“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.
4. The Morning After
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.
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.
5. Community Spirit
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,” s
aid 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.
Cherringham--Snowblind Page 2
