by Lucy Coleman
‘Just drive carefully and don’t you take any risks, either.’ I lean down to accept his parting kiss, grabbing both sides of the ladder as I do so.
‘I mean it. Think health and safety.’ He tuts and waggles a finger at me as I go to lean a little further out, then change my mind and descend to reposition the ladder.
‘That’s my girl. Be safe.’
I’m glad that Gray has decided to go and fetch his mum a little earlier than planned, because the sudden change in the weather has caught everyone out. It’s not exactly a blizzard, but the flakes are falling thick and fast.
On his way out, Gray puts on a Christmas CD and I find myself humming away to some of my favourite oldies. Music does lift the spirits and at least it stops me thinking about his journey and how awful the roads are likely to be.
Once I’ve finished the two long runs overhead, I grab a hammer and a nail ready to put up the mistletoe. It is a huge ball, but the ceilings in here are high and anything smaller would have been lost. The problem is where to put it, I wonder as I scan around. People are going to walk in, and most are going to be drawn to gaze out at the view. I can’t reach the overhead beams, but I can reach the one above the patio doors. If I trim the back a bit so the ball sits flatter against the wall, hopefully it will hang there rather nicely.
When I’m finally able to put the ladders away, I’m very happy with how things are shaping up. Admittedly, the tree still needs trimming, but at least Gray managed to place one set of lights.
I can’t put it off any longer – it’s turkey time. Reluctantly approaching the sink unit in the utility room, knife in hand, I know this is going to call for drastic action but I’m not at all sure I’m up to the task.
Does a turkey have to be cooked whole? I wonder. I have no idea whether it affects the flavour, or how you adjust the cooking time if you do it in portions. I’m going to have to go online to check it out. People buy turkey crowns, though, so maybe Sarah was right and it’s all about the basting. She stuffed her big bird and I’ve bought more than enough stuffing to fill even this hefty thing.
Lifting the wrapped bird out with great difficulty, I dump it rather unceremoniously into the sink.
One small slit allows me to peel the bag open. The feel of turkey skin beneath my fingers makes me grimace. At this moment I could cheerfully become a vegetarian, but I know I’d never stick to it and, besides, I have my guests to consider. Feeling a little uncomfortable wielding such a large knife, I grit my teeth and begin cutting. Off comes one leg and, after a lot of hacking and a bit of juggling, off comes the other. This is horrible. I feel like a murderer. Each massive leg looks obscenely large and rather purple. Never having seen a raw bird of this size up close before, I sincerely hope that’s normal.
But already, my problem is looking a lot more manageable. Now I’m going to detach the breast from the carcass. With a bit of luck, it will all fit into the new roasting tin and if I cover it with foil, no one will be any the wiser. I will also be able to fit it into the fridge if I pull a few things out and ferry them across to the overspill fridge in the outhouse.
As I continue working away, I can’t stop myself from wincing. I’m done with the thought of turkey before it’s even touched the oven.
Luckily, just as I’m finally making room to slip the foil-covered tray into the fridge, Tollie appears.
‘I let myself in thinkin’ you’d be busy. How’s it going, m’dear?’
‘Good, thanks, Tollie. This lot will have to go into the other fridge, but the turkey is ready to pop into the oven early in the morning.’
‘Them garlands look the business. Do you need a hand with finishin’ off the tree? I could get the small stepladder out for you and pass up the baubles.’
‘Gray is still sorting the lights, so there’s nothing more to do until he gets back with Rona.’
We turn to stare at the eight-foot-high tree. It is a beautiful specimen and I love the smell of a blue spruce.
‘Grandma would approve. Nice proportions, but then, knowing you, I bet you drove Martin mad makin’ him stand them all up to check each and every one. You have an eye, Immi. Are you settin’ up the table today?’
My shoulders sag a little. ‘Yes, well, that’s the intention. The turkey took a little longer to prepare than I expected, but it’s all good. The next job is to whip up a cheesecake, then peel a lot of potatoes to part-boil them.’
‘Just like Grandma did. Shake ’em around in the colander while they’re hot and rough ’em up so they’ll soak up the goose fat. Who can resist a crispy roast potato?’
Some memories instantly raise a smile and it’s good to take a moment to reflect.
‘Do you want to see if you can get that second set of lights working while I check on the pork joint and prepare Gray’s must-have dessert?’
‘It would be my pleasure, Immi, if you think Gray won’t mind.’
‘I’m pretty sure he’d be very grateful. Just between us, I suspect it wasn’t so much the change in the weather conditions, as rising annoyance that he couldn’t suss out the problem, that sent him scurrying off.’
I get busy in the kitchen area as Tollie sets to work unravelling the mass of wire and bulbs. It takes a while, but eventually it all starts to come together, and I wash my hands with a sense of relief and satisfaction.
‘Two of the bulbs have blown. I’ll just replace them and we’re in business.’ Tollie looks pleased with himself.
As I begin unpacking the boxes of baubles wrapped in tissue paper, Tollie retrieves the small stepladder from the cupboard.
‘It hasn’t stopped snowin’ since just after eight this mornin’. It’s not heavy, but it’s definitely warmed up and that doesn’t bode well.’ Tollie chatters away as he snaps the steps into position and stands back.
‘We’ll work top down,’ I say, passing the first box to him. ‘The smaller ones at the top, then the medium size and the large ones at the bottom.’
It takes a while, as I have to keep moving the steps as we work around the tree in tiers. In between I keep glancing out of the window, wondering what on earth it’s like in the long snaking lane that leads down from the main road. What if Gray can’t get back to Aysbury? So many people will be travelling today and I daren’t turn on the TV, because it will just send me into panic mode.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve been up to the shop for your paper today, have you?’
‘Course, I walked up first thing. It was a bit slippery underfoot, but it wasn’t too bad.’
‘Were all the lights off in The Bullrush?’
‘No. I’m not sure what time Kurt intended on leavin’, but the car was still parked up. I took the shortcut over the bridge rather than trudge along the lane, otherwise I would have called in. They’ll be well on their way by now.’
‘So, the lane is still okay, you think?’
‘If it weren’t, I’m sure Gray would have let you know. Stop worryin’ about everyone and don’t overstretch. Tree’s lookin’ good, Immi.’
One glance outside confirms that in the last half an hour the flakes might not be any bigger, but the steady stream is now like a thick curtain. It’s beginning to obscure the view outside. What was a two-inch covering is now probably five inches deep and I find myself absent-mindedly chewing on my lip; I shouldn’t have let Gray go out in this. Rona wasn’t going to come to any harm, safe at home, and she’d rather arrive a day late than risk an accident. I glance down at Tollie as I take yet another bauble from him, and he gives me a stern look.
‘Let’s just keep ploughin’ on, m’dear, and they’ll be here before you know it.’
21
Oh, the Weather Outside Is Frightful
It’s well past lunchtime, but neither Tollie nor I have an appetite. It doesn’t help that visions of the turkey carve-up keep coming back to me. I check my phone yet again and just as I’m putting it down for what feels like the hundredth time, it kicks into life in my hands. I almost drop it with relief as I see it�
��s Gray.
‘Are you okay?’ I blurt out, desperate to know what’s happening. All I can see looking out now is an unbelievably thick wall of white bleakness.
‘There’s been a slight change of plan, but we’re fine. We’re going to have some extra company and I just wanted to alert you. I have to go. We’ll be there in about an hour… ish. See you soon.’
Click.
Tollie is watching me closely.
‘They’re on their way. But something’s wrong – I could tell by his voice and he cut me off quickly. He sounded like he was walking; he definitely wasn’t in the car, that’s for sure.’
We head over to the patio doors, peering out.
‘Is this what they call a white-out?’ I ask, thinking we don’t get snowstorms like this in the UK. Even the snow on the patio table is now at least eight inches deep. Fortunately, there’s no wind to whip it up into sculptured peaks, but everything is eerily quiet, wrapped in a thick white coat. It does look rather beautiful, but only if you aren’t out in it. That is, either driving, or on foot. Gray surely isn’t walking the last part with Rona – that would be sheer madness. Why did I think snow would make this Christmas more romantic? It’s just turning it into a total disaster. You can’t have a party without people. And if they can’t get here, I reflect miserably, there’ll be no Christmas dinner.
‘It’s unusual, but I’ve seen worse,’ Tollie replies. ‘You won’t remember the really bad years when you were small, and then living down south it’s generally milder towards the coastline. Gray wouldn’t have said they were okay if they aren’t, so there’s no point in second-guessin’ what’s going on. They’re going to be cold and hungry, no doubt, when they arrive – whoever Gray has managed to pick up along the way.’
‘Thank goodness that joint of pork is cooling. At least I can make up a batch of sandwiches. Tollie, can you do the honours and carve? I’d only hack it about. I’m not good with knives.’
He smiles at me, affectionately. ‘Leave it to me. I’ll carve the turkey for you tomorrow as well if you like.’
Even the mention of the turkey sends a little shudder through me. I’m too ashamed to tell him about my poor, dismembered bird, sitting in the fridge. Everyone is going to expect a fine specimen on a platter in the middle of the table, as they show in Christmas films. Our turkey is going to look as if it’s been run over by a lorry. Well, that’s assuming there’s anyone here to see it.
When the doorbell rings it takes me by surprise, as I can’t imagine why Gray hasn’t used his key. The moment I swing open the door I understand.
Four people are standing in a huddle, their faces obscured by hooded coats and scarves, as they dodge the now one-inch-sized snowflakes. The icy particles probably feel more like missiles than the soft, feathery little things we tend to imagine. Each of them is carrying a large plastic container, dusted with snow.
‘Come in, come in.’ I stand back, holding the door open wide as a shiver runs through me. Scrutinising the first person to step inside, I’m surprised to see it’s Valerie.
‘Hi, Immi. Sorry for the invasion, but there were no other options,’ she explains as she yanks her scarf away from her face. ‘We might not have been able to deliver these if we left it any longer. The walk is treacherous.’
She places a container on the stairs and sits down heavily as she begins to pull off her boots.
As I continue stepping backwards so everyone else can filter in, I’m almost through the doorway into the main room. The boxes are large and, together with four bodies, they fill the entire hallway.
‘Pop your coats on the hooks and I’ll take them into the utility room in a minute to hang them up to dry. I guessed it was bad, but… anyway, come on through.’
As they peel off their soggy outerwear, I let Tollie know we’re catering for two extra people.
Valerie and Gray are the first to appear behind me.
‘What a nightmare it is out there!’ Valerie exclaims.
Gray looks tired, but he’s making no attempt to take off his soggy padded jacket.
‘It wasn’t a good drive. Mum, come on through and stand by the radiator to warm up.’
Rona is standing in the doorway now partially obscuring my view of a young man I don’t recognise. She stops for a moment, looking up at the ceiling in awe.
‘Oh, how beautiful! And the tree – my goodness, this is a sight for the weary. I’m just relieved we made it in one piece, thanks to Gray’s skilful driving.’
When I glance at the young man, he tilts his head by way of introduction, and I give him a welcoming smile. Rona walks over to the radiator to warm her hands and I follow on behind her.
‘It’s not good out there, Immi, to say the least,’ Rona confirms, dancing her fingers against the heat. ‘The main roads aren’t too bad, but in a lot of places it’s down to a single track. Some have had it heavier even than here. Most of the side roads haven’t been touched and as for the lane, well, the snowploughs and gritters are struggling. It’ll be a while until they can even think of little communities like this one. There’s a milk tanker half in a ditch, the other half slewed across the lane, about a mile and a half down from the top road. We had to walk the rest of the way.’
Tollie and I are stunned. I can’t believe they’ve walked several miles in these conditions. Gray continues.
‘I’ll head back with Liam to collect the things we couldn’t carry on the first trip. We left Mum’s bags and a small pile of things at Valerie’s.’
Valerie casts me a nervous glance.
‘Sorry, I should have introduced you already. This is my son, Liam. Liam, this is Immi and her grandfather, Tollie,’ Valerie chimes in. ‘I knew you’d be wondering about the starters and I wanted to make sure we could get them here. I assumed, rather naively, that it would be easy enough to walk back, but it’s much worse out than I thought.’
Gray and Liam immediately turn to go and Tollie takes over, shepherding Valerie and Rona over to one of the sofas.
‘Here, ladies, make yourself comfortable. I have a pot of tea brewing and we’ll soon get you warmed up.’
They flop down, tired out and a little traumatised. It’s hard not to begin firing questions at them, but Tollie shoots me a warning glance. He nods, indicating that I should take a seat as he has everything in hand.
Valerie turns to face Rona and they exchange a look of total disbelief.
‘Have we been transported to Switzerland?’ Valerie asks as she peers across to take in the view beyond the patio. ‘I can’t remember the last time I saw this much snow. It’s caught everyone out, even the weather forecasters.’
‘The tea is ready, but I wonder if anyone is up for a glass of wine, too?’ Tollie enquires. Both Rona and Valerie raise their hands and I join them.
‘How bad is it out there? That must have been a nightmare of a walk. Was it deserted?’ I enquire gently.
Rona has virtually collapsed back into the cushions. ‘Yes, it was once we got past the tanker. It’s hard going walking even a short distance. Valerie could hardly believe her eyes when we knocked on her door, bedraggled and panting.’
Valerie takes over. ‘When Gray told me to pack up everything Liam and I needed, as there’s a chance we wouldn’t be able to venture out tomorrow, I thought he was joking at first. I mean, it’s what – two miles at most? It’s taken us an hour and…’ she glances at her wristwatch ‘… ten minutes to get here. I think Gray’s right. No one is going anywhere tomorrow if this continues.’
‘So, the lane is virtually impassable?’ I can hardly take this in. A snowfall like this can’t surely come as a total surprise to the people whose job it is to plan for emergencies when the weather turns bad. Don’t the county councils have hotlines to the Met Office?
‘At the moment it is. A Land Rover came up from Adler’s farm and hopefully made it back with the tanker driver, so he could warm up. He was in shock but had managed to contact a recovery firm – who probably won’t be able to get here,
of course. Well, until they can plough the top part of the lane, that is, as it’s just too dangerous to try right now. Aysbury is snowed in and no one is going anywhere in a hurry.’
Both Tollie and I sit listening to the story, sorry to hear what they’d been through.
‘There’s no point in venturing back out there until the worst of it is over. At least people will have stocked up with essentials for the holidays, which is a comfort of sorts, I suppose. Unless they were dining out, that is.’ I’m thinking of our other guests.
Tollie deposits a loaded tray on the coffee table between the sofas and we all reach for the wine glasses first.
‘Merry Christmas, everyone. According to the latest weather news on my phone it’s now officially the second largest snowfall the Cotswolds have ever had on Christmas Eve,’ Valerie informs us.
We raise our alcohol-filled glasses to toast a rather sobering statistic, as it begins to sink in that this is going to be a very cosy Christmas together, indeed.
‘You did well today,’ I whisper to Gray as we snuggle into each other after what turns out to have been an extremely eventful day.
‘I didn’t want to worry you unduly, but when we were brought to an abrupt halt by that tanker, to be frank with you, I didn’t know if we’d make it back here. Even up to that point, I’d warned Mum to brace herself, as if I’d lost control and we’d slid, the road is so narrow the chances of not ending up in one of the ditches is slim to none. And they are dangerously deep in places.
‘The tanker was at such an angle that the driver wasn’t able to get himself out without help. I had real visions of losing control, but you get to a point where you are so committed there’s nowhere to go other than forward. It wasn’t much better once we began walking, as if either of us had fallen and broken a bone—’ He stops abruptly, and I think a shiver runs through both of us at the thought. ‘But we made it. So, luck was on our side.’