She reached the large roundabout at the end of Station Approach and looked to her left at the railway bridge crossing the main road out of town. There was a pedestrian walkway under it and was crowded with people sheltering from the storm. Jane approached the bridge thinking that she could take shelter for a few minutes. As she drew closer, Jane realised that a group of people were gathered around someone lying on the floor. An old lady was stretched out with her head resting directly on the pavement. The people were watching but doing nothing to help. Most of them were too cold or distressed to be able to do anything but look after themselves – let alone nursemaid a little old lady.
Jane pushed her was through and lifted the old girl so that she was sitting rather than lying. She then moved her across to the side of the small tunnel, and pulled the old lady’s hood up over her head. Again, here was someone completely under-dressed for the conditions and was now paying the price. The woman was barely conscious and Jane looked up at the crowd to beg some help.
She was out of luck. The onlookers just turned away. Several walked into the snow whilst the rest just huddled in small groups. Nobody moved to help. Jane looked back at the frail old girl and asked;
‘What's your name, lovey – and what are you doing out in this?’
The old lady looked up at Jane with a feeble smile.
‘Brenda,’ she answered.
Brenda Carter lived on her own about a mile outside of Grantham town centre. She had done so all of her life and now, at seventy-seven, was finding it more and more difficult to travel to and from the local amenities.
She had woken this morning, looked out at the snow, and cursed her luck. She had a hairdressing appointment in town that she couldn’t possibly miss. She was forced to book her ‘girl’ six weeks in advance as it was, and it was vital that she got her Christmas perm!
Consequently, she’d dressed and set off in good time for the 12.30pm appointment. There was no bus because of the weather, so she was compelled to walk. Brenda wasn’t dressed adequately for the conditions and was suffering quite badly from the cold wind. Her raincoat was covered in snow and after just half a mile she’d collapsed at the railway bridge – which is where Jane Kelly was now administering to her needs. Jane looked down at Brenda and realised that she was in dire need of shelter and warmth. She looked up again and shouted above the wind,
‘Come on, somebody please help me get her onto her feet’.
This request met with icy silence.
‘For God’s sake – stop being so bloody selfish.’
‘Every man for himself, darling’, whimpered a youthful wretch in a yellow tracksuit. ‘We’ve got our own problems without having to look after her as well. Anyway, she’s gonna freeze to death soon. Leave her and get away yourself.’
Jane was astonished, stood up to confront the man, and would have done so if not for a strong pair of arms that thrust the lout out of the tunnel and into the storm.
‘Can I help?’ asked Andrew Brady coolly. He turned and faced the man he’d just ejected and fixed him with a cold stare.
‘Just try it, sonny, and make my day.’ The selfish lout thought better of confronting the stranger and declined, turned, and stumbled back into the blizzard, swearing vehemently at Brady as he went.
Brady had taken the realisation of his discovery that his family were dead very badly. He had staggered blindly off down the hill towards his home, oblivious of the weather or anyone or anything around him.
The first thing he’d really seen was this young woman standing, shouting at a thug in a bright yellow tracksuit and for a second he thought the man was going to attack the woman. He had instantly snapped out of his automaton state and taken immediate action. He was itching for the thug to ‘have a go’ as he was desperate to hit out at anything or anyone.
He now looked down at the two women and realised that the elderly lady had to be moved. He leant down and helped her to her feet and between them, Jane and Brady half carried / half-dragged Brenda Carter towards the town.
‘There’s a pub just over there. It should be open by now – if not we can knock until they answer,’ he shouted over the wind.
The trio struggled through the storm, and within five minutes they had reached the pub, which mercifully was open and burst in surrounded by a cloud of snow.
‘Shut the bloody door,’ someone shouted.
‘Shut it yourself,’ Brady snapped, ‘and give me a hand with the old girl!’
Immediately, three of the people in the pub sprang forward, grabbed hold of Brenda, and moved her over to chair by the fire that was roaring, fuelled with giant logs.
Jane and Brady shook themselves down and from behind the bar the landlord spoke for the first time,
‘A trio of hot toddies, perhaps – on the house!’
Day 2 – Newark, Nottinghamshire – 11:00am
Mike Norman, in his ASDA lorry, was crawling at a steady five miles per hour down the A1 and was approaching another turn-off, just south of Newark. Traffic was still moving – miraculously – and he still reckoned he could get to Grantham to meet his scheduled time slot and get away back to Cumbria before the weather got too bad. He always was overly optimistic!
There were cars abandoned at regular intervals down the dual carriageway, but the traffic was flowing – just! There wasn’t much he could do really. He was less than fifteen miles from his drop-off, so it wasn’t worth turning around yet – although conditions were not improving. He couldn’t understand why they hadn’t stopped altogether. His CB was telling him that the Grantham bypass from the A52 was jammed, so if he could turn off at Gonerby, he might just make it into town. However, he had no idea what conditions were like in the centre. They were probably much the same as out here.
The big truck just kept lumbering along, and quite frankly, five to ten miles per hour was just about as fast as he dare go in these conditions. As he approached the exit for Long Bennington – about seven miles from his drop-off – the traffic suddenly thinned and he revved up a bit of speed. This gave him a tad more confidence that he would make it in time. However, by the time he had skirted the village the lorry in front once again slowed to a crawl. He applied his brakes and for the first time in a while came to a standstill.
He heaved a resigned sigh and reached for his mobile and thought to give his wife an update on the situation. He dialled the number but before he could finish, he jumped with surprise as a loud knock came on the passenger window.
He turned to see the top of a small head trying to look into the cab. Mike scrambled over the front seat and dropped the window.
‘Let me in, mister, I’m freezing out here!’
It was a young boy and although he was well wrapped up, he looked to be in a bad way. Mike shouted for him to step back and then opened the door, leaned down and hauled the lad inside. He then slammed the door shut again. He got back into his seat and checked the traffic. It remained at a standstill.
He turned to the lad, who just sat, motionless – except for the chattering of his teeth.
Mike turned up the heating to full and directed as much warm airflow over the boy as possible. The traffic remained at a full stop so Mike leaned across and tried to bring the boy round. Firstly, he removed his hat and scarf which were caked with snow. Mike reached down to his flask, poured out a cup of hot chocolate, and fed the lad a mouthful. He then removed the boy’s gloves and got him to hold the cup himself. That should warm his hands up a bit. The lad was exhausted.
After a few minutes and a few gulps of the hot liquid, the boy started to come back to life. At the same time, the traffic started moving again and Mike had to turn his attention to driving.
‘Thanks, mister,’ offered the boy quietly. ‘I was trying to walk to my Grandma’s house in Grantham, but I got a bit lost and the next thing I knew I was on the A1 and you nearly ran me down.’
‘You are extremely lucky, lad, even coming out in this weather is a pretty stupid thing to do, let alone wandering along t
he motorway! Why are you out anyway?’
The boy took another gulp of the hot drink, turned to the driver, and started to explain.
‘I was out playing with my friend in the snow and when it was time to go home for something to eat, we were pretty cold. Anyway, I got home and waited for my mum to come home for lunch. But she phoned and said that she was stuck in her car on the way to work and that she couldn’t get home. She told me to catch the bus to Grantham and go to my Grandma’s house where she could meet me. She said she would probably have to walk there herself as the car had broken down. Then the phone went dead. The battery must have failed.’
He took another gulp of chocolate and asked if there was any more. Mike just pointed at the flask. The boy topped up his drink and continued his tale.
‘Anyway, I got dressed again and went out to catch the bus. Someone I met in the village said not to bother when they saw me waiting at the bus stop. So I decided to walk. I know it's six or seven miles, but I reckoned I could do it in a couple of hours. I’ve walked that far before.’
Mike looked across at the boy and shook his head in disbelief.
‘You must be mad, son. Only an Eskimo could survive in this and that’s debatable! I’m Mike, what’s your name?’
The boy finished his drink and replied.
‘Chris; Chris Davies.’
‘Pleased to meet you Chris and it's your lucky day. I’m driving into Grantham so I’ll drop you at your gran’s. Are you hungry? I’ve got some sarnies here – go on - help yourself.’
Chris tucked in and shared what was left of Mike’s lunch as the truck continued on its way. The snow kept falling and Chris could only hope that his mum had been strong enough to reach Grandma’s. He peered out of the cab at the worsening conditions and was grateful not to have to walk into town.
He thanked Mike but the reply was not encouraging.
‘Don’t thank me too quickly, young-un’, we have still got about four miles to go – but if we can reach the Gonerby turnoff – about four hundred metres ahead – we should make it.’
As he spoke, the traffic slowed to a stop. Mike looked ahead and cursed silently. This was the end of the line. The queue stretched way out ahead around the bend and into the far distance. They were trapped. There was traffic on the outside lane and in front of him a line of vehicles similar to his own blocked the road. He kept his engine running to maintain the heating system but he knew that they were going nowhere. He would have to contact his wife and let her know that she might not see him tonight. After he finished his call, he turned to Chris who had been very quiet and was craning his neck straining to see ahead in between windscreen wiper sweeps.
Mike contemplated his options. He had enough fuel to run the engine for days, a warm cab and a bed. He had water and some food, so no immediate problem. However, he now had the lad to consider.
‘What's your gran’s phone number, lad?’
‘Why?’ replied Chris.
‘Thought I might let her know you are alright and she can tell your Mum when she gets there – if she isn’t there already.’
‘OK’ replied Chris and told Mike the number. He dialled and an elderly voice answered.
Mike explained the situation and the elderly lady took it well but was more concerned about her daughter who hadn’t arrived home yet. Mike hung up after explaining that he would bring Chris home safely but that there might be a delay and not to worry as he could stay in the cab until the snow subsided. She wasn’t entirely happy, but since she was more or less trapped in her own home, there was little she could do.
Chris had heard most of this, and was alarmed and concerned for his mother.
‘What can have happened to Mum?’ he bleated.
Mike wasn’t confident about her chances, but wasn’t going to worry the boy unnecessarily.
‘I don’t know, lad, she is probably fine and just holding up somewhere till the snow drops off a bit. Don't worry too much. I’ll get you home, but how I’ll do that is another issue.’
‘Why, what's the problem? Can't we just keep on driving?’
Mike looked at the boy with a resigned expression.
‘It's a bit tricky lad. The road’s blocked and we are a forty-foot lorry trapped in the snow. The longer we stay here the worse it will get. Unless we sprout wings we’ll probably have to walk if we want to get into Grantham.’
Chris looked puzzled.
‘I don't get it. Why can't we just drive there – down that road – there?’
Now it was Mike’s turn to be puzzled.
‘What road, lad, it's blocked.’
‘No, not that road’ said Chris, with exasperation in his voice, ‘THAT ROAD!’
He pointed down the side of the cab at a small service road that connected the turnoff to a small farm entrance.
Mike slid across the seat until he could see what Chris was pointing at.
‘Brilliant idea lad, but no good. We are far too big and bulky to fit along there. We’d skid into the ditch. Sorry lad, we’re stuck.’
Chris bowed his head in disappointment but then had a stroke of genius.
‘Why not just leave the lorry behind and take the cab?’
Mike was dumbstruck. Why hadn’t he thought of that? However, it was a huge decision to make. Firstly, it wasn’t his load to casually dump on the A1.
Secondly, this weather was bound to improve and the shit would really hit the fan if he just left the load abandoned in Lincolnshire blocking the main north-south trunk road.
Thirdly, why should he panic? He could sit tight and all would be well by tomorrow – wouldn't it?
He turned on the radio and every station was full of reports regarding the weather. It was patently clear that the snow was enveloping the whole country. There didn’t seem to be a town or county unaffected, and the prognosis was bad. More snow to come. The government was warning people to stay indoors and for those out of doors to go home or just get under shelter – quickly.
Mike didn’t know what to do for the best. If it had only been him, he would have sat it out, got together with other lorry drivers, had a game of cards and waited for the thaw. But all of a sudden he was a babysitter and his conscience dictated that he should really try to help this boy get back to his mother – if indeed she was still alive.
They sat for another hour listening to the radio. Without exception, it was very bad news and all at once Mike made up his mind. He told Chris to sit still whilst he donned his cold weather gear and a pair of strong gloves. He would detach the load.
Twenty minutes later, he was back in the cab covered in snow. It really was like the Arctic out there! The traffic was at a standstill as far as he could see on both carriageways, which confirmed his courageous decision.
It was time for action.
Day 2 – Grantham, Lincolnshire – 12:30pm
Brady downed his whiskey in one large gulp. Jane observed him as she sipped her own hot toddy and sat down in the pub. The old lady was being attended to by the landlord and his three customers. She didn’t look good and they were gently patting her face and rubbing her hands in an attempt to revive her, whilst trying to force some whiskey down her throat. Brady looked on dispassionately, the memory of his dead family fresh in his mind. He was distraught and really didn’t know what to do next. The weather was still appalling and the thought of going back to work was quickly dismissed as impossible. What was the point?
‘Hi, I’m Jane Kelly,’ came a voice from the corner.
Brady wondered who was talking to him and glanced over at the young woman covered in snow dripping onto the pub floor. She smiled and tried again.
‘Yes, it's you I’m talking to. Are you all right? Come and sit down for a minute.’
Brady almost told her to mind her own business but then realised that she wasn’t to blame for his family’s fate – in fact, she had saved the old lady – so was worth giving a break.
‘Sorry, I’m Andrew Brady – I live in Grantham.’
‘Lucky for you’, Jane retorted sharply, ‘I’m from Warwick and I’m stranded here until this bloody snow stops and I can get back to my paper.’
‘You shouldn’t really be out in this at all. Where are you staying? Maybe I can help you get there.’
Jane sighed. ‘The Angel and Royal, apparently, if my boss has kept his promise and reserved me a room. I suspect he hasn’t, but I’m on my way to check it out anyway. Thanks, I could do with a hand. This snow is starting to get frightening. Someone’s going to get killed soon.’
Snow! The Series [Books 1-4] Page 10