by Lucy Coleman
‘Yep. Tollie, Fisher and I will head over to the outhouse to fire up the generator and see what we can power. Tollie is just digging out some storm lanterns.’
I groan, inwardly. ‘I notice the heating’s gone off, but we’re on Calor gas, so we’re good, aren’t we?’
Gray screws up his face. ‘Only if we can keep the pump running and that requires electricity.’
Oh no! Not to mention the fridge and the freezers. What next?
It’s cold. And when I say cold, I mean the bone-chilling, teeth-chattering version. Before the power cut, Fisher said that, according to the news, fourteen inches of snow had fallen in our area and temperatures were due to plummet to minus seventeen degrees Celsius overnight.
By eight o’clock we’ve raided both attics for sleeping bags that haven’t been used in a few years but, thankfully, proved to be a good investment. Together with three blow-up mattresses, which were Tollie’s pride and joy in his camping days, every find is a treasure. It reminds me of summers sleeping in the back garden, with Grandma inside the cottage refusing to swap a sprung mattress for something filled with air. Tollie, Dad and I loved it on the occasions we were able to pack up the trailer and head off for a little trip.
In those days, the folding camper van was considered to be the best of both worlds, with two bedrooms and a living space. But more often than not, we’d put up his old tent in the garden and pretend we were camping somewhere, equally happy to pop back indoors to grab a snack and use the facilities.
Now we are cut off and who knows when the weather is going to improve? With no other options left, Fisher begins to inflate the mattresses with a hairdryer, and I take Kurt aside.
‘We’re out of space, I’m afraid. There’s nowhere other than in here to fit the blow-up mattresses. I’m going to give Bernie and Yvonne mine and Gray’s room and we’ll take one of the doubles in here. Abe and Ethel will have to take the other double blow-up and we’ll jiggle the furniture around in Tollie’s sitting room for them. It’s not ideal, but at least it’s a little more private. Fisher will have to use the single in here, too. So, there’ll be seven of us sleeping in this open-plan area tonight. Is that all right?’
‘Listen, we’re just grateful to be here. You do whatever you have to do to fit everyone in, Immi. This is no time to be making a drama out of a crisis.’
‘Did you hear that?’
I tilt my head, calling out, ‘Shush!’
The chatter quickly dies down.
‘That was the pump, I’m sure of it.’ I race over to place my fingers on the radiator by the door. It’s stone cold and I shake my head but refuse to remove my hand. ‘I heard it kick in, I swear.’
Everyone is swaddled in jumpers, duvets, or blankets, except for Jude and Jade, who grabbed two of the sleeping bags and are curled up on the floor playing snap.
‘It’s getting warm!’ I yell, probably sounding more enthusiastic than if I’d just been told I’ve won the lottery. ‘We will soon have some heat.’
The sound of heavy feet landing in the hallway sees me running towards the door to fling it open. Three very bedraggled and half-frozen men stare back at me.
‘Well,’ Tollie confirms, ‘there’s not enough power for the lighting. But the central-heating pump is up and running, and we can probably power the hob, oven, fridges and freezers without it tripping out.’
There’s a hearty round of applause.
‘I’ll boil a pan of water and make some hot drinks.’ Valerie jumps up. She’s wearing two very thick winter jumpers. The top one is Gray’s, the navy-blue, cable-knit sleeves falling well below her hands, but she looks toasty.
As I scan around, the battery-powered hurricane lamps cast a very pleasant glow. There isn’t one miserable face among us. As Kurt asks the girls if they can help him make some room on the floor for the inflatable mattresses, they are both eager to help.
‘It’s like a village sleepover!’ Jude yells at Jade, excitedly. They wriggle out of their sleeping bags to help Kurt and Sarah move the dining chairs and the table back against the wall.
The lights might not be illuminating our beautiful Christmas tree, but it still looks pretty, as the silver and gold tinsel reflects the light radiating out from the lanterns. The fact that the presents lying beneath it haven’t yet been opened seems irrelevant.
Gray jumps up and begins singing ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day’, made immortal by Roy Wood’s iconic rock band, Wizzard. I seem to be the only one who finds this extremely funny, as I make my way upstairs to raid the airing cupboard for more pillows or cushions. But with each tread I mount, the sound behind me grows louder and it’s amazing that everyone seems to know the words – even if it ends up sounding just a teeny bit out of tune.
I don’t think I have ever laughed as much as I did this evening. Even in the darkness, wrapped in Gray’s arms, as we share our sleeping quarters with three other adults and two thirteen-year-old girls, it’s a hoot.
Jude and Jade have spent over an hour giggling and whispering and running back and forth to the window to check whether it has stopped snowing.
‘Girls, that’s enough now. We’re trying to sleep,’ Kurt keeps calling out with monotonous regularity, until eventually – despite the noise – he drifts off and promptly begins snoring.
The girls finally quieten down, and Fisher and I are the last ones awake. Gray has rolled over onto his side and is breathing heavily.
‘You know who your friends truly are when you find yourselves sleeping together.’ Fisher’s voice rises up in a whisper from the other side of the kitchen island. ‘I always wondered what this sleepover thing was all about. Aren’t we supposed to eat lots of midnight snacks, or something?’
‘Mum won’t let us when our friends stay over,’ Jude bemoans in a hushed tone. ‘She says we get hyped up enough and we don’t need the added sugar to fuel us.’
I’m grinning in the darkness, my hands linked together behind my head to raise it up a little. Neither Gray nor I have pillows, but the mattress is more comfortable than it looks.
‘Is everyone warm enough?’ I ask, wondering what on earth it would be like if we didn’t have the heating on.
‘I’m good,’ the three of them chorus.
Outside the glass doors everything is beginning to glisten as the snow finally stops falling. But it’s glistening because the temperature has dropped, and the soft snow is beginning to harden.
25
Shifting Those Christmas Calories
The pinging of a text message awakens me at six a.m. and I shift position, suddenly remembering that I’m on an inflatable mattress. Gray is still asleep next to me and I suppress a giggle as I listen out and catch Kurt snoring softly. From here I can’t see if the girls or Sarah are awake as the back of the nearest sofa is blocking my view. But the silence is only broken every few seconds by Kurt. I’m pretty sure it was Fisher’s phone that disturbed me.
I lie quietly for a few moments, gazing around and allowing my eyes to adjust to the gloom. What looked rather cosy in the soft glow of the hurricane lamps late last night, in the slightly chilly greyness of a new day looks more like the after-effects of a party that got out of hand.
There’s more pinging of phones in tandem now and Fisher, Kurt and Gray all rouse at the same time.
‘Is that mine?’ Gray asks, reaching out with his hand, his eyes still shut. They spring open when it dawns on him that there’s no bedside table and he casts around on the floor to find it.
‘Did you get that text, Gray and Fisher? Tollie just added you into the Aysbury adverse weather group, Gray, so you’ll get updates throughout the day. It’s run by Wes, the owner of Adler’s farm,’ Kurt calls out from the other side of the room.
‘Thanks. Seems it’s time for action. And the power is back on, apparently, so we can turn off the generator and get things back to normal,’ Gray responds.
A very tired-looking Fisher suddenly looms up above the island, phone in hand.
> ‘The messaging has been going on since about four-thirty. I spent a good hour in the utility room with Tollie, so as not to disturb you. The minute the snow stopped falling, Adler’s farm started sending out updates. The ploughs have been out for a couple of hours now.’
‘Ah, that was very thoughtful of you, Fisher, thanks. You must be exhausted, though. And those poor people who worked through a freezing night to get everything up and running; they are truly heroes.’
Sarah’s voice appears out of nowhere as her dishevelled head rises up above the sofa cushions. ‘Happy Boxing Day.’ She waves out, and then promptly disappears out of view as the girls vault across from the sofa bed the other side of the coffee table.
The rest of us groan. This must be the worst start to a Boxing Day on record, surely?
However, it isn’t long before everyone is up, because the whole of Aysbury has been mobilised. Updates keep pinging through, as news of the big dig-out plan, formulated in the wee hours in a flurry of texts between Tollie, Fisher and Wes, spreads.
I pop the kettle on, guessing that I’m probably not the only one in need of a little caffeine to get me started this morning. Tollie steps through the door.
‘Morning, all.’ He makes his way over to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and giving me a comforting squeeze.
‘Don’t worry about the state of the place, will you? Just fold everything up and deflate the mattresses. After breakfast, we’re going to need everyone’s help outside. Hopefully, Rona and Gray will be able to get the car out and drive back home tomorrow to pack.’
It had temporarily slipped my mind that they are on countdown to flying off to the almost unimaginable warmth of the Californian sunshine.
‘Hey, m’dear, don’t go frettin’. I’m sure the main roads and the motorways will be clear enough. Adler’s farm is signed up to the Parish Response Scheme, so two of their JCBs have snowplough attachments. Wes’s men have been out since about four this mornin’, when the snow finally stopped fallin’, and they know what they’re doin’. He reckons a couple of hours and they will have cleared a single track all the way up to the top. If we can make a start on layin’ some of the grit from the bins around The Bullrush Inn and the communal car park, then we can get people on the move. We also need to make the towpath safe. We don’t want anyone endin’ up in the water.’
Fisher joins us. ‘I’ll feel happier when I’ve been able to check on the canal boats moored a bit further up, just in case anyone has had any problems,’ Fisher adds. ‘I’ll grab a quick coffee, if you don’t mind, Immi. You know I’m fit for nothing at all until I’ve had my first one of the day.’
‘You mean, two of the day,’ I reply, laughing.
For a brief second it hits me that I won’t be working with him any more. He’s the one who picks me up on my grumpy Mondays and puts up with my annoying, over-excitement as the weekend looms. But not any longer. It’s the end of another era in my life.
Tollie and Fisher are deep in conversation as I pass Fisher his coffee. He nods his head, appreciatively, but the two men are already running over today’s action plan and I know it’s best to leave them to it.
As I only have one more night here with Gray, I’m conscious that we’ve had zero quality time alone together. But there’s no point dwelling on something I can’t do anything about; we need to get the temporary beds put away and the dining table back in situ. I want everyone to at least have a seat to be able to enjoy their Boxing Day breakfast, before the shovelling begins.
I turn my head towards the patio doors; with the backdrop of an early morning sky getting lighter with every passing second, outside already bears no resemblance at all to that opaque, snow-laden greyness. It’s a huge relief to think that, fingers crossed, tonight most of our guests could be sleeping in their own beds again.
Even though the snow drifts extend almost three feet high against the glass doors, there’s a buzz of optimism that the worst of the bad weather is over. The reality of what lies ahead of us today is beginning to dawn on everyone, though. There’s a lot to do.
Valerie and Liam join us ten minutes later and, together with Fisher, insist on taking command of the kitchen in The Retreat. It warms my heart to see them laughing and chattering away together as they get organised. Whether Liam knows Valerie and Fisher have a growing friendship, or that his mum will soon be working for Fisher permanently, I can’t tell. Valerie keeps things very close to her chest by nature and, even though she’s opened up considerably, there’s still that cautious air about her. But maybe that’s a good thing for now, as, although Liam seems easy-going, they haven’t had much time alone together to talk since he arrived.
Kurt heads over to Tollie’s, to offer his help to Ethel and Rona, while Sarah sorts out the girls. No one is going anywhere until they have been fuelled up for what promises to be a tiring day ahead.
With two kitchens working flat out to cook a hearty breakfast for fifteen people, it’s all go. I wrap up warm, as I’m kept busy ferrying supplies between the two. At one point I lean so far into the big chest freezer in the outhouse, desperately hoping to get lucky and find some more part-baked bread rolls, that I almost fall inside. We always stock up for winter, but what feeds two for a couple of months doesn’t last long when you have a houseful. Thank goodness I had that over-the-top shopping spree when I was in panic mode, as without it I don’t know how we would have managed.
Everyone is in a jolly mood today, despite the task ahead, and every single person is helping in one way or another. Abe is busy sweeping the floors, while Jade and Jude are emptying the dishwasher – they are such thoughtful girls. Bernie and Yvonne do a grand job of packing away the bedding, then insist on laying the table.
By eight o’clock everything is looking a lot more organised, and I stand next to Bert for a few moments, surveying the garden. It does look amazing with a more encouraging backdrop. The bright blue of the wintry sky is a blessing, as the sun’s rays filter through a few fluffy white clouds that are so wispy they are no threat whatsoever.
‘I’m glad you’re in here, Bert. Who wants to be out there, when you can be inside in the warm?’
He might be made of cast iron, but there’s something in his expression that tells me he never was destined to rust away, battered by nature’s extreme elements. Bert is a symbol, a symbol given with love. He holds his head proudly erect, his powerful shoulders reflecting his strength, and his stance is firm. He’s setting an example and, no matter what else life throws at me from here on in, it’s time to start believing Gray and I will be strong enough to cope with it.
The sooner Gray flies off, the sooner he will be back here by my side. I have nothing whatsoever to fear.
A little later, we all head out with scarves wrapped around our necks, hats firmly pulled down over our ears, and hands protected by gloves. Walking is laborious and laboured. With most of our party wearing several layers of clothes and thick coats, it isn’t long before people are desperate to discard a few layers from all the exertion. Kurt and Sarah open up The Bullrush and it becomes operational HQ, although until the electrician arrives it’s more of a dumping ground for discarded clothing. It is like a fridge in there at the moment, but it’s not as damp as I thought it would be so at least that’s positive.
‘Are you doing okay?’ Gray grins at me as I pull my rather charming snowflake jumper up over my head. I was hoping to wash my hair this morning but didn’t like to take up too much time in the bathroom.
‘I’m good. Just a little hot.’ I sigh, thinking of the image I’d had in my head. The one where, if it snowed, Gray and I would be walking hand in hand, enjoying the beauty of the white landscape.
‘That little bit of a glow suits you,’ Gray comments playfully, his eyes sparkling. ‘I love you even when you are hot and bothered and a little bit grumpy.’
‘It’s not like my girl to be grumpy.’ Tollie walks up behind Gray, looking at me with a hint of concern on his wrinkled brow.
‘It was supposed to be a beautiful setting but all it’s done is cause chaos,’ I moan. What I’m really annoyed about is the fact that the clock is ticking until I wave Gray off and there’s a lot more snow on the ground than any of us could possibly have imagined. It’s going to wipe out most of today, and tonight all we’ll want to do is sleep, I suspect.
Last night I missed having some quiet time in bed, cuddling up with Gray and chatting before we drift off to sleep. Without a doubt, it’s the favourite part of my day. It was the right thing to do to give our room to Bernie and Yvonne, but I slept fitfully, mindful of not disturbing the others.
‘That’s a sad face, Immi.’ Gray tilts my chin with his finger to make me look up into his eyes. Pushing my sadness away, I give him the best smile I can muster. ‘I know we were expecting a cosy, happy and relaxed celebration. Instead it’s been hectic, and you haven’t even had time to stop and catch your breath. Whatever happens, next Christmas we’ll make sure everything is perfect. Even if you, me, Mum and Tollie end up heading off to a hotel for a few days so we can let someone else worry about the cooking. Anything to avoid putting you through another episode of turkey malarkey. What do you say to that, Tollie?’
Gray turns to look at Tollie, who turns to throw me a wink.
‘You deserve a bit of pamperin’, m’dear, and I think that’s an excellent idea. Now, we’d best get out there and make a start. I’m just about to co-ordinate the various workin’ parties.
‘There is a bit of good news, though. To my complete surprise, it wasn’t the manor’s estate manager who rang me in the early hours after speaking to Wes, it was master Anthony, no less. He’s going to send over a group of guys from the manor to lend a hand. Someone, maybe Fisher – or Wes himself – mentioned the fund-raising was going well. Anthony said he’d be delighted to make a donation and wanted to know where to send it.’
