering dire threats of what he would do to Crippen when he caught up with him, and admired his courage when he set off in pursuit, grimly dragging the pig net behind him. Jonty was laughing too, and so was Uncle Keith, but Mr Bell had clearly seen no humour in the situation. ‘After them!’ he shouted, very much in the manner of one of the cinematic heroes Jonty so admired. ‘If we let him reach the village . . .’

  Everyone immediately sobered, for the amount of damage an outraged boar could do was considerable, and the pig’s owner would be responsible.

  Tess, seeing the farmer’s speed begin to slacken, thought Crippen had beaten them. ‘Only I reckon he’ll be too tired to wreak havoc as he would have done had he been fresh,’ Tess panted, as she and Jonty entered the village. ‘Besides, I dare say everyone will be out checking on the damage the hailstones have done and no doubt they’ll give a hand to get Crippen back where he belongs.’

  This was true, and in fact the only person injured by Crippen’s escapade was Tess herself. Unwisely, once he was back in his own pen, she felt quite sorry for him and leaned into the sty to give him the last of the mangels. Far from showing appreciation of her kind act, however, Crippen grabbed it so quickly and wrenched it from her fingers so rudely that within five minutes her wrist was swollen to twice its normal size and was plum-coloured as well. Tess wailed and turned to Jonty for sympathy, but got none. ‘I told you not to go near him, because he’s that ratty he’d bite his best friend if he had one,’ Jonty said. ‘Oh, Tess, I planned to do all sorts over the next couple of days, because you’ve worked so hard . . . It hasn’t put you off us, has it? You’ll still come back next year, won’t you?’