Snow! The Series [Books 1-4]

by Clifford, Ryan

  At that moment, a seaman entered the bridge with a message from the ships’ doctor. Passengers were reporting symptoms of acute seasickness and the doctor was unable to cope with the demand for his services – could he please have some help?

  The captain wasn’t surprised and made three quick decisions. Firstly, he issued orders that all available staff be allocated to assist the doctor. Next, he ordered the closure of all bars and restaurants until further notice. Finally, he decided to let the passengers know that they were heading for Cardiff – at least their suffering would soon be over.

  Before he could even reach for the PA microphone, his First Officer burst onto the bridge.

  ‘Captain, apologies, but we have serious problem on the car deck. Two of the commercial vehicles have broken loose and are causing severe damage. I'm told that we can't do anything to prevent it. Many cars have already been crushed and caravans are toppling over. It's a real mess!’

  ‘Calm down, No 1, it's not quite a disaster yet! We’re now heading for Cardiff and I’m estimating a 6am arrival. We’ll have to hope that the sea calms a bit in the interim. I agree, there's nothing we can practically do about the car decks. Now, you’ll have your hands full with irate and seasick customers very soon. I suggest that you get your team briefed. Thank you,’ summarily dismissing his deputy.

  As the first officer departed, the captain commenced his address to the passengers.

  ‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain speaking. Due to the current weather conditions I have a short broadcast to make, which will start in one minute.’

  Since most passengers were still awake due to the raging seas, the captain had a full and attentive audience when he began his address sixty seconds later.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, as you are no doubt aware the weather conditions in the Irish Sea and the English Channel are severe, with gale force winds battering the ship and the coast. I have decided to return to port but as Rosslare is now closed, we are setting sail for Cardiff, where I trust a safe haven can be found. I estimate a 6am arrival if the weather does not worsen. I understand that many of you are suffering from ‘mal de mer’ and my medical staff are at your disposal. However, please be patient. There are over 700 passengers and crew on board, so we will get to you as soon as possible. Please remain in your cabins as it will be much safer – our medics will visit you in strict rotation. All bars and restaurants are now closed, so there is no reason to leave your cabins. Bottled water will be supplied free of charge to all passengers. If you are being seasick, please drink as much as possible to prevent dehydration. You may hear the occasional loud noise – do not be alarmed as this is only the sound of waves striking the ship. Please be assured that we are doing everything in our power to get the ship to shore as soon as possible. Thank you for your attention.’

  Paddy and Mary stared at each other, shaking their heads in fear and trepidation.

  ‘Looks like we’re in for a rough night, old girl. Best we wedge ourselves in and hope we make it safely. Do you still feel sick?’ Paddy enquired.

  ‘A bit, but I’m very dizzy. My vertigo is back with a vengeance. I’ll need to lay down and close my eyes.’

  Paddy helped Mary lie back on her bunk and sat on the edge holding her hand, whilst they waited for a visit from the doctor.

  The ship rolled violently and a loud crack vibrated through the ship causing a huge shudder.

  ‘Dear God,’ murmured Mary, ‘This is bad, Paddy. Do you think we’ll be alright?’

  Paddy was silent. He had nothing positive or reassuring to say.

  ***

  Outside the ship the sea was now raging Force Eleven with exceptional wave heights and wind speeds in excess of seventy miles per hour. Every thirty seconds the ship crested a wave, hovered in free space for a second and then crashed forward into the void to meet the next approaching wave, smashing through the water which cascaded across the bridge. Each time this happened, it seemed that the ship would not come up again, but of course, it did. These ships had been designed for the North Sea, some of the roughest waters in the world. If any ship could survive the storm – the ‘Oscar Wilde’ could.

  However, as the ship struggled towards the Welsh coast, casualty reports started to come in. Almost everyone was being sick – either through fear or because of the rough seas. Dozens of physical injuries were occurring as the ship rolled around. Bumped heads, fractures and bruises were commonplace – even amongst the crew – few of whom had experienced such a storm. The doctor and his team assisted by the First Officer were doing a sterling job in exceptionally difficult conditions, and by 2am they had visited every cabin and dealt with most passenger issues. The captain made PA announcements at half-hourly intervals, spreading calm and disseminating information, but all of this did little to quell the fears of everyone on board.

  The havoc on the car decks was a serious problem. Apparently, vehicles were sliding pell-mell causing huge amounts of damage, and the main concern was the possibility of structural damage to the ferry, causing a breach and the inevitable conclusion. Consequently, the captain decided that Cardiff was now too far and was making directly for Swansea. He didn’t care if it was closed – he'd try and make some sort of landing. It was only ninety minutes distant and he prayed that the ship would stay in one piece until he got his passengers safely ashore. He still wasn’t at all confident of this happening, but like the consummate professional he was, gave no outward sign.

  The ship approached Worms Head, but the sea state did not calm an iota. The ‘Oscar Wilde’ was being slowly battered to death, and most of her passengers had now grasped the probable inevitability of their fate. The seas were tremendous, and the snow fell in huge flakes completely covering the external surfaces of the ferry. It would be a minor miracle if this ship made port now. The captain recognised this fact and was prepared mentally for the worst – which followed very, very suddenly indeed.

  Milford Haven is a port that dispenses fuel to huge tankers that are habitually anchored offshore, awaiting instructions for loading or unloading. There were several such ships parked offshore that night, and the ‘Oscar Wilde’ was not exactly where she thought she was; (she was in fact rounding Linney Head off Pembroke, some thirty miles off course); so when the huge oil tanker appeared a ½ km off the ‘Oscar Wilde’s’ bow, a collision was inescapable. Whether it was the weather, an error of navigation, faulty equipment or a combination of all three, it really didn’t matter.

  The ‘Oscar Wilde’ rode its ultimate crest and crashed down at ninety degrees to the tanker, just forward of the bridge. The collision was horrendous - and terminal for both ships. The tanker snapped in half – it's back broken – and the ferry’s bows were rent asunder. It rolled over, taking on water through the huge gash in its side and mangled vehicles came tumbling out.

  It sank in less than ninety seconds, taking Paddy, Mary and 844 other souls with it, to a cold and watery grave.

  Day 2 - Warwick, West Midlands – 6:00pm

  Jane scarcely slept at all that night and got out of bed around 4.30am. She crept about the house so that she didn’t disturb Jake, as she did not want a re-run of yesterday’s arguments. Her bag was all but packed, and she added a pair of sensible shoes to change into once she reached the courthouse in Lincoln. A quick glimpse outside told her she needed to wrap up warmly, and she did so. A pair of thick woollen tights and a thermal vest went under her normal day clothing. Over this she wore an old pair of salopettes she’d used a couple of years back on a ski-ing holiday to Austria. A short casual jacket was worn under a very thick Michelin-Man puffer jacket. A pair of ski-gloves and a bobble hat over her red hair made up the ensemble. She decided against an umbrella as the wind was blowing up a treat and would probably turn it inside out within ten paces.

  Jane slipped out of the back door after a quick, warming cup of hot chocolate and a toasted croissant. There were about four or five inches of lying snow in the garden but some had drifted up against the g
arage – so she left the car where it was and decided to stick to her original plan and walk the four hundred metres to the station. The road was quiet and clearly she was the first person up that morning as unblemished snow lay all over the ground. She trudged off towards the station in the blowing snow thinking about the interview to come. However, she would have to get to Lincoln first, and she just prayed that the trains were running. It would be just bloody typical if the ‘wrong type of snow’ had fallen during the night and everything was cancelled! The approach road to the station was also quiet – but as it was only 5.30am, she really didn’t expect many people to be about. Just a few regular commuters, she guessed, catching the first trains into Birmingham.

  Jane walked into the station and joined the short queue at the ticket counter, after shaking off the dusting of snow on her clothing and hat.

  ‘Return to Lincoln, please,’ Jane asked the woman behind the glass partition.

  ‘You’ll be lucky’ she retorted sharply, obviously irritated at being in so early in such conditions.

  ‘Why’s that?’ said Jane with an air of trepidation.

  ‘Lots of trains have been cancelled due to the snow. You’ll be taking a big chance. The bigger stations like Birmingham are coping – but the conditions out in the countryside are pretty bad.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ replied Jane, ‘I’ve no choice, so I’ll have to take a gamble – give me the tickets anyway.’

  The woman behind the counter rolled her eyes to the ceiling and punched a few buttons, dispensing a set of tickets for Jane. She paid and quickly moved onto the platform to catch the 6.23, grabbing a newspaper en-route. The train was sitting, waiting, and seemed to be warm inside – if the streaming condensation on the windows was anything to go by. She pushed the door ‘open’ button, and climbed aboard, closed the door behind her and grabbed a seat facing forwards. It was warm in the carriage, and after a few minutes she was able to remove some of her clothing as she waited impatiently for 6.23. The carriage was actually about three quarters full – so she wasn’t the only idiot fighting the elements this morning!

  The trip into New Street was only fifteen minutes and her connection was at 6.59, so she should have plenty of time – even if the train was delayed by the weather. However, the snow wasn’t that bad and Jane reckoned she’d make it to Lincoln, with a bit of luck. There was a far better chance than trying it by road. That certainly would be chaotic. So she settled down and opened the newspaper. The snow had started too late to catch the early editions, so the front page was full of the normal day-to-day news. There was no indication or warning about the weather, except the standard forecast on page two that showed a series of low-pressure zones surrounding the UK, and snow predicted for the rest of the day. However, it was expected to move on soon, as Tuesdays’ weather had a big smiley sun against it!

  Smack on 0623 the train jolted forwards and set off towards Birmingham – on time – and Jane sighed with relief. At least she was on her way. If she could get this interview right, and persuade the Judge to repeat his assertions about the case in question, the story might be picked up by the nationals, and that just might get her noticed. After studying journalism and politics at Loughborough University – and getting a good 2:1 degree, she had completed her apprenticeship on the local town rag, and was now senior crime reporter on the regional paper in Warwick. The next step would be vital – should she stay in Warwick and work towards the editorship, and stay rural and safe for the rest of her career – or go for it and make the break for London. But that depended on getting noticed. She had a few minor contacts at the Daily papers in London, to whom she had supplied the odd lead in the past – but nothing concrete she could call in, and blag a job interview with. So this meeting would be vital to her career – and it might be explosive – as the Judge was intimating jury-rigging and collusion in high places. He had rung her editor, as his father and the Judge were old friends – so he thought he might be doing him a favour, and also get a fair and impartial hearing. Additionally, it didn’t hurt that the defendant now languishing in prison was actually from Warwick.

  All of this was an opportunity not to be missed – and what was the worst thing that could happen? She might be stuck in a bed and breakfast in Lincoln for a night. So what? She could post her story via the internet, and that would be job done!

  All of this was going through Jane’s head as the train jerked to a sudden halt.

  ‘Damn!’ she mouthed, ‘Now, what?’

  A few minutes passed and she glanced at her watch. Then the train public address sparked into life. She could barely hear the guard, so needed to lean across and ask the chap across the passageway what had been said.

  ‘No problem,’ he said cheerfully, ‘just waiting for a platform to come free in New St, and then we’ll get in. Only be a few minutes.’

  Jane smiled her thanks and started to get re-dressed. She still had plenty of time to catch her connection, but wanted to be first off the train.

  However, it was another five minutes before they moved off again, and they slid into Birmingham at 6.50. Nine minutes to catch her train to Nottingham, and she had no clue which platform it departed from. Jane muscled her way out of the carriage and took in the scene at New St.

  Seven minutes left.

  Jane raced and slid up the platform in her snow boots and peered at the main departures board. Platform 14b. She quickly looked round. Five minutes to go by the station clock. She was adjacent to platform three. She worked out that it was going to be tight, as she needed to cross several platforms. She bounded down into the underpass, dodging commuters as she went – shouting, ‘excuse me, excuse me – gangway!’

  She sprinted along the subway and up to her exit.

  Three minutes.

  She bounded up the stairs, and then she realised that the platform was in three stages – A, B and C. Hers train sat at 14b – fifty metres away.

  Two minutes.

  She skidded along the platform and reached the rearmost door, which luckily was still open. She sprang aboard and plonked herself down in one of the few remaining seats, as the door closed and the guards’ whistle blew. Twenty seconds later the train chugged out of Birmingham and into the snow.

  ‘Made it,’ she panted, and settled back in the seat trying to catch her breath. She must give up the cigarettes! Jane was sweltering under the heavy clothing, so after a couple of minutes she peeled off her puffer jacket and hat, and tried to cool down. It was only twenty minutes or so to Nottingham and her connection was at 0740, so hopefully this time there wouldn’t be an Olympic sprint, and she’d be able to catch her train after a leisurely stroll.

  Jane retrieved her phone and sent a quick text to Jake, apologising for yesterday’s unpleasantness, and letting him know she had departed Birmingham. That might make things easier tonight. It wasn’t a long term solution, though, as Jake was not happy with her career path. He saw prams and nappies in their future that Jane’s piercing hazel eyes certainly did not! The trip through to Nottingham was uneventful and they arrived more or less on time. She trailed out of the carriage, and hurriedly moved down the platform to the departures board and looked up at the schedule.

  Disaster!

  A long string of ‘Train Cancelled’ littered the board. She flicked her eyes down to find the 0740. Damn! Cancelled!

  Jane desperately searched up and down the board in a vain attempt to find an alternative. Nothing sprang out at her. Then the board flickered, and yet two more trains came up ‘Cancelled’.

  In her frustration she almost missed it. 0754 – there was a train to Skegness via Grantham – stopping at just about every village en-route. However, she reckoned that if she could get to say – Sleaford – it was on a main line, and she might get a connection to Lincoln, which was only 30 minutes north. It was her only alternative and she had to give it a go. The only other way was to give up and go home. That was certainly not on Jane’s agenda, so she re-checked the platform number and made her way to the
cafeteria, to grab a hot drink and a sandwich. It was crowded with commuters, grumbling and moaning about ‘British bloody Rail’ not realising that BR was long gone, and that regional companies ran the railways now. In fact, Railtrack was responsible for maintenance, and it should be their employees out there in the snow, keeping the tracks clear.

  ‘Let’s hope they are doing their job,’ she thought. However, Jane knew this area well, having lived around Sleaford as a child, and she was fully aware that the rural lines clogged up pretty quickly. She could only hope that this train got through against all the odds.

  Jane walked to the platform, and was not surprised to find the area around the train crowded with people trying to climb aboard. She joined the throng, fought her way to a door, and climbed up the step into the rear carriage. No seats available! She had to stand in the corridor, and as the train pulled out of the station, it was jam-packed. She slid down to the floor and made herself comfortable – since clearly no one was going to give up their seat for her – so much for chivalry. After about five minutes the train made the first of its interminable stops en-route to Skegness. The guard-come-ticket seller worked his way through the train answering questions, and Jane heard him say to a passenger that he reckoned that this was the last train out of Nottingham in this direction today. He was quite worried about the return journey as he lived in Nottingham, as did many of the people on the train. He said that this service only got away because it was preceded by a snow plough about ten minutes ahead, on its way to Peterborough and the main line.